Darn, guess I need to do pre-race and race together.
Team Postgraduate Psychosis Chapter 0.3
The day has come. Julia, who has gotten familiar with the Callahan in the past several days and was mostly trusted not to crash it en route, pulls up to the venue in the now-single-seater clunker. Ulf and Gunther roll up in the former’s Mercedes. With them are their pit assistants: Anders, Ulf’s uncle, Victor, one of Gunther’s drinking buddies, and a box of tools and spares minor. The group stops in the parking lot outside, where the Mercedes is unceremoniously ditched.
Julia: We’re here. I’ve been to this track once or twice, so I know how to get to the pits; honestly, you should all just jog behind me or something.
Victor: And be deaf by the time we get here? Christ. Was hacking off most of the exhaust parts really necessary, Gunny? That trumpet symphony’s all we’re going to be listening for the next twenty-four!
Anders: If it lives that long. I heard what Gunther and Julia did to that engine, and where they got it from; I’m not convinced it’ll hold.
Julia: I’m right here, you know. Either way, we should set up in our pit as soon as we can… Who’s on snack duty?
Ulf: I got you covered. Holds up a massive camping backpack full of energy drinks and two-hour-cold barbecue
Victor: Jeez, I can’t get a read on that guy. Gunny, surely you’re aware that your friend has some screws loose?
Gunther: I don’t know what you’re talking about. And don’t call me Shirley.
The team heads into the pits to set up.
The drinking duo, not eager to work their asses off quite yet, take a leisurely stroll to size up the competition.
Anders: I’m still not sure what the two of you see in that ‘Gunther’ type. Seems like a prick to me.
Ulf: As far as I am aware, he does that on purpose. It is a sort of defense mechanism: If you are the type of person to dismiss him, then he does not have to deal with you. Personally, I find that he makes up for his antics by being good at what he does.
Julia: He especially doesn’t like people who talk behind his back - and I, for one, am with him. So if you want to win this thing, try to forget you ever had that thought.
Anders: tch. I’ll consider myself outvoted then. Either way, we’ve got the provided toolkit, our own set of stuff, and I’ve put the impacts where you can see them.
Gunther and Victor return, looking contemplative but not disheartened
Julia: So, what’s the scoop?
Gunther: Well, there’s roughly three categories in this race. There’s a couple small shitboxes, which was to be expected. They’ll be nimble and I don’t know if we can catch them easily, but I’d wager we can intimidate them when in close proximity.
Victor: Then there’s the medium cars. They’re not too far off from ours, but they’re all a lot older. Honestly, I’m not sure how our Carver got ruined quickly enough to be a ‘clunker’ at its age.
Johan from Prognosis Negative: Hey, we’ve got some motorsports history here, we’ll blow your hood right up!
Gunther: Oh yeah, why don’t you just blow me instead! /ahem/ And those guys fit the bill as well. They’re in our weight class, so we’ll have to beat’em up clean.
More importantly, this race is packed full of old cars. Stay the hell away from them. Some of them are framed, so they’re about as movable as a concrete pillar with rebar. They’ll be slower and thisrtier, but if you get into a slugfest you will lose.
Chapter 1.1: The first sixth
It’s high noon. The sun might not be withering, but the prospect of running a race for 24 hours is. A cooler full of Ulf’s energy drinks is all that lies between Team PP and total wastage.
Anders: Well, you got me. That Gunther takes a mean corner. Not to seem like the old geezer in this conversation… (Victor: Well, you are!) …But he seems to be managing a lot of near misses. Not really sure if it’s gonna keep working like that forever.
Sure enough, at some point in the second hour, a three-car conflagration involving a /certain/ group of mad Brits makes the Callahan’s hood go right up and refuse to close.
Gunther: Shit!! Well, it’s not like I could see past that scoop anyways!
Gunther unstraps himself and finishes the lap, driving into the pits practically leaning out the window - and falls out of the car when the door is opened.
Ulf: Are you hurt?
Gunther: Fine. Sledgehammer. Now!!
Gunther grabs the sledgehammer from Victor and, after lining up, smashes the hood with resolve and a rebel yell. He overdoes it, of course, and is reduced to judicious tapping and slamming. Julia gets ready for a stint; Anders refills the tank.
Gunther: Well, that about does it! Start her back up.
The Carver starts up from half-crank, still rearing to go.
Gunther: Now remember, you have to stay vigilant! I can’t put a ring on a corpse. Seriously though, good luck.
As Julia powers out of the pits, the team looks on.
Ulf: You know, I am astonished that the scoop is still on. I would have thought it would have been the first to go.
Anders: Heh, I guess that even in our country, the term “redneck engineering” had to apply to somebody. You’re a strange man, Gunther.
Gunther: Hmph. Yes, I am. Now give me that headset, I gotta keep an ear out for my girl.
Ulf: I told you, Uncle Andi. He sees you as overbearing. I suggest you withdraw.
Julia started her stint in the opening minutes of Hour 3. Now, in the waning ones of Hour 4, she meets the exact thing they had resolved to avoid: the rear end of a huge, bubblegum-pink Mons sedan. The Callahan has a split bumper that’s scraping on a tire, and Julia drives it into the pits.
Gunther: Jesus, that just about gave me a heart attack. Are you alright?
Julia: Don’t worry, just a little bump. Did you see what I did to that Mons thing? It stalled and is still trying to start back up!
Gunther: No, for real, you okay? Does anything hurt?
Julia: Calm down, Gunny, I’m fine. In fact, I’m staying in. Now patch this thing up and get me out there!
Gunther: A-alright.
The Carver is refueled and taped up; Victor checks out the left rear tire, the one affected by the scraping, and says that it doesn’t look any worse than it did in the morning. Julia eventually departs to raise some more hell.
Gunther: Well, shit. We’re dozens of minutes behind that runt of a Seongu. This race hasn’t been kind to us.
The team’s frat king munches somewhat dejectedly on a cold pork rib; the amount of rear-ending they’d inadvertently dished out was frustrating his hopes for a good early lead.
Anders: Well, we can look at it a different way. For all the bullshit that’s happened so far - and I do agree it’s bullshit - we’re still in the first half, and liable to gain. Your rust bucket is a remarkably solid one.
Victor: Yo dude, look! Julia’s right on the tail of that tryhard with the Regal! And from what I can see, the head punk’s actually driving it!
a smirk creeps onto Gunther’s face once again. He grabs the headset and puts it on.
Gunther: Hey, sugar…
Julia - on radio: What is it, Gunny-bunny?
Gunther: Tch. That guy in front of you… He’s got an attitude problem. Kick his ass for me, will ya?
Julia: Oh, bring it on!!
To be continued
