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
Timeloss Presents
1965 Kazrohn 452
The Following is notes written by Mirage
The Kazrohn 452 is awful. Painfully awful. Actually Shit. We want to get rid of it, so this is the perfect excuse to just dump this thing before we move to the USA. Ruuka "bought" this thing for a weird trade, basically gave these two Russian farmers about $100 in scrap metal, and they let her have this soviet-era shitvan. This thing did serve us well, moving us about Europe with some troubles. Mainly, we've had to replace the front suspension like four different times. There are some other weird quirks, too. We think there's a hole in the exhaust somewhere, there's rust on the subframe for sure, and I think there might just be a hole in the floor under the carpets.
This thing will probably kill us, I’m going to be honest. We’ve done nothing to make it better, just stripped it for a cage and stuck some stickers on it. Grayse and Vic are optimistic, but I reckon we’re gonna lose the race even if the breadbox doesn’t shit the bed before the end. (Not that we even thought we had a chance of winning -R) Threw some backup lights on the roof, some speakers for the hell of it, and Zoya found that skull on their travels. They really wanted the skull on there.
We’re here for a good time not a long time, after all.
-Mirage, Timeloss Mechanic & Spotter.
8 Likes
This is discrimination!
Anyways, can i have number 13?
5 Likes
MACHINAS CON PASSIONE DEVELOPMENT SQUAD
The Story
The Skids Motorsport Complex, Anytown, USA, 2023.
Giacomo Scarfiotti had known cars and racing nearly as long as he’d been alive. His first taste of motor racing came from before he was even properly born. His father, Alessio Scarfiotti, enjoyed a long career in Sports car racing, and as such, brought his wife and soon to be son with him across the globe for years, until father time caught up with Alessio, and he hung up his racing equipment at the end of the 1982 season.
Though his father continued racing professionally on a part time basis until the late 90s, Giacomo found that he hadn’t inherited even the slightest amount of ability from his accomplished father. Though initially looked at as a disappointment, Giacomo’s genius shone through in his mastery of the art of car design, which was a fact that reverberated through Giacomo’s mind as he found himself barrel rolling down the backstretch of The Skids Motorsport Complex.
He was always the mastermind, never the executioner.
Despite the many shortcomings he’d endured, after his experience in the shitbox rally, Giacomo was determined to become the greatest racing driver of all time, having recently adopted the most strenuous training program he’d known all his life, a rigorous regime of at least 5 pushups in any given day, one protein shake to be consumed at a to be determined point in time, and a jumping jack, if he had behaved well that day. Truly, with a program like this, he would become Italy’s best driver, surpassing the likes of even Alberto Ascari!
A deep, all encompassing pit enveloped Giacomo’s very being as the thought came to mind. Seemingly ignoring the multiple injuries he’d likely suffered in the accident, Giacomo undid his own straps, springing out of the car with the energy of a methed-out hamster, and frantically got down on his knees, praying to Alberto Ascari for forgiveness for blaspheming his name. Safety officials quickly surrounded Giacomo, who fought them off about as effectively as people fight in their dreams, and he was quickly taken to the ambulance for a medical exam. The last thing Giacomo saw as the ambulance drove off was the sight of his manager, the 17th one he’d hired for his pursuit of glory, shook his head at Giacomo in disapproval.
The Hospital, a few minutes later.
Giacomo, having failed to convince the track safety workers that he was completely fine, found himself alone in the hospital bed, waiting for the doctor to give him a brief on his condition. As he lay in solitude, he did something that he’d never done before in his life: taking more than two seconds to stop and really think about the situation he was in. He thought about his potential as a racing driver and how far he could really go. Sure, he was no spring chicken at 50, but he had the genes, the rock hard abs (unconfirmed), and the iron will to become a Karting champion. But, the truth was, in the months after the Shitbox Rally, Giacomo’s go-karting pursuits had produced nothing in the way of notable results. He’d crashed 30 karts, gone through 17 managers, and had forgotten to call Johnny that day to geek out about Ferrari. Giacomo began to seriously reconsider his future, that was, however, until his phone rang. Quickly checking his phone, the latest model iPhone 15, Giacomo saw the contact for Hikiko, his ex-lover and current leader of Giacomo’s top 5 bestest friends list. Without hesitation, he answered.
“Giacomo, you there?” She asked. Giacomo responded by checking out his goatee in his facetime camera, seemingly oblivious to Hikiko’s presence. “Oh, um… I’ll take that as a yes.” Hikiko sighed. “Uh… So…. How’s the whole karting thing gone?” She figured inquiring a bit into Giacomo’s racing career wouldn’t hurt, though she knew as well as anyone that Giacomo had the driving talent of Nikita Mazepin, if Nikita had his hands ground into nubs, his feet bound to his head, and the steering wheel left in a package addressed to Santa Claus sent via snail mail; which is to say he was not very good at driving anything.
Giacomo was too embarrassed to admit that he had just destroyed his 30th kart, and activated one of his rarely utilized special abilities - lying through his teeth.
“No! Everything is great! See!” Giacomo forced a smile through the unbearable agony of having to remember the great deal of money sunk into the program so far, and Hikiko, having known Giacomo for nearly 40 years, saw right through his lie. She couldn’t decide on whether she should go along with the lie or call him out, and seeing the water in Giacomo’s eyes, she figured letting it go would be the best option.
“Oh, um… You know what, that’s great! I’m really glad for you! You could probably be a real champion someday.” Somewhere deep down in her mind, the purely survival based part of Hikiko’s brain immediately began melting down as those words left her mouth, her primal essence knowing better than she did that giving Giacomo any kind of encouragement, especially in the face of abject failure, was well beyond the realm of terrible ideas, and even came close to bordering the top 15 list of worst ideas ever had.
This became immediately clear when Giacomo, visibly injured, began marching out of the hospital room, his head held high, strutting right past his doctor, his team of nurses and his marketing team, ranting to Hikiko about how “The next one would be ours!” as he got into his MCP Lombardi, revved the v12 engine one too many times, and made a beeline for the airport.
Daytona Beach, USA, Later that same day.
It’s another sunny day in Daytona Beach. Though the spring breakers have gone home, the ravers are waiting on the moon, and the racers are actually in New Smyrna at the moment, the beach found itself as densely populated as ever, full of people coming and going to and from the beach through the many plazas, thoroughfares and stands that weaved through it. It was a much different scene to the chaos that erupted within the Machinas Con Passione garage.
While the beach provided its trademark scenic views and tranquil ocean waves, the team headquarters currently resembled the war room of a country that had just been informed of the intent of it’s worst rival to launch an intercontinental ballistic missile strike. There were papers and engineers scattered about, people sprinting across the small confines of the team headquarters, with the source of the chaos standing awkwardly in the middle of a garage, holding a slightly crumpled newspaper with the words “Trafikjournalen” highlighted and circled multiple times, was Johnny Scarfiotti, sweating nervously and staring in awe at the absolute chaos that had erupted ahead of him after merely mentioning that race.
One particular engineer fell at Johnny’s feet, as if begging him for some kind of forgiveness or mercy. “PLEASE… DON’T TELL HIM! DON’T TELL GIACOMO!” he pleaded, tears streaming from his eyes, staining Johnny’s fake Jays in the process. However, his words seemed to be for nothing, as at that moment, as if summoned by the mere mention of his name, a ding from the doorway announced the arrival of Giacomo himself, who, given the sheer volume of the engineer’s pleading, managed to hear every word perfectly. “Don’t tell Giacomo what? I mean, my birthday already passed!” Giacomo, naturally, was completely clueless to the situation and presumed the surprise was in regards to his surprise birthday party that the team had “forgotten” to throw this year. Johnny, noticing Giacomo, was about to tell him about the event he’d read about before being tackled by an army of 5 mechanics and engineers. In the scuffle, the paper was sent flying, and landed conveniently at Giacomo’s feet.
Giacomo leaped at the opportunity to dive for the paper, hiding behind the counter as he did so, and went unnoticed in the commotion due to the rapidly increasing dogpile on the shop floor. The engineers worst fears had been realized:
Giacomo had an idea.
“ALRIGHT! THAT’S ENOUGH!” a booming voice reverberated through the halls as everyone’s attention shot towards the source of the voice, a short japanese woman in her 50s. Hikiko wordlessly pointed to the corner, and the mechanics stopped beating on Johnny and shuffled to where Hikiko pointed, preparing to think about their life decisions. Hikiko sighed, helping Johnny up as Giacomo poked his head out from behind the counter. Hikiko noticed Giacomo’s arrival, and sighed again as she prepared for the inevitable onslaught.
“We will enter and WIN this ‘clunker run’!” Giacomo excitedly declared, triggering a chorus of groans from the engineers, who were quickly silenced by Hikiko shouting at them in Japanese, which none of the engineers understood, but were quieted by all the same. Johnny excitedly rushed over to Giacomo as the two conversed in quiet Italian as Hikiko gave the engineers a verbal dressing down over the state of the garage.
“Hey, Giacomo, you really think we can do it?” Johnny asked, excitedly hopping up and down at the idea. Giacomo peeked out again from behind the counter, twiddling his stache all the way. “Of course, except, there’s one problem. We can’t prove the greatness of Machinas Con Passione in this contest, I mean, every car we’ve ever made is amazing!” Johnny and Hikiko exchanged knowing looks at each other from across the garage, before Johnny went back to Giacomo to bring him back to reality. “Uncle. We made a car like that.”
Apparently, despite designing every facet of the car himself, and greenlighting it’s production personally, this was completely shocking news for Giacomo, who promptly grasped his head in horror, letting out a faint, ghastly wail as he slowly fell to the ground. Johnny tried to hold back a nervous sweat, but couldn’t stop a trickle of sweat falling from his brow (likely owing to the fact that sweating consciously is not possible). He now felt obligated to try and lift his uncle’s spirits.
“Um… Hey, uncle, it’s not so bad. Besides, you made the Lombardi! And the Giocattolo! Great cars! Keep your chin up!” And so, with hardly any convincing needed, Giacomo did. He looked up to Johnny, who’s lusciously full locks and perfectly trimmed eyebrows were currently drenched in nervous sweat. Knowing his ego was at stake, Giacomo once again unleashed his rarely utilized special ability of lying through his teeth, providing another excellent display of deception as he did so. “Yeah… b-but… We’ve never made a car like that… haha. Heh.” Giacomo stumbled over his words and stammered his sentences with the pure authoritative finality of Judge Dredd. Johnny squinted at Giacomo as he said this, putting a subtle, yet very effective, pressure on Giacomo to cut the crap. Giacomo responded with righteous indignation. “I! HAVE NEVER! MADE! A SHITBOX!” He shouted.
“A shitbox? I think you mean most of MCP’s cars.” Hikiko, Johnny, and Giacomo had made the trek to contact the old historian of MCP for any viable shitboxes, as Giacomo had vehemently refused to call a car of his creation by that title, in spite of his insistence of entering the clunker run, which required a shitbox for entry in the first place. Hence the name. Despite not getting the memo, Giacomo fought tooth and nail for what little dignity he had, not wanting to admit that MCP had been an abject failure and utter waste of money for it’s brief existence. While Johnny moved to place a hand on Giacomo’s shoulder, Ryouchi, who had been dragged into the whole situation, threatened Giacomo with the spray bottle to ensure his compliance in the meeting, seeing as he’d dragged them to the dusty house in the middle of nowhere in the first place.
The historian, a distinguished Italian woman in her 80s, patiently waited for the MCP crew to settle down before continuing. “Well,” she began. “If you need something specific, I would recommend a Vittorio model. I actually drive one myself. Giacomo, I know you’re going to ask, so I’ll give you permission to use it, but you must have it back in one piece by the end of the month. I do have errands to run, you know.” Giacomo was about to speak up, but Ryouchi wielded the spray bottle once more, causing Giacomo to take a deep breath before continuing. “Ah, yes, mother. I promise.”
Ah, yes. The MCP Lombardi. A true marvel of Automotive Mediocrity. Hikiko had actually driven the car competitively in various disciplines, and though it provided a good, if mild, basis for motorsports use, the base model was, well, put simply, as base as it could possibly get for a car. It drove, was made simply, and sipped fuel at enough of a pace to keep both your hopes and bank account in good condition. It made a fine example of a car for use in the Clunker Run.
Ryouchi would wind up test driving the car, making sure to take the backroads and making good use of the handbrake and his very potentially real Driving Focus ability to run the car through it’s paces, all while his mother, little sister, deranged employer and bane of his existence all held on for dear life in the various seats the Vittorio had to offer. Sitting next to her brother by was of having called shotgun in advance, Koharu’s gremlin tendencies had her wind up being potentially the only person in the car not terrified of a swift demise at the hands of the many street poles and traffic Ryouchi passed on his way to the teams garage.
Somehow, having defied all laws of physics, the party survived Ryouchi’s dance with the devil. Enduring his mother’s admonishment, Ryouchi made his way to the MCP staff, and began trying to convince his mechanics to work on the Vittorio, turning it into the shitbox-monstrosity it was always meant to be. A chorus of groans erupted at the prospect of using professionally trained mechanics (well, relatively, all of the decent mechanics had gone on vacation, leaving only the interns and newbies still on probation) to turn a normal car into a world beating, box destroying shitbox, but all concerns seemed to evaporate as soon as Hikiko rolled down the window, glaring right through the crowd of engineers who quickly got to work moving the Vittorio onto the shop floor.
And so, it was time to begin chopping apart Giacomo’s pride, tearing his ego to shreds and spitting directly into the face of his ancestors… (Hey, did Giacomo write that part?) Regardless, it was quite a taxing endeavor owing to the eccentric design choices Giacomo had made, turning the car from a normal grocery getter on the outside, to a maze of internals and bizarre part placements. Ryouchi and Johnny, being the youngest, were naturally assigned the grunt work by Hikiko, as Koharu was asked to be Ryouchi’s assistant, a job she made sure that Ryouchi would regret. Johnny was elated to have a chance to finally examine one of his uncle’s cars, while Ryouchi found himself more and more irritated by each passing moment.
While taking the car apart to ensure it was in working order, a slight problem emerged of the fusebox needing to be taken apart with a procedure complicated enough to require it’s own bomb defusal manual. Ryouchi had squeezed himself into the access panel for the box, which just so happened to require him to squeeze himself into the footwell upside down as Koharu read the instructions aloud, and was very close to yanking the box out entirely.
A stray wire poking him in the eye would see him do this and much more, taking a handful of wires with him as he tumbled out of the car and onto the shop floor. "Fuck! Giacomo, why the hell are you like this?!” Giacomo, poring over the engine blueprints, looked up from desk, giving Ryouchi a hapless shrug. Koharu, meanwhile, nudged him with his foot, remarking that “Break Time was over!” and sending Ryouchi back into the trenches.
The car was also fully stripped and had the chassis swapped out for a lighter one Giacomo had left lying around for some time now, demanding it be built “FOR THE GREATEST CAR I WILL EVER DESIGN” before promptly flooding his office with a sea of crumpled up papers and rejected designs. Also on the list of things that needed to go were the Automatic gearbox, owing to Hikiko’s insistence on simplifying as many aspects of the car as were necessary to ensure lightness and reliability, something Giacomo dismissed as being “too british” before being reminded that the only british car maker MCP has ever surpassed is British Leyland’s decomposing corpse.
And so, after a good few weeks of hard work (Johnny had sprung the news of the clunker run entirely last minute, as usual), the car was done. It had the structural stability of melted butter, and the reliability figures were less numbers and more optimistic shrugs, but after being fitted with a gleaming coat of Rosso Corsa, the MCP Development Squad was finally prepared to roll out. Which is exactly what the rear left tire did after Johnny forgot to tighten it before rolling off the lot. This is going to be a very long 24 hours.
The Team:
DRIVER 1 - GIACOMO SCARFIOTTI
The man, the myth, the legend, Giacomo will be making his racing re-debut at the clunker run in front of all 3 of his adoring fans (his parents and Johnny). …Let’s just hope he doesn’t get hurt.
DRIVER 2 - RYOUCHI KATOU
The reserved, moody, maybe just a bit of a main character syndrome having Ryouchi is back in the drivers seat, driving another extremely uncomfortable car at the behest of his very kind and loving boss. The things you do to make your boss happy.
DRIVER 3 - JOHNNY SCARFIOTTI
Johnny, winner of the “most likely to be a racing champion” award in kindergarten, is back in the mix, ready to finally win something that’s not a highly professional competition between the fastest cars, most technical engineers and biggest egos in the racing world cause… shit’s boring i guess. He just really wants a break.
EMOTIONAL SUPPORT:
Hikiko, Koharu, Alessio, and Giacomo’s mom will be in attendance at the race as emotional support. If anything breaks down, a few underpaid interns/mechanics will be on standby to pray for a safe passage into the afterlife for whoever’s in the car, because fixing anything on this bad boy will likely be a royal pain in the everywhere. They’re mostly here for Giacomo’s sake, and won’t be too involved in the running of the car.
10 Likes
Would you consider allowing an entry from ChatGPT?
Yes, but it better has to be somewhat believable then.
4 Likes
Alright, if i do go make one with it I’ll tell you about it. If it goes too off the rails i’ll just not enter it.
Got a rustbucket coming though.
The “SDLN Group” will be driving their (My) Idessa Mata 1000, however the original engine blew up and so it has been replaced with a “Racing” engine which seems to involve something with hamsters…
4 Likes
Eberswalder Rennkollektiv
The Team
Alexander Biermann
Age: 34
Being born wehn the Wall had already fallen, but still with a GDR stemp on his birth certificate, Alex grew up in a village at the border to Poland in the wild 90s. Time of freedom: Kids barely ten years old driving in neglected Trabants on snowy fields. People were still waiting for their houses to get telephone connections, Farmers were still driving old soviet made tractors. With every strong wind electricity was gone for a day. Police was nowhere to be seen and if you called them they needed an hour to show up in a small Opel Corsa. Since young age Alex was driving Simson and MZ bikes in the forests. Driving that old things, he had to teach himself how to maintain and repair old engines. Later he punished his moms Passat over the sandy field roads, sacrificing an undertray or two over time. Now he is living an orderly family life, but still wanted to get another go at the driving madness from his youth. When he saw the announcement of this 24h-Race in Sweden, he knew what he wanted and he knew who to ask for a car.
Klaus-Dieter Biermann
Age: 79
KlauDi is Alex’ grandpa. He was a driving instructor and a mechanic in the GDR. Everybody hated it. Critizising, choleric as he was he managed to get is wife quitting to drive forever. He has calmed down over the years. As he never threw something away that had any chance of being repaired he had parked his Wartburg 353 in a barn in '92. In '93 he bought an engine for a Wartburg 1.3 and had planned to upgrade it, but never got to it. When Alex came to ask for the car, he liked the idea to spend time with him working on the car and even to go out driving himself, probably during the dayshift.
Johannes Winter
Age: 36
A former school friend of Alex and somebody who spends his time working on “project” cars, that never get finished, as one problem comes up when another one just got finished. He works in a metal construction. So while having a drivers license, he also got some skills that help with the car.
The Car
As mentioned the car was parked in a barn since '92. When the three got to the car, the interior was smelling to cat piss and the whole car was covered with centimeter thick layer of dust. Tyres flat, engine unusable. So it took a year to rebuild it to a driveable state. In the process the old two stroke engine was replaced with the VW EA 111 1.3l engine that KlauDi had laying around. Alex and Johannes bought a small turbo for a later version of the VW EA 111 from a scrapyard and upgraded the engine adding also an port fuel injection. Now it drives and has more power than ever before. The interior has brandnew imitated leather imitation. Now its on the way to sweden on axle. Driving streets it could have never been driven on, when it was new. KlauDi is already excited driving on the Storebæltsforbindelsen and Öresundsbron.
6 Likes
As someone you have more or less described in your team, I get that comedy reference from Kalkofe. 
3 Likes
No way, not to bring that joke. Are you the “nitpicker” on discord about the 353, 1.3 naming? EDIT: Okay, you are not, the “nitpicker” already said he is not you.
Burned Gasket Endurance Team
#05
The Team
Greg
Greg Hollinder
The Driver - 33 years old
"I mean, who isn't a driver these days right? So many people spend so much time behind the wheel getting to their jobs and back. There's so much untapped potential there. But as for me, I took my experience as a delivery driver for my local pizza shop and turned it up to 11.
I won't say I didn't get into my fair share of trouble late at night. The occasional burnout in an intersection, going too fast on the interstate, that sort of thing. But I'm less reckless these days, thanks to these guys. I just hope we can keep up with everyone else. I certainly wasn't doing a lot of driving during my other 24 hour activities."
Paul
Paul Querkle
The mechanic - 44 years old
"Our car is a solid entry, and I think with a little bit of clean-up it is going to be a lasting entry in the race. Good engine, good transmission, good chassis: its just whether or not it's going to last the beating we are about to give it.
Me? I used to run a business online fabricating engine swap mounting kits, but now my son runs it. Gives me a lot more time for wacky ideas like this! Greg asked me to join the team after he realized what kind of car he was going to be entering. I think it will impress him how much this little car will surpass our expectations."
Matt
Matt Rickson
The owner - 31 years old
"Yea, we got the car from my grandparents. It was kinda sad, because they gave it to me in their will. We went to go get it after the lawyer said the assets had been given to us. My grandparents had not taken the best care of it. It got left in the garage after my grandmother won the lottery and they bought a new car. My grandfather thought himself something of a mechanic, but he was fooling himself. When this car ended up not running anymore, he just left it in the garage saying 'I'll get out there and fix it one day', but that day never came. He had bought tools and parts, but didn't really know what he was doing.
Anyway, I didn't really need the car, but Greg was telling me at work about this race, and I couldn't think of a good reason not to give it a try. He put together the rest of the team and really brought the important elements together."
Steven
Steven Ulymany
The captain - 33 years old
"Greg asked me to help out on this race. I've been friends with Greg for a long time. We used to go to school together. We would play hockey in the street during the summer, and during high school we took metalshop together. He is a bit of a wild child, and he doesn't like to listen all of the time. No matter how good your advice, he likely isn't going to take it and has to figure it out for himself. I remember one time he was fixing his little project car, we were all over there havin' a beer and helping out. We couldn't get this frame cross-member back into the car, and once the boys had reached their limit, they went home. But Greg kept working. There was this little bolt on the subframe that wasn't quite in all the way. It fell out at one point while he tried to fuss the subframe into place. He didn't notice, the subframe fell and it pinned him under the car. He wasn't hurt or anything, but he couldn't get back out until his girlfriend came and rescued him that night when she got back from work! He called me the next morning and told me he was trapped out there for like 4 hours! We give him sh*t about it all the time."
The Car - Carlisle Stoop
The Carlisle Stoop was a Gasmean manufactured car from TGR industries. The original design was purchased from a Fruinian company Log Bore Motors. The version that was manufactured in Fruinia was a city economy car that offered a little sportiness and a lot of comfort. It was hugely popular, partially because it was cheap to buy. And cheap to produce, which is what spurred TGR Industries to purchase the design. Well, that, and the economic crisis that inevitably crippled Log Bore Motors, who then sought someone to purchase their assets pending their closure.
And as such, TGR Ind. relocated much of the original machinery from its prior manufacturing. Shortly therafter the Carlisle Stoop was released upon the Gasmean roads.
The Gasmean manufactured 1990 Carlisle Stoop sports a transversely mounted aluminum V6 engine at the front mated to a manual 5-speed transmission. This is an upgrade over the prior 4-speed mated to an in-line 4. The v6 5-speed makes about 120hp and 150 lb-ft. The drivetrain is settled on independent suspension all-around for a plush ride and stellar handling, improved over the prior iteration lacking progressive springs and gas-spring dampers. Overall it was accepted heartily by the Gasmean populace... for a time. After several years in service, increasing restrictions on emissions and an increasing global inflation made the prospect of V6 engined vehicles in the economy commuter category less and less appealing to buyers. It's spot in the market was eventually usurped by lighter, quieter, and more emission friendly choices.
The Stoop Today
The car as it enters the competition is far from the condition it left the factory. Paul took down some notes about things that should be addressed before the car enters the race:
Intake manifold gasket failure - replace
Timing chain is likely very worn - replace
AC compressor bearing is failing - remove AC?
Heater core hose is cracked at the firewall and has been leaking fluid on the firewall and frame.
Leaking banjo bolt on the front right brake caliper.
The front dampers are leaking fluid
Front tires are bald, rear wheels have quite a bit of rash.
Right rear wheel is missing a lug nut
New rear brake shoes needed, new front pads too
E-brake cable is almost broken.
Proportioning valve is leaking
Alignment
No headlights (bad bulb? bad ground?)
Lots of slop in the shifter, shift knob is missing
Passenger mirror is held on with glue that is failing
Timing chain is likely very worn - replace
AC compressor bearing is failing - remove AC?
Heater core hose is cracked at the firewall and has been leaking fluid on the firewall and frame.
Leaking banjo bolt on the front right brake caliper.
The front dampers are leaking fluid
Front tires are bald, rear wheels have quite a bit of rash.
Right rear wheel is missing a lug nut
New rear brake shoes needed, new front pads too
E-brake cable is almost broken.
Proportioning valve is leaking
Alignment
No headlights (bad bulb? bad ground?)
Lots of slop in the shifter, shift knob is missing
Passenger mirror is held on with glue that is failing
And here are some things that are going to make the car a less than pleasant racing experience:
Exhaust hanger bushing is almost completely gone
There is significant rust in the trunk under the floor covering.
The interior reeks of cigarette smoke, despite the 4 sun-bleached air-fresheners hanging from the rear view.
The rear windows will not go down.
The steering wheel is gross. Like its decaying or something. It's patchy and sticky and kinda crumbly.
One working windshield wiper motor.
No tachometer
There is significant rust in the trunk under the floor covering.
The interior reeks of cigarette smoke, despite the 4 sun-bleached air-fresheners hanging from the rear view.
The rear windows will not go down.
The steering wheel is gross. Like its decaying or something. It's patchy and sticky and kinda crumbly.
One working windshield wiper motor.
No tachometer
4 Likes
Team Oxracers II: The Return - Ep. 1: Roll call… again
(May make the most sense if you know Part I from last year. Don't have to read all 18 episodes though...)
The Team
A dark haired man in the mid-30s and a brand new, flashy and obviously unused racing suit enters and says with an unmistakable swagger in his tone. “Hello everyone, my name is Corazon de Carrera, and I am a world famous racing driver!”
Another person enters, about the same age and height, but with curly hair and regular, if a bit sloppy, clothing. He glances disapprovingly at the first person and states, slightly irritated. “My name is Michael Egbert, and I actually have a racing driver license.”
A third person enters from the other side, much taller than the other two. He joins them and states eagerly: “I am Lucas Dobberstonehaugh and I want to become a racing driver. My friends call me Dob.”
A fourth person with long flowing dark hair and a dark mechanic overall lowers herself from a pole from the floor above. She spins around and states. “I am Jane Warlock, and I can build cars for racing drivers, actual and otherwise…” She glances at Michael and Corazon, in that order.
A fifth person sneaks into the room, shorter than the others, and wearing colourful clothing that matches her hair colour. There is also a cat prominently features on her t-shirt. The camera lowers itself slightly to catch her in close to the centre of the picture. “And I am Mary Small, I keep track of all their expenses and team morale… and why did we have to say all that - again?”
The Setting
“Yes, and where are we?” Corazon wants to know. He looks out the window and reads the signs. “Sweden - again? There is a sign that says Höljesbanan 25.” He sighs.
Michael nods. “Yes, everyone’s doing sequels these days, so I guess we are as well.”
Lucas complains. “Noone has original ideas anymore…”
“Has everything been done that can and should be done?” Jane asks critically.
“Nah, everyone has just gotten risk averse these days”, Mary mutters. “Or lacks inspiration for something truly new.”
Together, they leave the nondescript building they have spawned in and approach the bright red car that is parked on the lawn outside.
The Car
“We did not even get a new car for the sequel.” Michael continues to complain. “That bloody Seongu Kando there looks very familiar.”
Jane nods. “Yes, I remember seeing it in a junkyard in part I. Someone had crashed into its rear.”
“I remember, too”, Lucas adds. “But not this particular one, obviously.”
“Obviously”, echoes Corazon, unhelpfully.
“So this is not New Game+?” Mary wonders.
“No, but someone apparently chose the Quick Start option this time”, Jane concludes.
Corazon seems to have no issue with that. “No sense in spending 10% of your playtime in the character creator as people in Baldur’s Gate III have done, apparently when you can get the best out of the box, amirite?”
More Background
“But we kept our classes and skills…?” Lucas wonders.
“Yes, because you can import your save from part I”, Jane points out.
“I also kept all my achievements and, most importantly, my winner’s trophy! So that is good!” Corazon again has nothing to complain. “And the car is not the same - it looks different?!”
“Well, it can be red.” Michael states the obvious.
“And turbo.” Mary also points out the obvious.
“I guess someone wanted to clearly distinguish their saves”, speculates Lucas.
“Or just re-use assets from the last game version”, hypothesises Jane. “The car looks pretty stock to me.”
“You mean suck?” That’s Michael.
“So definitely an asset reuse?” wonders Lucas.
Jane has completed a lap around the car. “Yes. Most importantly, this one has narrower wheels and intact wheel wells compared to part I.”
“Probably due to the new game patch fixing common exploits”, says Michael.
“Why update what isn’t broken? We won the last time!” Corazon, obviously.
“But it was pretty broken, so the patch is welcome”, retorts Michael.
“Will we win again?” Lucas wants to know.
Michael shrugs. “No idea, they changed quite a few things around since last year.”
Jane adds. “And it looks like the realism checkbox was ticked. I don’t think I can expect my friend Ludo having 225/45 R13 wheels handy in this game instance.”
“So this will finally allow achievements! And gamerscore!” Mary sees things from the bright side.
“Looks like it”, muses Lucas.
“The only thing I want to achieve is a win!” Corazon, again.
Meanwhile, Michael helps Jane push the car into a room that has “WORKSHOP” printed in large friendly letters above its exterior door. It is obvious that she wants to give the car a full check-up before they proceed.
6 Likes