I’m assuming it refers to the sum of the techpool and lab cost if I am not mistaken.
It will be changed anyway, I have realized that restricting it too much is kind of unnecessary
1 Like
Polka Dots
Abigail Greere
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Esther Weissman
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Claire DuPonte
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Kaisa Olsson
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Car: 1972 Uyemura Prefecta R
Number: 25
Summary
Kaisa Olsson was never too fond of Swedish cars. She liked big motors, rowdy engines, and wasn’t worried about safety. In her mind, she had always dreamed of her first car as a classic American muscle car- a McNamara with a big V8, a peppy little Sinclair, or even one of the retro cars from the 2000s.
Cars like the ones made by Ascot, or something like the Allen Vista 3 felt more attainable to her; not as sporty, but still American at heart. Her interests were not unique; during a visit to France, where her father managed a branch of an international bank every summer, she met her first enthusiast friend.
Claire DuPont was another inheritor of wealth, but in a different fashion. Her father had been an aspiring rally driver in his teens, but was crippled in a brutal accident in the early 00s. Without the use of his legs, he combined his love for the automobile with his father’s position at Renault to become an engineer. When Claire was old enough, he got her into karting, and from there it was all decided.
That eventually led to Claire driving at some local rally events in rural France, one of which Kaisa attended. The driver of a beat up old hatch as opposed to the other pricey vehicles, Kaisa had worked up the nerve to speak to her more easily.
The Tarquini rocketed over the dirt. Kaisa’s head jarred as she called out the next turn into the intercom, hands shaking so much with the movement of the vehicle that she could barely read it. Claire barely acknowledged her, but that was nothing new; over the last two summers, Kaisa had found the French woman to be utterly focused while driving. The car slewed, front wheels churning dirt and kicking rocks into the aftermarket skid plate, and they raced towards the next checkpoint.
“American cars? I thought you liked your Celestia,” Claire said, her dark hair spilling over the back of a white chair. It was almost too hot, there on the balcony, even if the day had ended. Kaisa could feel her own skin threatening to sweat. It wasn’t even 20 degrees, she scolded herself.
“I do,” she said defensively. “But, well, I always liked how over the top they are.”
“That’s no surprise,” Claire said, eyes twinkling. Kaisa wasn’t ever able to read the meaning there, and this was no exception, so she just smiled. “Well, you got into my rally car. Do you like the Benetsch cars?”
“Yeah, but I can’t afford them. My dad won’t let me spend that much on ‘American junk,’ as he calls it.” That drew a laugh from Claire, a sound Kaisa found herself frequently trying to draw out. “But I have been working at the bank, and I spotted a cool little car with some potential.”
“May I see it?” Claire reached out a hand, leaning from her chair, touching Kaisa’s own. The contact surprised her a little, and she lifted the phone up and away, flushing a pink that she knew made her mousey brown hair look even paler.
“Yeah,” she said, trying to understand the flash of a frown and the vague look of disappointment on her friend’s face. Then she pulled up the listing. “I’m going to look at it over the winter, but these photos look nice.”
“An old Prefecta,” Claire mused. “Not so bad, for an American car. Just check it over with an expert.”
“I will, I will, but…”
And they talked the rest of the night about possibilities, hopes, dreams, and how they would spend the rest of the summer. Kaisa did most of the talking, and as she left the little house Claire called home, she wondered why she’d pulled back her hand.
“What a heap of junk,” the short-haired mechanic laughed. Abigail Greere was looking at the underside of one of the most tragic financial mistakes she had ever seen. The poor little Swede was in the other room, waiting for Abigail’s diagnosis of a noise while driving.
It was so, so much worse than anyone had hoped. Somehow, rust on the body itself had been avoided, so the battered old Prefecta wasn’t strictly dangerous to drive. Abigail had to cut it some slack; for an American company, Uyemura had always been a little odd, drawing from Japanese designs. Especially in the fifties, and somewhat in the 60s, where this Prefecta had its roots.
But damn.
Rear wheel bearings, dead. Rear subframe bushings could be moved with a finger. Drums locked up. Front calipers nearly frozen. Not a single control arm without play. Struts, towers, shocks, springs… it was like the damned thing had never seen a jack, let alone a lift. Oh, the body work was okay, but even the poor engine and transmission were a little rough.
Tucking her clipboard under an arm, Abigail sighed. It was too familiar a story; a sleazy guy imports a piece of shit, duct tapes it into running and driving, pays off an inspector, and flips it to a naive young enthusiast. Her husband had promised that she’d be able to run her garage in Sweden, and he’d been right about that. Abigail was just glad she’d kept her last name; all the bad news was associated with Greere, and not the Persson, the one that actually paid the bills instead of just barely staying in the black.
“Miss Olsson,” Abigail said, pushing open the glass door. “I have some bad news.”
“What is it?” She had answered the phone in German, expecting one of her employees.
“English,” Abigail drawled from the other end of the line. “You still speak it?”
“Abigail,” Esther sighed. “Why do you bother me during the workday?”
“Well who else can I come to in times of need?” The response was disturbingly sweet. Esther Weissman new that no, Abigail did not believe she was the go-to. Her painted nails rapped on the dark surface of her counter, immaculately organized parts lining the wall.
“You already called Piotr, Gary, and Gene, yes?”
“Busted. That obvious?”
Esther leaned over the counter, handset to her ear. She pushed her curly dark hair out of her eyes and booted up her computer.
“Even you call my cell phone if you just want to talk. What is it?”
“I have an old Prefecta here. Total junk, but we’re gonna get it running anyways.”
“What? Abigail, you need to make-”
“I know, I know, this is why I’m never gonna be rich, so on, so forth. C’mon, Esther, I’ll even let you have some beer.”
“You refrigerate it.”
Somehow, Abigail persuaded her to come up to Sweden. An ‘opportunity’ was never ever a good thing when the American ex-military ex-patriate used the word. But with some used, refurbished, and generally dubious parts in the back, Esther started up her Van Zandt and got on the road to Sweden.
“It’s okay,” Claire said soothingly. She had her arms around Kaisa, who was blubbering about her car’s state of repair. Claire wasn’t really sure it would be okay, and her little Swede renewed her wailing at the empty assurance. Biting a lip, Claire waited until she calmed down.
“The- Mrs. Greere- Abigail,” Kaisa spluttered.
“Breathe. She is the mechanic?” Kaisa nodded, sucking in a breath shakily, wiping at her eyes with one hand. She blinked, stepping out of the hug and turning pink. Claire didn’t let it offend her.
“Yes,” Kaisa said. “Yeah. She said- it’s junk. It might as well be a shell, and it was in an accident, and… it isn’t even worth a thousand.”
Claire winced. “That sounds… frustrating. You must be disappointed.”
“Yeah,” Kaisa nodded. “She wanted to get it okay to drive until its next inspection.”
“How much?” Claire folded her arms, skeptical and wary that a mechanic might be preying on the naivete of her darling Kaisa.
“Nothing. Just said I ought to take it here, and put her logo on the window, after the inspection runs out,” Kaisa rambled, fingers shaking as she sifted through a cluttered bag. Eventually she drew out a magazine, and Claire suddenly understood. The mechanic had managed to do Kaisa a favor, and secure herself a little free advertising. Win-win.
“It will be fun,” Claire said. “And hey, the Prefecta drives, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Kaisa said, sheepishly. “I guess I just wanted it to be perfect.”
“We can make this summer perfect, and then when the race begins, I will come with you to drive,” Claire decided. Kaisa seemed like she was about to protest, but she broke out into a goofy grin instead.
“That sounds nice.”
6 Likes
Timeloss
Presenting themselves as a collective, Timeloss are a unique group of individuals whom all have “Fallen out of time” so to speak. Each one is their own person with their own style and personality. They’ve been friends for about a year, coming together on a shared sense of “we’re not supposed to be here.” They’re working hard to go home, but might as well have some fun in the mean time.
Shall we meet the team then?
Ruuka Takoyama (She/Her)
Ruuka is the “Leader” of Timeloss, being the first of the group to arrive on Earth nearly 2 years ago. She’s the one that bought the car Timeloss will be using, and the one who understands what’s going on the most. She’s a mech and starfighter pilot from 500 years in the future, who has a personal AI who really wants to help, sometimes too much.
Ruuka is Timeloss’ Driver #1.
Mirage (She/Her)
Mirage was the first person Ruuka found in her travels, around 18 months ago. She has become the effective 2ic of Timeloss. Mirage is a Wizard from Golarion, who knows a lot about magic, but also nerdy enough she picked up how a lot of mechanical stuff works on Earth. She knows how to make a fix a lot, but doesn’t know how to drive.
Mirage is Lead on Repairs, whilst double-dutying as the Spotter.
Selena Winsborough (She/Her)
Selena isn’t actually from out of time, no she’s just a Vampire from a long time ago. She’s been through a bunch of different identities (maybe that’s why she looks familiar?) but kept this one up once she started working for [Redacted.] She started as a Work Colleague of Ruuka’s, before they became very close friends.
Selena is Timeloss’ Driver #2.
Grayse Ohvenwul (She/Her)
Grayse was the 2nd person to be collected by Ruuka as part of her Timeloss project back in June. She’s friendly, cute, and dumb as bricks. She talks a lot about things she shouldn’t, and has picked up more than a few friends and other companions.
Grayse is Timeloss’ Driver #3.
Victoria Sanmurin (She/Her)
Victoria was pick up number 3 for Ruuka. She’s confident, strong, and magical. A Solarian fighter from a distant, strange, spacefaring future, this Elf is a very calm, collected, and trusting person who really is a lot stronger than she looks. (Seriously, she can lift like 700lb without much stress, it’s crazy. - M)
Victoria is Timeloss’ Driver #4 and 2nd Mechanic
This is not a direct representation of Zoya, the software I use cannot handle furries.
Zoya Artemenko (They/Them)
Zoya is the most recent addition to Timeloss, though they’re the most modern. They come from an Alternative Earth where animal people are the norm. Zoya is a Bipedal Wolf, born in Siberia, but raised in Finland. They have had a hell of a time since coming over, figuring out they’re not alone.
Zoya is Timeloss’ Driver #5 and Mechanic #3
Aurora (She/Her) & Eos (She/Her)
Aurora and Eos are the NHP (basically an AI - M) maintained by Ruuka to be her assistant in combat (formerly - R) who compute faster than a human, and are capable of handling multiple projects at a time. An unfortunate error in operation meant Aurora spawned an additional, though unique, personality in Eos. The pair are able to work together in the same way siblings would.
Aurora and Eos are Timeloss’ additional spotter and “race engineer.”
4 Likes
Due to being rather busy today, I will give one more day for rules delib, since there will indeed be changes and there’s no chance I will be able to complete them in time.
4 Likes
Team Highway Hooligans
Another mild collaboration with @Elizipeazie for this one.
What happens when 3 friends miss out on Shitbox Rally 2023 and decide the car still needs to be properly thrashed? They recruit a fourth guy from Sweden, figure out how to set up his seat, and ship the car over to get beaten on for 24 hours.
The Team:
Jake Storm
- Height: 5’7" (170 cm)
- Age: 36
- Roles: Driver #1, Mechanic
Cody Acorne
- Height: 5’9" (175 cm)
- Age: 40
- Roles: Driver #3, Pit Stop Assistant
Trevor Wright
- Height: 6’0" (183 cm)
- Age: 51
- Roles: Driver #4, Mechanic
Valentin Schrant
- Height: 7’3" (221 cm)
- Age: 25
- Roles: Driver #2, Pit Stop Assistant
The Clunker:
This was a 1970 Bricksley Regent limousine - Granted, the only differences from 1965 up to 1972 were in the interior, which has been thoroughly stripped out on this one. While there’s a lot of rumors about where it got the bullet holes, busted window, and dents everywhere, the one certain thing is this - It’s a horrid piece of literal junkyard scrap that got pulled together.
How bad is it?
Well, it’s been sitting in Trevor’s junkyard since it got junked in 1992 with a blown up 427 cubic inch V8 under the hood. It got a reluctant resurrection in January when the Hooligans decided to try entering Shitbox Rally 2023, where the car suddenly found the engine from a 1990 AMCW Trail-Hunter shoved under the hood in replacement for the meaty V8 it once had. Now stuck with 5 cylinders of fury, and a mere 2.3 liters of displacement, this rolling wreck has the acceleration of the Empire State Building thanks to still having a very abused Bricksley Selecta 3-speed automatic gearbox in between the engine and the rear axle.
Does the crew know a lot about what’s wrong with it?
Yes.
Everything is wrong with it. Whether it’s the junkyard I5 under the hood, the tired old slushbox, the driveshaft-from-hell running the whole length of the car, or the massive pile of ancient cross-ply whitewall tires the team intends to use, all of it has problems…
But what do you expect with a free race car? Especially a free race car that had to have a right-hand-drive addition for one of their crew members to even get some seat time?
Yes, this car has two steering wheels, two brake pedals, two accelerators, and a linked pair of floor shifters so that Valentin can actually drive the car instead of just watching it this time.
Will they finish triumphantly, or will the dual controls be their demise? Will they win, or will the Swiss-cheese body construction leave half the car on the track? Will it even finish, or will the transmission die and leave the crew pushing their once-proud-but-not-very-loud car up onto the trailer?
No one knows.
All we know is that the car is #69, it’s in rough shape, and there’s three idiots and a tall Swede planning to wrestle it around the track.
Index:
Trouble Even Before the Race
Repairs? Nah, Just Paint It.
Noon to 4 PM - Jake in the Driver’s Seat
Noon to 4 PM - The Pit Lane
4 PM to 8 PM - Driving on the Right!
8 PM to Midnight - Full Contact Banger Racing
Midnight to 4 AM - Cody in the Driver’s Seat
7 Likes
OK, this might sound like a bad joke, but since there was an update dropped today and I haven’t had time to investigate it, I will give two more days for rules deliberation. Hopefully this will be the last delay for this challenge to start.
In the meantime I have changed:
WEIGHT SLIDER RULES: There really was no reason why the distribution slider could not be touched earlier, and I allowed for making the car lighter. The truth is, that was not my fear, my fear is that you can get more reliability to just a small gain in weight pretty easy by making the car heavier. I understand that function in campaign etc. to not make hyperlight family cars.
QUALITY SLIDER RULES: You have gotten more freedom, just remember…so have I.
ENGINE YEAR RULES: You have gotten more freedom, but…guess what?
TP RULES: Not really done yet since I have to check out what the update have done, but you WILL get more TP to play with, so don’t sweat the old preliminary rules.
5 Likes
OK, since TP seems to be working now, I did as a suggestion I got, based costs on default (but gave a very slight margin) and banned negative TP. It’s no large meaning behind being too restrictive when ingame costs aren’t counted with, I guess.
Now, a little bit over 23 hours left to come with some final suggestions.
2 Likes
I think weight sliders should be restricted, the weight slider gives super much reliability and only very minor gain in weight
1 Like
I have already restricted moving them to heavier than the default 50, for that exact reason.
Whats the reasoning behind the requierement of having at least 1.2 Hz of spring frequency? Normaly I see people trying to restrict making the suspention to hard instead of avoiding a soft one.
Could the p/w-ratio be raised a bit. Using a Turbo becomes utterly pointless with the low power/weight. Without any quality I make it to 0.22 without even adding quality to the 1.4l engine.
I have been into a discussion with @AndiD about this, which seems to understand how tracks works better than I do, so he probably can explain it better, but as I have understood it, on a track like Höljes, you will actually get an advantage with a car that is sprung too soft, so much that it is an easy way to cheese into better lap times than you really should have had. I hope he jumps in and explains it better than what I can.
Also, what kind of a monster are you making if you get to 0.22? 
My test mule for that was sort of based around what something resembling a Mk2 Golf GTi 8V would weigh in race ready trim, and then I still raised it a bit from that, sure, I can get that I maybe didn’t raise it enough but more than twice from the already raised limit, ain’t that a bit much in comparision?
I let one of the devs take care of the explanation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TAcho4raOA (somewhere in the middle iirc)
I did cut my engine by 200ccm and reduced boost to 0.3 bar. My car is based of a Renault 5 Turbo 2 that I had built for Beam a while ago. I basically tuned down everything now, to make it use the most basic components where possible/allowed. Car has around 900kg and with the 1.4L and 0.8 bar boost it did put out over 200-250hp.
Those are some insane performance numbers. I’m engineering a 150hp malaise barge, I think you are slightly off the mark thought process wise…
Figured that out myself while watching the video again and started working on a Wartburg 1.3 inspired car now. That should fit the bill of a proper shitbox.
OK, since there were no more major objections, this challenge is officially open for submissions now since a couple of hours.
Also, yes, I know there has been rule changes back and forth all the time, but in case the new ruleset works this time, I have decided that this is (allowing for small adjustments) what is going to be nailed for future rounds too (unless there are major changes implemented in the game).
3 Likes
Team Highway Hooligans
A Phone Call to Sweden
Jake sighs as the phone rings, and rings, and rings some more.
Finally, the line connects.
On the other end, even before any actual response was spoken, it was obvious that timing ended up less than ideal.
Valentin: [groggy as hell] “Hello?”
Jake: Yeah, sorry to wake you. Jake Storm, of the Highway Hooligans here… Cody just made us miss our flight.
Cody: I told you, I had no idea we weren’t allowed to bring brake cleaner, oil, or a car jack in our luggage.
Jake: We’ll be on the next available plane, but… We’re giving you the heads-up that we’re going to be late.
Valentin: Way to make a first impression… Ugh… [a moment of nothing] I can try and get the car in the meantime. Tell me once you actually make it here…
A muffled thud can be heard as Valentin’s head plonks back into the pillow.
Jake: Will do.
Before Jake hangs up, there’s a half-muffled slap and Cody hollering, “What the fuck, Trev!?”
Many hours and an airplane ride later…
As the three get off of the airplane and head through the airport, Jake grabs his phone and dials Valentin’s number again.
Jake: Jake here. We made it, even if Trevor wanted to put Cody’s head down an airplane toilet.
Valentin picks up, this time not tired to hell and back and already waiting for them near the terminal area.
Valentin: Aalright then… Let me loop around the lot and I will be there in a few minutes.
He hangs up almost immediately afterwards, rolling up in a miniature forward control “semi” truck (pictured below). However, there evidently is no oversized barge of a stretch limousine on the back of it.
Valentin leans over to the front passenger door, pushing it open.
Valentin: Could not get the car by myself because you lot shipped it to yourself. So we need to collect it now and then head out to track.
As the trio step outside, Trevor calls “Shotgun!” just before Jake does.
Jake: Lucky bastard.
Trevor: You snooze, you lose.
No sooner had Trevor said that, Jake races out to the truck and dives into the passenger rear bench seat, leaving Cody with two shitty options - Either ride directly behind Val with his knees in the seat, or riding with one foot on either side of the driveshaft hump.
Cody: Jake, you bitch!
Jake: You made us miss our flight, Cody, you get the shitty seat options.
Valentin: I would shift forwards a bit to free up space, but my knees are already hugging the dashboard from underneath…
Once everyone was inside and buckled up, Valentin headed back to the harbor once more for a second attempt at collecting the car in question. Once there, a quick talk with the gatekeeper had them roll across the premises to another office.
Valentin: You do have the paperwork? Or at least some form of ID so we can actually get the car?
Jake chuckles.
Jake: We have passports, and I’ll hand Trev the paperwork so he can get the car. That way, Mr. “I tried to bring pressurized cans on the plane” can’t steal my seat.
Trevor grabs the paperwork from Jake, then looks over to Valentin.
Trevor: Well, let’s go get our rolling wreck and see about getting it on the trailer. Have to admit, this thing’s quite comfortable for how small it is.
Cody: Yeah, you’re not the one folded into the back of this shoebox…
Valentin: Once again, i would make some space, but physically cannot do it…
They find themselves in front of the container soon after, where Valentin finally leaves the car, heading over to the container in question to open it.
Within, the known shitbox shitbarge of a Bricksley Regent Limo presented itself in all it’s “glory”.
Valentin: [mumbled] The fun of getting things out of containers barely large enough for that thing to fit into…
Trevor: D’you say somethin’? Was just looking at our situation and thinking, maybe we use the winch on the trailer and tie off to the bash bar. I did those welds myself, so they’re straight to the frame rails. Don’t have to worry if we scratch the paint - Got a few cans of Bricksley blue in the trunk, and a few of white.
After a moment of thinking, Valentin nods.
Valentin: Right. Let me get back in and back this thing up against the container.
With nigh-pinpoint precision, the rig is turned around, now facing the other way and with enough of a gap to put the aluminum ramps between it and the container, allowing a smooth transition while loading it up.
Trevor looks at the situation, then shouts to the others in the truck.
Trevor: Jake, Cody, get your asses out here and help unstrap the car!
After a quick bail-out by Cody and a more casual one by Jake, the two head over to the container and get the car ready to move.
Trevor: Okay, Val, your equipment, your controls.
Valentin: [finger quote] My [end quote] equipment. Borrowed the thing off of my father.
Grabbing the winch hook, he unwinds it while keeping some tension on the line so as to not tangle up anything on the winch drum. The hook is handed over to Trevor, with a notion of putting it “somewhere safe, ideally the tow hook”. This “somwhere” ended up being a tow loop welded to the bash bar up front, granting more than enough rigidity for the winch to pull it onto the trailer.
Valentin: [while digging in a box underneath the trailer’s bed] Alright. Parking brake in, a strap across each tire to the floorboard and we are good to go.
He procures a set of four ratchet straps, handing them out to the others, himself starting with the front left.
Cody: Holy fucking shit, you’re tall!
Jake rolls his eyes at Cody’s admittedly-predictable reaction to Val’s height, just accepting his ratchet strap and reaching into the car to jam the transmission back in Park, having been shipped in Neutral.
Trevor: Yeah, he is quite tall. Any reason why you don’t play basketball?
Cody: Nah, he’s clearly a swimmer. Hell of an advantage when you’re two feet taller than everyone else on the block.
With the tires strapped down and the car in park, the parking brake applied, and a set of wheel chocks thrown behind the front tires for good measure, Jake shakes his head, then looks over to Trevor.
Jake: Pay up. Fifty bucks, Trev.
Trevor reluctantly hands over $50.
Trevor: Why aren’t you curious about his height at all?
Jake: Because everyone’s taller than me… And he’s not exactly my tallest friend.
Valentin goes around the car once more to check the ratchets himself to make sure they are tight while the height conversation unfolds.
Valentin: [almost-but-not-really-annoyed] Neither basketball, nor swimming… My thing is cycling.
Once the 50 dollar bill changes hands, curiosity does gather up a bit.
Valentin: Wait you were placing bets on my height?
Jake: Nah, I bet him a while back that if we had to move your seat forward in the car, I’d owe him $50. I’m the only one here that believed the 7’3" at face value.
Trevor: I figured maybe 6’8" or 6’10", but not 7’3".
Cody, on the other hand, seemed to have a thought percolating for just long enough that Jake and Trevor figured it was either going to be really bad, or incredibly stupid, or both.
Cody: So, do you ride one of those clown bikes with the really, really big front wheel and the tiny rear wheel?
Valentin: If I recall correctly, the height one was done by the local hospital, so even if I tried to, lying there seems difficult… and no, Penny-Farthings are not my type of bike.
With the car now secured, Valentin heads back up front to start the trip to the Holjes track.
Trevor again manages to call “Shotgun!” first, though this time, Cody’s the one that got to the truck first, diving into the front passenger seat and giving Trevor the middle finger.
Jake slides over to Val’s side of the truck bench, then motions to his knees and the seat back, smirking as Trevor gets in behind Cody, and proceeds to semi-violently knee the seat-back, jolting Cody forward.
Cody: Ow!
Trevor: I called shotgun, you stole my seat, you get punished.
Valentin: Would you mind not ruining the truck, please?
While the request initially seemed to work, not long after they were out on the road, Trevor was already back at it, “lightly” prodding Cody’s seat again.
In response, Cody tries to move it forwards, with no luck:
Cody: “Where’s the fucking power seat controls!?”
Valentin: “Latch underneath the seat… pull that up and scoot forwards…”
Cody grabs the latch and slides the seat forward with a series of loud, obnoxious clunks.
Jake: Jesus Christ, Cody! Val said not to ruin the truck!
Cody: Tell that to the prick kneeing me in the back every 15 fucking miles.
Trevor: Maybe next time, when someone calls “shotgun,” you’ll honor it.
Other than an annoyed grunt, not much comes from the driver’s seat, a fact which largely stays unchanged for the remainder of the roughly 7 hour drive to the track.
Upon arrival, the truck is parked wherever there’s space for both the truck itself and also other participants to get past it if need be.
Valentin: “Made it…”
Cody: Oh, thank fuck we’re actually here!
Jake: Yeah, no thanks to you and your refusal to read the rules on what is and isn’t allowed in your luggage. Or your idea of trying to hit snooze on your alarm 3 times when we’re getting ready to board the second flight.
Trevor: Well, we’re quite early, so… Looks like we’re camping the night.
Jake grimaces as he looks back to the car, where they’d stored their luggage.
Jake: That’s gonna suck.
Valentin: You say that again… I may have been forward-thinking enough to bring relevant equipment for the race itself, but you try and procure fitting sleeping accommodation when mass-market products universally are summed up as “nope”.
Regardless, are we unloading now or tomorrow morning?
Jake seems to think it over for a bit, then shrugs.
Jake: Let’s unload it now. Saves us the headache of trying to do this tomorrow morning with other teams around.
Valentin: Reasonable enough…
The unloading process was nothing spectacular, given the vast amounts of parking lot available to do it in.
As such, the car was gently pushed off of the back end of the trailer, only requiring the initial “get it moving” push while the angle of the loading deck did the work for the rest of the way.
Afterwards, ratchet straps and ramps were packed up again.
Valentin: Got that done. I think i will just try and find some vaguely bearable position within the truck or something…
Trevor: Probably the best plan overall for you.
Jake: We’ve got a couple of simple cheap tents and some sleeping bags. If I’d thought about it, I’d have asked a friend for some supplies, but I wasn’t exactly in the area for that.
Cody: I hate camping…
Trevor: Well, if we hadn’t missed the first flight, we’d have been in a hotel room, get the car, bring it here on the morning of the race, and spent no time at all in the emergency tents. But someone decided to make us miss that flight…
Cody: Yeah, yeah, yeah… Get off my ass about it.
Valentin: Until tomorrow morning, then.
Valentin heads back up front to reclaim the driver’s seat of the Moover truck, followed by extensive fiddling with it’s adjustment range in an attempt to locate a somewhat comfortable position to sleep in.
Luckily, once he is asleep, staying asleep is no problem at all.
Jake and Trevor fiddle about for a while, setting up a couple of tents. Cody waits until Trevor’s done with his tent and slips inside, forcing Trevor to set up another one. A swift shove collapses the tent on Cody, while the other two just get comfortable.
Thankfully, the night is relatively peaceful.
To Be Continued…
7 Likes
Team Slow
A team that goes back a long time, so much so that i’ve stuck to it because i lack ideas. (and im lazy af)
Characters:
Matthew “Matt” Smith (22M)
Isabella “Izzy” Jackson (24F)
Car Lore:
Our car, just so happens to be an JDM-specification 91’ Hakumai Premier Touring Facelift, swapped with a 3.0l Schnell V8. The car itself was acquired from a previous owner who had imported it 25 years ago from Japan, but over the years it’s fell into disrepair, and that’s why we bought it. Some of the mechanicals aren’t from the original car; some of it’s from the Premier’s related models. The power steering pump is broken.
Team lore:
The idea of the team has been formed, from when the team leader, Matt, had a discussion with an ex-team member, John; both had an passion for long-duration racing and automotive shitbox fun, started with an mid-engine sportscar. After an major event, John got kicked out of the team, and has been replaced by Izzy, who does half of everything on the team. She’s been commited to it, and she likes the style of events that the team participates in. The team had some prior experience in these sorts of races, so they have some idea of what they’re doing? Time will tell.
talk about replacement for displacement when the engine has like 174hp. Let me just say, it probably has some engine issues
5 Likes
Shitbox Racing Development (SRD)
Number: 9
Members: Evan Oliver (46,UK 92.0 k) ; Chris Berggren(28,US 85.9 k) ; Annika Lehtonen(25,Finnish 55.4 k) ; Kaari Lehtonen(25,Finnish, 56.4k)
The SRD started first with Evan, a seasoned mechanic known for his love of restoring classic cars, stumbled upon a dilapidated vehicle in a forgotten garage in the english countryside. Intrigued by the challenge, he couldn’t resist the idea of bringing the forgotten machine back to life. Little did he know that this rusty relic would become the centerpiece of an international collaboration.
After News of Evan’s discovery reached Chris, Swedish-american and rallycross enthusiast from the United States who had always dreamed of partichouipating in a Clunker race like the ones that he saw on the vhs that his uncle sent him. Berggren, who had a knack for connecting with like-minded individuals through online forums, caught wind of Evan’s project and immediately contacted him. The two struck up a conversation and quickly realized the potential for an extraordinary adventure.
However, they quickly realized they both, while having a lot of enthusiasm, they never driven competivily in dirt, nevermind the snow. The proposition of driving 12 hours each also wasn’t very cool to them. Fortunatly Evan’s email was getting bombarded by one of the Lehtonen twins, Kaari. She explained that she and her sister wanted to buy the wedgie in whatever condition it is to use it in the Clunker race. Oliver and Berggren instead replied that instead of selling them the car to join their team to win the Clunker. The rest is history.
The car:
This is the 1990 HED Wedgie Ñ.
Designed for performance and comfort. Equiped with a powerful 2 liter inline 4. The Ñ version was made for homologation for group A Touring cars in Hetvesia, and produced 135 hp. It manged to get 1st in the FWD class in the 1991 Hetvesia TC2000. This model would not last long as SED ended up down-sizing due to low sales of their more sporty cars. Changing radically to SUVs and luxury vehicles.
This particular car was found in a very bad condition. Shot tires, rusting bodypanels, a bent chassis and blown airbags from a particularly bad crash (Probably why it was abandoned in barn). Front right suspension collapsed. Missing catalitic converter and most of the exhaust. Most of the money was spent in repairing these critical issues. Now it has some brand new used tires, and coilovers… only on the front right. and the cheapest exhaust and cat that passed inspection… and the rest so some bribe money so they dont mind the interesting suspension and bent and rusted chasis.
At least the spoiler is well fixed to car.
At least the spoiler is well fixed to car.
6 Likes