I can be a switch villain if necessary, but i’d need a reason for one of my two slightly unhinged drivers to lash out.
(Also due to life circumstances its unlikely i will be a involved as i had hoped this time round, but i will try. Unfortunately this does mean no in detail description of the damage to my car, but i feel that what i’ve already provided is sufficient enough for rp purposes)
Yes, it was “shitboxy” enough, so to speak, don’t worry there.
Team Vet Inte - Pre Race Part 1
The team arrived in their newly acquired and fully packed Cago 200 to the track. After unpacking the massive load that was parts from the large estate trunk, the team started discussing what to do next.
“I don’t think we should bother the others yet.” Said Rasmus, trying to find the missing 10mm socket he swore he packed. “Let’s leave that to the evening when everyone is set up.”
“And has a beer in their hand” Added Andreas. “I think I’ll try to look around, see what the others got.” The team walked out of the garage, onto the back road behind the pit building.
“Like you would know. Tell me, how fast do you think that thing is?” Jonathan pointed at the Qua Kruzar a few garages down. “A lot fast” answered Andreas, seeing the sporty wedge shape which one would associate with a fast car. “I can also see someone brought the same car we did.”
The rest of the team burst out in laughter. “See, that’s why we won’t let you anywhere near the Cago because you would try finding electronics at the exhaust manifold. That, my man, is not a Cago. That’s a WAZ - probably as shit a car as ours, but entirely different. And that sporty thing, the Qua Kruzar I could probably outrun myself, unless it’s a GT.” Jonathan knew cars quite well, as did Rasmus and Martin. “Well to be honest, I thought that would be fast too” said Uncle.
Martin then spotted something man shaped on the roof. The team chose to go closer to investigate. The man shaped thing remained man shaped, but as the team got closer they started to spot features of a big cat.
As if it was instinct, the first question wasn’t who they were, or what they were doing but a “How did you get up there?” from Rasmus. “I jumped, grabbed onto the edge, and hauled myself up. It’s like getting out of the pool back home, just with less water.” As it turned out after some more communication, the humanoid leopard’s name was Scott, and he was there to look at other cars and teams. “Well, we’ll have to find another way” said Rasmus.
Minutes of looking for a ladder or any other to get up ensued. Uncle managed to get himself up there with the opposite of grace where the ground was a bit higher, and carefully walked along the roof looking for structural support. “I guess you could use the car as stairs.” he said jokingly not expecting the idea to land that well.
Not long after the team brought the Cago. Rasmus went up there first, then came Andreas. When Martin got onto the bonnet, the quietness of the track was broken up by a bellow of a wild animal. Not the one you are expecting, it was Martin. “What have you done to the bloody roof man!” There was a visible dent after two grown men used it as stairs. “I think we shouldn’t do any more of this.” Martin was a bit calmer now as he climbed back down.
(this is already a bit too long, so tbc. Collab with @Madrias. Mentioned @Angelustyle and @0rangeGhost)
So. I have gone through all the car stats now (yes, there were some small rules violations that I have adjusted, because the more the merrier after all), so soon the race can start. Just so you know that this is not forgotten. 
So for people still wanting to do some pre-race RP, it is time to do it now.
I had planned to post this all earlier, so this takes place chronologically before the most recent RP postings, but I figured I’d share this before it’s absolutely too late:
Gothenburg, Sweden
Hans Gustavson flipped through a copy of Trafikjournalen while he sipped his coffee. He liked to think of it as doing research for his job. After all, he was the Vice President for Marketing of Constellation Motors of Sweden, and it was his responsibility to perform “market research,” wasn’t it? He flipped a page and came across a full page advertisement. Trafikjournalen was now accepting entrants for this year’s running of the 24 Hours of Clunkers. Interesting. He had always found that race fascinating.
“Should I enter?”, he thought. The thought was almost a surprise to himself. Sure, he still liked to get out on the track every now and then, but it had been ages since he’d actually entered a race, and thought his racing days were long behind him.
When he was a much younger man, he had driven professionally, including a few years driving for the Flint Motors team on the German Group A circuit back in the 80’s. Of course, there was a difference between being a professional and being a successful one, and after a thoroughly mediocre season (that he liked to blame on the dang American engineers designing a muscle car that could only go fast in a straight line), he used his connections from the racing team to transition into a job as a test driver for Constellation Motors–the European subsidiary of Flint Motors, which was headquartered–of course–in Flint, Michigan, USA.
Then had come a family, a move to a desk job, and all the responsibilities that had made it increasingly difficult to get out on the track with any kind of regularity, much less enter races. But he did have more time in schedule now that his youngest had moved out, he thought. And while he had to admit his reflexes weren’t as sharp as they once were, he had felt good the last time he had gotten out on the track.
Hans set aside the magazine, took another sip of his coffee, and turned toward his computer. He also liked to occasionally just browse used car listings, again in the name of “market research.” After all, he thought, it was good for him to know what old Constellations were selling for. And old Flints too, he thought. After all, while the American manufacturer had established Constellation specifically to create European-designed, European-built cars for European markets, Constellation also served as the distributor for the small trickle of American-made Flints that for whatever reason the Americans thought might appeal to European consumers.
As he scrolled through a page of listings, a price caught his eye. A very low price. What was it for? A 1995 Flint Sovereign Limited Coupe. Hmm. He didn’t see many of those cars on the market anymore, especially since they had never really sold much in the first place. The 1994 facelift of the Sovereign had been panned for poor handling and had drawn overblown accusations of using “junkyard engines” after the automotive press revealed that some of the production run was fitted with surplus engines from prior years while an engine factory was being re-tooled. Of course, there was nothing actually wrong with the engines, which had been carefully stored, quality-checked, and reconditioned as needed, but the so-called “scandal” had been hugely embarrassing for Flint. After all, the company’s motto was “Quality First.”
Well, some genius in Michigan had come up with the idea that to restore public confidence in the Sovereign and the Flint brand more broadly, the company would rush into production for 1995 a “sport coupe” with improved handling, an all-wheel drive system, and a new engine. Never mind that the Sovereign was a full-size behemoth. And while they were at it, the American execs had decided to launch it in European markets, forecasting that it would compete well with the likes of the BMW 8-series and the Mercedes-Benz CL. Those forecasts were optimistic, to say the least, and the plug was pulled on the coupe after just a few years on both sides of the Atlantic.
So, Hans thought, where had this survivor of this rare breed come from, and why was it so cheap?
He clicked on the listing, and pictures of the car came up. Oh…that was why it was so cheap. The car was a motley assortment of faded paint, rust, and cheap, weathered aftermarket plastic. One of the headlight covers was missing, a rear window was cracked, and the hood had obviously been replaced with a part from a different car that was a completely different color. Oh, and everything back of the rear seats appeared to have been torn out. And was that a tow ball on the back?
The listing read:
Selling a 1995 Flint Sovereign Limited Coupe for 5,000 krona or best offer. This car was included with a property I purchased, where it was stored in a shed. The realtor who sold me the place told me the prior owner of the property was an old man who hadn’t been able to drive for years, and his family didn’t want or need the car, so they were selling. I don’t know the last time it was run, but I put in a new battery, and it runs and drives. Rear seat is missing. Several exterior panels have obviously been replaced, and the paint is not in good condition. Odometer reads 473,841 km but doesn’t appear to be ticking over anymore. Tires probably need replacement. Might be a good car for a mechanic looking for something to work on.
Hans leaned back and ran his fingers through his gray hair. First, he’d seen the Trafikjournalen ad for the 24 Hours of Clunkers. Then, he’d seen this listing. It felt like a sign. 5,000 krona. That was under the 24 Hours of Clunkers budget limit. He looked back at the listing for the seller’s telephone number and started dialing. “Hello,” he said. “I saw your listing for a Flint Sovereign, and I’d like to buy it…”
Hull, England, U.K.
A few days later, Samantha Prescott was intently focused on 3D-modeling a glovebox release mechanism at her desk in the engineering department of Constellation Motors headquarters when the phone rang. She glanced over at the caller ID, smiled to herself, and picked up.
“Hans,” she said, “to what do I owe the honor of this call? Unless you’re calling with thoughts on Swedish market preferences for whether a glovebox should close with a ‘click’ or a ‘clunk,’ I’m afraid there’s not much I can probably do for you at the moment.”
Hans chuckled. Sam was a low-ranking engineer more than 30 years his junior, and for solely business purposes, there was absolutely no reason for the Vice President of Marketing for Sweden to be having a morning chat with someone in Sam’s position. But Sam and Hans had struck up an unlikely friendship a few years ago at a corporate retreat after he introduced himself to her after being impressed by her driving at a track day event t. After that, conversation turned to what they discovered to be a shared love of racing, and they had kept in touch since.
“No, Sam, I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about Swedish market preferences. Although personally, I think I’m more of a ‘clunk’ person. Anyway, Sam, are you still racing on weekends?”
“Every chance I get, Hans. You know there’s nothing I love more than racing!”
Sam was an avid amateur racer who had been racing anything with a motor that she could since she was a child.
“Hmm…are you sure about that, Sam? I thought what you really loved was winning. What was it you said to me once…something about you’d rather crash than lose?”
Now it was Sam’s turn to chuckle. “I believe it was that I would rather crash trying to win than play it safe just trying to not lose. After all, who cares about your ability to rack up a bunch of mid-pack finishes?”
“Yes, Sam, but there’s always a balance. Take the opportunities that present themselves on the track, but don’t force them!”
“Did you really call me this morning just to give me a lecture about what you call being ‘too aggressive’ on the track?”
Hans scoffed. “What, me? Lecture? Of course not! I was actually calling because I want you to race with me.”
“With you?” Sam replied. “Where?”
“Have you ever heard of the 24 Hours of Clunkers?”
“Say no more. Count me in. Is this an official company thing?”
“No, I don’t think the company would want us representing them by driving a beat-up old Sovereign that very well might blow up on us.”
“A Sovereign, you said? You already have the car?”
“Yes, I bought it on the weekend. Changed all the fluids and drove it all the way home. Can’t say there aren’t some odd sounds and smells from the engine at times, but it runs pretty good all things considered.”
“And what are ‘all things’?”
“Well, sat in a shed for a few years not being run. And the seller has no idea about the service history since the car apparently came with a property he bought. Not to mention that the body panels look like they’re from about 3 different cars.”
Sam shrugged. “Well, I guess they call it the 24 Hours of Clunkers for a reason. What year did you say?”
“I don’t know if I did, but it’s a 95. Sport Coupe.”
“No! You’ve got to be kidding me. A sport coupe? I thought they only ever sold, like, five of those.”
“Mmm, that might be too generous of an estimate. But yes. A sport coupe!”
“Well, then, I suppose you can count me in. After all, who could pass up a chance to race in a 30-year-old bucket of bolts that might possibly fall apart or blow up any minute?”
Hans chuckled. “That’s the spirit! So, we still need at least one more driver. Do you know anybody who might be interested? Maybe somebody you race with on the weekend?”
“Let me think.” Sam looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then gasped with a flash of realization. “Oh, I have the perfect person for this!”
Flint, Michigan, U.S.A.
Hank Richmond was standing under a car lift, wrench in hand, when his phone rang. He set the wrench down, grabbed a towel to wipe his greasy hands, and fished his phone from his pocket. He looked at the name on the screen and frowned in confusion. Samantha Prescott. Why was she calling at this hour?
“Sam? What time is it where you are? It’s gotta be, what, 2 am or something? Is everything OK?”
“Yes, Hank,” said Samantha Prescott. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m having visions of glovebox latch schematics run through my head every time I lie down. Speaking of which, before I forget, do you like a glovebox that closes with more of a ‘click’ or more of a ‘clunk’?.”
“Well, my primary concern would be to make sure that the latch remains closed in the event of a serious collision so that the glovebox’s contents don’t become dangerous projectiles in the passenger cabin.”
Sam chuckled. Of course that was the answer she should have expected from one of the company’s most senior safety engineers. She recalled the first time Hank had been tasked with reviewing her team’s work and had found fault with things Sam didn’t even think you could have an opinion on. A headrest failed to extend high enough to provide protection to the small percentage of occupants who were 2 meters tall. A headliner was too thin to provide protection against neck injury in a rollover. She had actually hated Hank while he was just a name associated with nit-picky comments on a page. That had changed when she had met him on a trip to headquarters in Flint a few years ago, and she had found that he was not just meticulous about safety but was also warm, compassionate, and happy to share wisdom with a junior engineer. She had considered him a mentor ever since.
“Don’t worry, Hank,” Sam said, “I’ve learned my lesson with these sorts of things, and I’ve run those calculations.”
“Good, glad to see you’re learning. In that case, I guess I”d say I’m a solid ‘clunk’ kind of guy. But is that really what you called me at 2 am to talk about?”
“No, actually. Have you ever heard of the 24 Hours of Clunkers?”
“The 24 Hours of what?”
“Clunkers. LIke junky old cars.”
“Yeah, I know what a clunker is, but what are you talking about?”
“It’s a race put on every year by a car magazine in Sweden. Teams enter old, junky, cheap cars and see if they can make it all 24 hours.”
“OK…and why are you calling me about this in the middle of the night?”
“I want you to join my team.”
“Your team? What team? You’re entering this clunkers race?”
“Yes. Right now it’s me and Hans. He’s a former race car driver and works for Constellation too. He came up with the idea. And look, I know you like racing your restored cars, so I thought this would be perfect for you!”
Hank frowned. “I don’t know how much of a racer I’d really say that I am. I mean, I like getting my cars out there and putting them through their paces, but that’s just for the fun of it. There has to be someone better you can find.”
“Did I mention that Hans already found us a car?”
“No. But why would it matter what hunk of junk you’re driving?”
“Hank. It’s a sport coupe. A Sovereign sport coupe. ‘95 model.” Sam couldn’t stop herself from grinning. She knew she had Hank now.
“A ‘95 Sovereign, huh? You know, that generation was the first project I worked on when I joined the company.”
Sam did, in fact, know this, since Hank had told her at length about it before.
“Really, was it?” Sam said, smiling to herself.
“Yep. I was on the team responsible for determining the number, location, and sensitivity for the front airbag sensors. It was a big deal at the time that we were going with dual frontal airbags. I’m proud to say that not once did we get sued over the airbag design in that Sovereign.”
“Is that the sort of thing people sue about?”
“Oh sure,” Hank went on. “There have been all kinds of lawsuits over airbag designs, especially some of those ‘90s designs. Claims that the airbags caused injuries because they went off when they shouldn’t have. Or that they didn’t go off when they should have. Or that they went off with too much force and actually caused injuries. That’s why I always say–”
“I know, I know,” Sam cut in. “There’s no such thing as an insignificant part.” How many times had she heard Hank say that before when she was lamenting being stuck with designing what seemed like some completely trivial subcomponent?
“That’s right. Take that glovebox you’re working on. Not just from a safety perspective, but how many times have you read a car review that says something like, ‘Storage space in the cabin is generous and easily accessible’ or says something like, ‘The interior components feel cheap and flimsy’? You can have millions of R&D into a car, dozens of engineers, and a real technological marvel, but all the things that work without a problem aren’t going to get a mention. But have a storage bin that’s hard to access? I bet you 9 times out of 10 that’s going to pop up in a review of that car.”
Sam sighed. “I know, Hank. It’s just that, you know, I didn’t exactly get into automotive design just so I could be up at 2 am having visions of glovebox latches.”
“Patience, Sam, patience. Just stay focused on doing good work, and soon enough you’ll get more responsibility.”
“Auggh, I know! But you and I both know that patience is not something that comes to me naturally!”
Hank chuckled, “True, true.”
There was a pause.
“So,” said Sam. “About the race…”
“Right,” said Hank. “Do we get to fix up the car first?”
“Well, there’s a very limited budget for repairs. I think Hans already spent most of it on new tires. It’s more of an exercise in keeping it together with duct tape than fixing it up.”
“And what kind of condition is it in?”
“Well…it’s sat in a shed for a few years and appears to have been used as a farm vehicle before that. Someone tore out the rear seats and slapped a tow ball on the rear.”
“Huh, sounds like a challenge. I like a good challenge. And to do it with a ‘95 Sovereign. You know I love those cars.”
“I know, Hank.” Hank on one occasion had waxed on about how the model’s futuristic design had been woefully underappreciated in its day. There was a reason why Sam had told Hans that she had the “perfect” person for their team.
There was another pause.
“Well, send me the details, and I’ll think about it.”
“Great! I’m looking forward to seeing you in Sweden!”
“No, Sam, I’m not–”
“Trust me Hank, you’re going to love it! I’m so glad you joined our team! Goodnight, Hank!”
“No, Sam,” Hank started, but he realized that the line had gone dead. He grinned and shook his head. That was Sam for you.
Hank put his phone in his pocket, cleaned up his tools, and walked into his house.
“Honey,” he said, “How would you feel if I took a trip to Sweden?”
Part 3: The Nilferts being the Nilferts…
*in cooperation with @Elizipeazie, @Knugcab (Team Trafikjournalen), @nicxv (Speed Freaks), @Madrias (Highway Hooligans) and @Angelustyle (YEAR)
Chanty spotted Angel, and ran towards him from behind, and made a weird jump-hug - and Angel, being as small as Chanty but much lighter, had no chance and fell to the ground
“AH! HELP”
“Oh… sorry… I was just so excited”
“Oh, it`s you? It´s fine.”
Both celebrated their reunification with an intense hug, and Thomas and Jan smiled a bit, because Chanty seems a lot better than at Shitbox Rallye, mainly because this isn´t so far away, she can keep contact with her mother, and also she isn´t so long away from home.
“We follow them?”
“No, Jan… let her focus on the Firu… eeh,…”
“Y.E.A.R.”
“Yes, that Yumotomomoto…eh, unspellable thing. We are already invited at the Hooligans.”
“Thomas, you invited yourself because they have beer.”
“I AM INVITED. It doesn´t matter by whom. Follow me. I don´t think you`ll have fun if you always do your own thing like in Holsia, so give me company. We must make use of the fact that Chantal is able to get along with herself at the moment, and let her be free of supervision. OH, what is that? An ARVA Kondor!”
“Why do old people ask questions just to answer them then in the same sentence? This is so weird!”
“Jan… get yourself a beer to ease up, I will follow soon, I just want to take a look at that Arva.”
Thomas stepped to the car, pushed against the roof to see how worn the shock absorbers are, kicked against the tire wall to check the pressure, and other typical moves of an old mechanic, which the Team Trafikjournalen of course noticed.
Erik Carlén looked over at the tire kicking german geezer.
“You’re interested in buying this piece of shit? Give me the contents of a beach ball and it is yours. You can keep the actual beach ball, just give me the air…”
“Stop that bullshit”,
Hansen replied.
“It is good as new…almost.”
“If something is as good as a new ARVA Kondor it will never even be close to good”
, was the cynical answer Carlén gave Hansen.
“Hm, if I didn´t have like 50 cars in my yard, it would be tempting, but I guess not much of it will be left by the end of the race”
“Does it look like if there is much left of it now?”,
Carlén answered.
“What is even tempting with this one?”.
“Eh. Some small adjustment and it will be fine for 24 hours. But I am actually leaning towards agreeing with our potential buyer.”
, Hansen said with a sigh.
“I know these cars, weren´t they introduced in the early 80s?”
“Hmm, yes, 1982”
, Carlén said.
“At least it was said so officially, who knows if the first year models were some kind of Potemkin cars made out of fiberboard or something”
, Hansen laughed.
“This is a 1989, last year before the first facelift”
, Hansen continued.
“I used to run away from those in 1982 when they were painted black, and I can confirm they were crappy, since… one lost its rear axle when chasing me over a sidewalk.”
Carlén and Hansen went quiet at the same time. Hearing the german accent of the guy, and…
“I…understand”
, Carlén said quietly.
“I…very much understand”
, Hansen answered.
“Uh…yes. And…I guess if our third member was here…he would not get the reference.”
, Carlén stuttered with his speech.
“Nah. Probably not.”
“Now that the threat is gone, I have lost my hate against them. Funny, I was afraid to sit in them before but now that I can sit in the backseat without fear, they were stripped out. Bad luck, haha!”
“It smelled like manure anyway”
, Hansen said.
“The backseat of my police cruiser was full of… bulletholes, blood, sweat, urine …and donut crumbles…”
“Ah. You’re the one that brought the Globus in here?”
, Carlén asked.
“Bet it will be like driving an oil tanker through a creek. Not that this behemoth is much better…”
“Well, my son-in-law almost died last year in a compact car, and… my daughter would be heartbroken if that happened this year for real, so I wanted to play it safe there. The Grand Cruiser is really able to take some beating, but yes, it really doesn´t want to turn, and it´s not as fast in a straight as it should be, but that was the only one in the shitbox budget. I hate cheating, so I didn´t invest a lot in spare parts.”
“Ah. That blue thing that got…flat?”
, Hansen asked.
“Well, it was a bit over the top last year one must say. Some cars less this year so should be a bit more space on the track, but…that exocage shitbox…nah, I am not sure what to think about that I guess. Have you seen it?”
“No, it was green, my daughter called it Kermit… her new car is blue, it´s called Sonic, like the SEGA hedgehog. Well, she misses kermit and even tatooed the VIN on herself… and the Corsa, well, these things are quite tough mechanically. I am just not sure if that exocage will be backfiring if its bent against the ground or such, and it can also be quite dangerous if it breaks… I don´t want to be impaled. Is that even within the rules?”
“Ah. For some weird reason I remember green things as blue, and vice versa, sometimes”
, Hansen said.
“Probably your head took some hit in some previous 24h race”
, Carlén told him,
“The same hit that made you buy this rolling shitshow”.
“Within the rules and within the rules”
, Hansen said.
“To me it feels like an abuse of the old saying that what’s not outright banned will technically be allowed”.
“So, your car looks like you need a lot of beer to make it look roadworthy, so, you have some in spare? I am running a bit low on fuel there… I mean, I have a blue-haired daughter, I guess I don´t need to explain why my beers are draining as if your Kondor engine uses it…”
“Nope, no luck here”
, Hansen said.
“And if I spot any drunk driving I will make sure that the punishment is to have the butt sewn together with the drivers seat in a beige 1994 Mara Zora”
, Hansen answered with more than a grain of salt.
“Oh, don´t worry, I won´t drive soon, so I use the opportunity… anyway, I guess the Hooligans are a good fuel station then. It was nice to have a chatter with you, good luck then and, most important, no serious accidents.”
“That freakshow is good for anything you have no use for in a race, I guess. Have fun!”
, Carlén answered.
Thomas gave all three a polite handshake, and headed to the Hooligans.
“THOMAS, YOU LEAKING WHISKY BARREL!”
“Ah, Trevor, the weird drunkard. You look as shit as ever!”
“Yes, on purpose! I don´t want you to feel shit when standing next to me with that ugly ass face. Join us, we have…”
“Beer! Two please!.. eh, DON´T GIVE IT JAN! I WANTED BOTH. I need a counterbalance at the other side.”
“At your age, I might suggest a walker to keep balance.”
“Guys, why do have old men always have to insult each other?”
“Oh, if you call that already insulting… you shouldn´t be around when I am insulting for real”
answered Cody, but with a warm laughter.
“Where is your fa…, eeeh… fluffy daughter?”
“With the… eh… Yumototo… eh…”
“I see, the Firu…”
“NO, TREVOR! JUST SAY YEAR LIKE ALL SANE PEOPLE DO. Dear god, guys, is it that hard?”
“Jan, you punkrock Prince Charming from Wish… get a beer and relax. So, is your walking blue flag doing ok?”
“Yes, she is getting more and more used to work in the garage with me and notices herself now that she is of real help and actually does something for her money… I think it will build up confidence, but she still thinks of herself that she is the worst person on earth…”
“That can´t be true Thomas, at least not as long as Cody is alive…”
“YEAH, FUCK YOU TOO, TREVOR!”
“So, we have a taxi and you have a cop car, some matching fullsize junk then”
“Yes, Jake, I made a bargain and felt like it´s solid enough in this demolition derby.”
“Isn´t it overpowered? The top-level police spec has over 300 horses.”
“Nah, one cylinder bank is constantly switching on and off, it misfires, and some other goofs… It`s still fast, but the dyno results said it´s so worn down that it´s approved…”
“Ah yes, Globus, they are even troublesome in the brochure.”
“Thats a prejudgement, Trevor!”
“It isnt. I cut my finger on the paper of such a brochure.”
“Yes, because of the sharp design of the cars.”
The Hooligans laughed hard and spilled some beer.
“Thomas, give me your bottle, whatever you drink, I want that shit, too!”
The next moring, Chantals usually morning stretching caused a bit of problems in the camping trailer, that is suitable for two persons, but a bit small for three…
“NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWW”
“ARGH! YOU HIT ME!”
<“Sorry dad… but… I need my space!”
“YOU NEED A LOT MORE THAN THAT, CHANTAL! ARGH! I will make us some coffee.”
“Oh, a good idea. Some fried eggs, too?”
“That… won´t be enough… I am really super hungry. I think I will drive to McDonalds.”
“Eh, Chantal, HAVE YOU LOOKED OUTSIDE? DOES THIS LOOK LIKE THERE IS ANY MC DONALDS IN THIS NO MANS LAND?”
“THOMAS! Not that loud this early!”
“BUT WHERE DO I GET FOOD NOW?”
“CAN YOU TWO BE LESS LOUD? DAMN! I will make some fried eggs and bacon now. Chanty, you might ask the Team Trafikjournalen, because they might know the area…”
“BAAAH! That coffee is cold! Yeah, I will just get ready and then get some food.”
Chanty spots the Team Trafikjournalen, as Thomas described the Trafikjournalen Team good enough. She braked a bit too late, and tried to put the Imperator into reverse, but the wobbly gear selector made her end up in N without noticing, and when the car didn´t move, she intentionally revved up the Diesel that covered the team in a stinky black diesel smoke cloud, as the engine was still cold.
“Ah crap, these old cars are really weird to operate, but at least they look cool. Now I am in reverse! But… I can´t see out of the window, crap.”
“At least something smokes worse than your Sanju car transporter truck”
, Carlén said to Hansen with a laugh.
“What the fuck IS this freakshow?”
, Hansen sighed.
Chanty exits the car that rolled now against the Kondor, but no serious damage seems to have happened.
“Sorry, I rarely use automatics, aaaargh!”
“Watch the paintjob!”
, Hansen said to Chanty with a cynical tone.
Chanty went to the backseat, got nail polish out of her bag and painted the little scratch on the Arva in a more or less matching color, then looked at the scratched chrome of the Primus bumper, and started to cry, but thankfully did not lose it completely in front of the strangers.
“OH NO! I am dead when my father sees this…”
From nowhere, it seems like, Filip Andersson appeared, looking at Chanty with a blushing face.
“Ehh…ehehe…ehm…NAH YOU KNOW THIS IS AN EASY…HEHEHE…FIX…Ehehehhehehmmm…”
, he stuttered, quickly went into Hansen’s Sanju LD40 getting some rags and polish, smearing it with a questionable result over the scratch on the Primus bumper.
“Ehh…ehe…he.eh…hardly…noticeable!”
“At least wipe it all off, Romeo”
, Hansen sighed, and got a dirty rag thrown at him.
“THANKS A LOT! YOU SAVED MY LIFE”
said Chanty and hugged Filip out of excitement and gave him a cheek kiss.
“Anyway, guys, you are locals, correct?”
“MMMBBBHHHHHH”
, Andersson tried to answer, probably not even knowing the meaning behind it himself.
“Nah, not really”
, Carlén said.
“Just going here for this thing every year, and some motorsports reports every now and then…”
“But… do you know a good place to get something to eat now?”
“YES, YES, I DO, I DO”
, Andersson stuttered nervously, taking some sandwiches out of the Sanju, giving them to Chanty.
“TAKE THEM ALL, BON APPETIT!”
“You gave away my sandwiches?”
, Hansen asked him,
“You’re a special kind of stupid, aren’t you?”
Chanty ate all at once and didnt hear the last sentence…
“MMMH! MJAM!.. I meant, warm food or such, I… well… I mean, I am fat, and … well…”
A few bitter tears showed up.
“But thanks again!”
, said Chanty, giving Filip another firm hug.
“I guess you won’t get any answer worth listening to from that idiot there”
, Hansen told Chanty.
“He isn´t an idiot! He gave me food… and, do you have a better answer?”
Someone from the background yelled “EH SMURF! Tiltäppta Aträrer is your destination! At the exit left, and then like 30 kilometers… eh just use the maps app!”
“Yes I have a better answer. That he indeed is an idiot. Or do like someone just yelled, I am busy with getting this shitbox to work now.”
“You are as grumpy as my dad, really. You would get along well!”
Chanty then turned to Filip, gave him another hug
“But you are nice!”
With noticeable diesel clatter, Chanty moved to the exit, and heard Kanna and Catherine begging Angel to get food, but they could not find the keys for the van. As only Maria speaks a bit German, the communication with some smartphone translators was a bit…rough, but worked.
Chanty: “Hey, sweeties! I am driving to some town to get food anyway…”
Kanna: “OH!”
In exact the same moment, Kanna already pulled full of excitement at the door handle, and… ripped it off.
Catherine: “Aren´t Primus supposed to be well-built, especially the large ones? This is a quite massive part, I thought it wouldn´t break with some pull…”
Angel: “OH NO! Thomas will kill us!”
Hou: “Primus are massively overrated in my opinion. But I can fix that with ease. Nobody will notice. I guess that´s just material fatigue after… how old is that car?”
Chanty: “Eh… old, I guess?”
Angel: “Thats a 1980 to, maybe 84 or 85 Imperator… Chanty, do you have the papers? We can look that up.”
Chanty: “My father has them there in the sunvisor… Here.”
Angel: “Oh, a 1982 Imperator 270D. Thankfully, the load capacity is generous, according to the papers.”
Kanna: “Why did you check that?”
Angel was visibly embarassed how to … explain the problem.
Angel: “Well, it´s not that Catherine and you are light, and neither is Chanty… so… eh…”
Chantal: “I KNOW I AM FAT!”
Angel: “I knew I should have kept my mouth shut…”
Hou: “Ground clearance still seems fine…Hm, maybe these Primus are not as crappy as I thought. On the other hand, the first owners of these things were barely… soft both in mindset and appearance and the engineers must have thought of that.”
Loaded with Chanty, Kanna, Catherine and Angel, the underpowered luxury car visibly struggled to get into movement.
Catherine: “Seems more that the fuel-crisis-mess of an engine is the limiting factor here. Chanty, accellerate!”
Chanty: “What do you think am I doing here?”
With a black smoke cloud and the five cylinder screaming for help, the car finally made it to the road and disappeared, leaving behind some stench. This was also watched by the Speed Freaks.
Mikko: “Hah! No need to install a lower suspension, with that fat asses on board!”
Daniel: “Why do have fat chicks always such slim boyfriends? The german budget rocker and that one-eyed jap are both one third of their hogs.”
Mikko: “I guess these losers were rejected by all the good-looking girls, they have to take what´s left.”
With Daniel imitating pig noises, Mikko smiled.
“They´re propably getting food. With all that weight in the cars, that´s good for competition, because they are slowed down to zero. That old lemon could barely get to country road speed, ahahahahaha! The victory is mine!”
Samuel, being the most mature of the trio, also smiled a bit, but didn´t feel like fueling his teammates with more mean comments - he was in first place there to race and win, not to make fun of others.
Meanwhile, in the Imperator, Catherine felt at home.
Catherine: “Finally a car where I fit well. That´s definitely too large for Japan, otherwise I would buy this off Thomas´hands. Super comfortable seats.”
Kanna: “I can confrim. But where are we heading to?”
Chanty: "The local team told me to visit … eh, what does Maps say… ah, “tiltäppta aträrer”, its a 24/7 fast food restaurant.
Kannas eyes looked at Chanty with a love that only a dog could have for its owner.
Angel: “Good that we have Chantals taxi service. My foot still hurts a bit.”
Catherine: “Why have you stopped me from hitting that bastard?”
Chanty: “What bastard?”
Catherine: “Mikko. He stepped on Angels foot on purpose to make our best driver handicapped.”
Chanty: “WHAT? THAT ASSHOLE! I will punch him in his ugly face but I am afraid that this will make him less ugly then.”
Angel: “Ahahaha! I really like it when you have confidence and fighting spirit, but it´s propably better to not cause problems here.”
Kanna: “Didn´t you tell me that Chanty changed Ana for the better? Maybe that happens with Mikko, too?”
Catherine: “NO WAY! I don´t know Ana too well, but I think that all hope is lost with that Finnish brat.”
Angel: “Yes, I am afraid you are right, honey bunny. But please, Chanty, take care and don´t put yourself in danger. I am fine.”
Chanty: “I just can´t accept that you want him to get away with it.”
Catherine, in the passenger seat, leaned towards Chanty and gently tapped her shoulder.
Catherine: “I am grateful that you are such a good friend to Angel. When you punch that asshole, let me give you company, I don´t want you do that without backup.”
Chanty, Angel, Kanna and Catherine entered the restaurant with an impressive selection of XXXXXL food portions. To their surprise, Valentin sat on a table, eating a giant bowl of MacnCheese.
Chantal: “VALENTIN?”
Valentin somewhat hastily looked around as someone had called out his name. Finding the one who did the shouting was not hard while looking for the most unique person in the empty restaurant. He waves at the group entering before returning to his food for the time being.
Chanty took a seat, while the others, not too familiar with Valentin, were a bit hesitating to take any action, and the chair made a weird noise, and Chanty made a very sad face.
Chanty: “Maybe I should not eat anything, I am too fat already…”
Vito, Valentins integrated AI, started translating automatically. Chantal explained hastily when the Y.E.A.R. team members made an astonished face.
Chanty: “He has a translator… that´s super cool!”
Catherine: “Oh how useful! And it´s not your fault, you are perfect the way you are. You could expect from an
XXL-Restaurant that they have chairs fitting their ususal customers…”
Angel: “Maybe it´s a bit worn down from them already.”
Kanna: "Not my fault, I am here for the first time!
Chanty: “How are your maccaroni? I really can´t decide what to eat… IT ALL SOUNDS SO DELICIOUS, FUUUUUUUUCK!”
The server and the 3 other guests now stared at Chanty who raised a voice a bit too much.
Chanty: “ooops… sorry… I … well, I am hungry… and… when I am hungry, I am a bit weird…”
Random guest in swedish: “YOU ARE NOT JUST WEIRD WHEN HUNGRY WITH THAT HAIR COLOR!”
Chanty: “Valentin, can you translate?”
Vito does the honors before Valentin has a chance to counter it, repeating the guest’s comment in German.
Valentin, meanwhile, tries to defuse:
[to that guest, in Swedish] “Would appreciate you minding your own business, thank you.”
[to himself] “Vito, not yet.”
[to Chanty, in English] “I get the excitement, though please try and keep somewhat quiet to not disturb others here.”
[again himself] “Now.”
Vito repeated both comments in German, clarifying who each of them were directed at. The enquiry regarding how good the Maccaroni was is ignored in favor of trying to keep peace within the establishment.
The group ordered their food, and Kanna and Chanty were visibly nervous until it finally arrived. Everything went well, until Chanty thought… “Hmm, Kannas chicken looks really nice, I might try a bit…” Chanty took the fork and stole a bit of it, and Kanna immediately hit Chanty full force with her ellbow, who crashed on the ground together with her chair.
Chantal: “AAAAH! What was that?”
Kanna: "OH NO! CHANTY! I AM SO SORRY! IT WAS A REFLEX! I AM A BIT WEIRD WITH FOOD, IT WAS NOT MY INTENTION! CHAAAANTY, SAY SOMETHING!
Chantal: “It… hurts a bit… but not too much. I am fine.”
Kanna: “I AM REALLY SORRY AGAIN… Here, have the rest of my plate as apology. It really was a reflex because I am protective over my food.”
Catherine: “What rest? You eat like a vaccumn cleaner.”
Angel: “I do not think that you are in the position to say this, honey bunny.”
Valentin, who absolutely hates unwanted attention, somewhat embarrassed himself, the only noticeable thing that came out of him during this commotion is him asking whether Chantal was okay.
The Y.E.A.R trio helped Chanty up and ordered Chanty the same meal that Kanna got before, while Kanna ordered herself what Chanty had before, a giant Pizza Tonno.
Kanna: “Yor lip is a bit bleeding”
Chanty: "Oh, don´t worry, you were really gentle compared to Marie.
Angel: “Oh no, don´t remind me of that!”
Suddenly Chantys phone rang.
Chanty: “Eh… HOW? Ah. Yes, I bring that. WAITER, SORRY TO BOTHER YOU BUT ITS IMPORTANT!”
Catherine: “What happened?”
Chanty: “That was Jan. Some Hooligan came over, attrated by the food smell, and raided their breakfast. Now Jan and dad want to bring me something for them…”
Kanna: “I dont mind ordering something additional too, for the way back, I mean, we drive like 20 minutes or so, that´s enough for another Pizza.”
Chorus: “KANNAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
Valentin was making a relieved sigh when the weird quartet was about to leave, finally minding his own business in peace again.
Kanna: “Oh, Chanty, these fries look delicious…”
Chorus: “KANNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
Kanna: “But it´s my birthday!”
Chantal: “Eeeeh… and one large fries extra…”
Cashier: “Are you paying card or cash?”
Chantal: “Kidney…”
OK, I have an announcement to make…
The results will unfortunately be delayed even more.
The reason? I forgot the entry from @tailgate_sniffer . The reason is that it was posted in this thread and not in a DM, probably Tailgate sniffer didn’t have the DM rights.
And that’s it. I realize that you can’t post a challenge this big and have people posting car files wherever it fits for them.
Next year it will be Discord, DM or nothing. No DM rights here? Well, participate in some games on the forums, comment on some posts in sharing…it really isn’t that hard to get them.
I am sorry if I sound like an ass now, but hosting is in many ways a struggle, and I really don’t want this to happen again. No matter how special YOU think your entry are and that I should have remembered it, among 20-ish cars…it simply won’t happen.
The fault this time is only mine. If I sound salty, I am only explaining why it is like it is…
EDIT: Turns out we’re extremely lucky, there were no crashes for the Phoenix, meaning that implementing it afterwards was a quick job.
PART 1: NOON - 4 PM
Hello everyone, and welcome to the 2024 edition of Trafikjournalen’s 24 h of clunkers!
At the start ,it seemed to not be the brightest idea by Clara Danver in the Astral to dump the clutch, since the heavy amounts of wheelspin at the start did cost her a lot of time, with the Astral suddenly being one of the last cars off the starting line. Even the Mishuto does a somewhat slow start, as well as the Flint, but not as bad as the Astral. The Cutter on the other hand barely makes it from the finish line until it goes straight into the guardrail with a loud bang. Someone that seems to be hot headed now is Jeremias Klackers in the Mara that does some very nice laps. More careful is Jake Storm in the Bricksley, Cthulhu James in the DAW and Mary Marcel in the Brunelle, drivers that seems to be taking it easy at the moment.
The WAZ is now almost taking one of the corners tail first, but Ivan Kovalev manages to save the situation. In an attempt to avoid the skidding WAZ, Jake Storm in the Bricksley gets a tail spin that ends up in some guardrail bouncing. To avoid getting into the mess, Akseli Vanhala in the Sedlak has to brake rather hard. Cthulhu James in the DAW does some attempt to pass the Sedlak but that ends up bouncing against the guardrail instead. The Phoenix has to brake to avoid the bouncing DAW.
The Sedlak now understeers into a corner, just to suddenly switch to oversteering again, and Akseli Vanhala gets his hands full. That also causes the DAW to have to slow down. Jeff Stone in the Cutter does an attempt to pass the DAW and the Sedlak, but that ends up in a spinout. The Phoenix avoids getting into trouble there, barely.
The Astral now rams the Sedlak from behind, causing it to spin out, it’s a rather nasty bang but it seems like the cars aren’t more damaged than being able to keep driving after all. The Torrento barely escapes to getting involved in that tangle. The Brunelle brakes hard for the same reason, but it seems like it is not pulling straight, and Mary Marcel gets her hands full trying to sort that out. Edward in the VerBanka spots the chaos in time and slows down to pass through the mess carefully. It is said that Jan Kellermann in the Globus is not the most experienced driver, which might explain the hard time he has with wrestling the boat around the track at the moment. That seems to slow down the Phoenix where the driver probably wants to pass, but can’t find the space for it. It also seems to be slightly annoying for the driver of the Cutter, that tries to pass but has a hard time to keeping the car under control during that.
The Astral does a wide drift through a corner, almost getting the Vortex into a tangle. That also slows down the Torrento. The Cago is less lucky entering the corner, and has to munch some guardrail, which means that the Phoenix has to brake. After it comes the Ishii where the driver seems to overestimate its capacity, leading to a wide skid but still kept under control.
Something we notice is that the Mara is now, with Jens Mai driving, having a slightly slower pace around the track. The Flint now hits the ARVA, sending it spinning, and both cars ends up looking rather sad, but can still continue the race. The Cutter has to swerve to avoid the spinning ARVA, as well as the Torrento. The track being a bit cluttered around there means that the WAZ has to slow down a bit. Mary Marcel enters a corner a bit too fast with the Brunelle, spinning around but managing to get the car back into control.
The somewhat tricky handling of the Sedlak starts to show, the unpredictable switching between understeering and oversteering once again gives Akseli Vanhala some trouble. The ARVA then gives the Torrento a little shunt, though nothing that seems to be too serious. The Mara and Cutter passes them with spinning wheels, making them lose some time. It also seems like it takes some time for V2 to get the wheelspin under control when taking away with the Torrento again. The Bricksley scrapes the guardrail slightly. Less “slightly” so for the Brunelle that hits it with a loud thud, and bounces back into the track. The next car to brush it is the Qua, sending some cosmetic parts flying, but nothing worse than that.
The Globus then gives the Astral a little tap, and surprisingly enough the cosmetical damage seems worse on the Globus than on the lighter Astral, maybe due to the angle of the hit, but both cars can continue driving. Sure, we don’t know what happened under the surface of the Astral… Akseli Vanhala tries to out-accelerate the Astral that’s being sent towards the Sedlak, he manages to do it, barely, with the car skidding around on the track. It seems like Clara Danver was a bit shaken because of the situation, and takes it easy on the track for a while. Maybe a bit TOO easy, Erik Carlén thinks, trying to pass the Astral, with his ARVA in a very wide skid. The Torrento has been in for refuelling, leaving the pits like a maniac with spinning wheels, almost hitting the Cutter on its way out. After it comes the Bricksley, that also has been in for refuelling, and despite being a bit more careful, after barely missing the Ishii, it hits the Qua on its way out. A quite heavy hit, but nothing that seems to have affected the cars too much. They can keep driving after a while.
We are now four hours into the race, and the standings are as following:
So. New for this year: If you have any special ideas for the strategy of your team, something you want them to do for the next four hours, something like that, you have until tuesday 5 PM CEST to DM me about that. I might have that in mind, but I can’t promise that you will get your will through. I was just thinking, being a bit more able to do active choices with the RPing could make it a bit more fun. And yes, I might even take stuff you RP about in this thread into consideration, so think about what you write… 
And yes. I will implement my own pre-race RP at some point too. I just felt that getting the results for the first four hours should have priority now. Sorry.
Team Vet Inte - Race Part 1
“Looks fine to me.” The Cago was on a lift with Martin checking for any suspension damage after the car hit a barrier. “Well, something still feels off” said Uncle from the now only seat in the car. “I don’t know, I think I can handle it. I’ll stay out until it gets worse. Or until I can’t anymore. This thing is exhausting.”
The car was dropped back on the ground, and Andreas brought a few fuel cans. “Do you think you can finish the rest of your stint without stopping?” asked Rasmus, while Andreas struggled to take the fuel cap off. “I will try.” asnwered Uncle, while Jonathan aggressively took the refueling job away from Andreas to do it himself, despite being told to rest. The car left the pit shortly after.
i think some collage of car photos and their names and drivers would be nice to have, so people could visualize what’s happening and who is who a little better. it’s a bit hard to find what car is what, especially when there is 100 messages full of text and pictures.
Point taken, may implement that for next round.
4 hours into the race, and a provisional 3rd place. A truely wonderful race it has been for the Turbo Terrors in the Vortex. The strategy for now: try to close the gap to the leaders and if that isn’t possible, well we’ll block everyone behind. And if it is possible to put 2 drivers at the same time, put Frederickson in the car toghether with Johansson together in it (Quick driver + Co-Driver).
Captain slow< 
Yes, I saw the reference, lol.
Jake grips the wheel at the starting line, feeling the shuddering of the Bricksley’s 206 cubic inch, five-cylinder engine. With his left foot holding down the edge of the brake pedal, he drops the car into low gear, then presses on the gas. The car lurches, tensing up against the brakes as the torque converter hits stall speed, waiting for the flag to drop. No sooner had they gotten the green flag, Jake dumps the brakes and buries the throttle. 200 horsepower stampedes out of the engine and to the rear tires… Where the “limited slip” (open differential) proceeds to dump it all through the passenger side rear tire in an Australian-inspired smokey burnout launch. A drop back to “drive” settles the car - barely - and the race begins. After a handful of laps, Jake finds a steady open space in the pack and stays in it, just trying not to play car pinball even if the others around him were less worried about their odds of finishing the event.
A half hour later, the WAZ loses the back end and spins on the track, looping the car out in front of Jake. In a panic and being used to front-wheel-drive, he hooks the wheel and floors it, trying to drag the nose of the heavy car below the skidding, crashing mess, only to flick the rear end out himself and slide backwards into the guardrail with a BANG. Fortunately, the steel bumper holds up fine, and even more fortunately, the Sedlak stomps the brakes instead of taking the whole front end off of the taxi. The DAW tries to pass the Sedlak as it weaves around the partially-stalled Bricksley (with Jake waiting for a safe time to rejoin the track), only to pinball the guardrail and cause the Phoenix to pile on its brakes.
“What a motherfucking clusterfuck this is! It’s like a pile-up on Interstate 90!” Jake grumbles, deciding if this was what waiting would get him, he’d just do an unsafe rejoin, firing the car down the track.
It’s 2 hours later when Jake again outdrives himself, this time only brushing the guardrail with the whole passenger side of the car while watching the incident between the ARVA and Torrento, though he smirks as V2 struggles to tame the Torrento’s wheelspin. Behind him, there’s a hard thud as the Brunelle plows into the guardrail and swings back across the track, followed by another light squeak as the Qua bumps-and-goes off of the rail, now missing some trim pieces.
Finally, Jake has to bring the Bricksley in for a fill-up with gas, and the large gas tank is “quickly” refilled from the Shitbox-Rally-standard gas cans as fast as the team can manage.
“Go, go, go!” Cody yells after the tank is full, slapping the fuel door closed and tossing the empties over the wall for Trevor to refill.
“Fang it, Jake!” Scott shouts, and Jake responds, smoking one tire in the pit for a few feet, rolling quickly-yet-mostly-safely down the pit lane, and having to stop at the pit lane exit because the Ishii was matching his speed.
The radio clicks on. “Don’t fucking sit there, you plank! Fucking goose it!” Cody yells. Jake floors it and the former taxi lunges out of the pit exit, the dual fake hood scoops obscuring the tiny Qua until it was too late. Jake rams the Qua with a sharp shunt, bumper to bumper, causing both of them to slide off the track.
Jake picks up the radio handle from the dash and apologizes. (@Angelustyle ) “Sorry, had a moron in the pit lane telling me to floor it, I floored it, couldn’t see ya.”
“SHIT SHIT SHIT! GET THE NEXT DRIVER IN!”
“I KNOW IM TRYING TO GET THEM IN”
“TAKE THE EXTRA WHEELS OFF OF THE DUALLY AXLE!”
“GET THE ANGLE GRINDER IM TAKING OFF THE STUMP OF THE AXLE”
(extra speed/less weight now)
Race - Noon to 4 PM - Seinäjoki Speed Freaks
Go! Go! Go!
With Akseli inside of the Speed Freaks’s Sedlak Silva, the main objective in these four hours was to, first of all, get a feeling for the vehicle, finally being able to analyze the handling at higher speeds and on the track itself, and immediately find out what was wrong with the car. And for Akseli, it was incredibly clear what was wrong, the handling was absolutely horrible. Mind you, the 1.8L 4 cylinder turbo engine pulled like a train, and the brakes worked well enough to make it stop in time before the corners, but the handling was absolutely unpredictable, partly the cheap tires, and partly something else that he didn’t know about, until now. The car was understeering in corners, and oversteering out of corners, causing the cautious Akseli to get startled by the snap oversteer. The walkie-talkie was always on, in case of problems, with him or with the cars.
Akseli: Voi Vittu-
Mikko: Is everything alright?
Akseli: The Brickley hit the guardrail, I almost rammed into it!
Mikko: Anything wrong with the car?
Akseli: Well, nothing now! It’s understeerin-SHITSHITSHITSHIT!!! Snap oversteer! I got it, what the fuck did you do to the car!
Mikko: The rear suspension was collapsed, and I put tractor springs-
Akseli: YOU FUCKING IDIOT! That’s why it handles like shit!
After this moment of fear, Akseli continued to drive out of the corner, hopwfully Akseli will be able to keep the car steady enough and not lose too many positions until it’s Mikko’s turn. He’s attempting to safely get into a corner, but it seems that luck wasn’t by Akseli’s side, as he got rammed from behind by the Astral.
Akseli: MY BACK! FUCKING HELL-
Mikko: What the fuck happened?
Akseli: Some idiot rammed into my ass! And we lost the rear bumper!
Mikko: Keep driving! And try not to crash man.
After giving the middle finger to the driver of the Astral, Akseli and his Sedlak continue the race. His attempts to catch up with the Globus were unsuccessful, the large American car’s engine was more powerful, and any attempts to catch up to him in the corners were unsuccessful, something HAD to be done about the back end of the car kicking out. Attempting to catch up to the Astral and the Globus, he barely manages to avoid a crash that might have meant the end of the race for him.
Akseli: Oh no! You fucking don’t!
Akseli completely slammed the throttle down, the back end of the Sedlak almost kicking out as all the power was sent to the four wheels, to try and avoid a crash, hitting the rev limiter of the engine and the straight-piped exhaust with cheap chinese muffler starts spitting flames as Akseli bangs the limiter, before switching gears. The accident was hopefully avoided, but he had to do SOMETHING about the stability of the Sedlak.
Akseli: You either fix the fucking car, or I’m out of this. I don’t want to die because I oversteer into another car.
Mikko: Pull in the fucking pits! We’ll inflate the rear tires! Hopefully they don’t blow out.
Akseli: Alright, alright-
The car pulls inside of the pits, where Mikko was ready with the air compressor. He would quickly inflate the tires even more than how it was suggested, hopefully this would improve the stability, at the risk of the tires blowing out, and a much stiffer ride, hopefully compensated by the tractor springs.
Car status:
Loss of rear bumper: Less weight, higher risk of damage from rear-end collisions.
Over-inflated tires: More stability, reduced snap oversteer, stiffer ride, risk of blow-outs increased.
Driver status:
Akseli: Tired, quickly downing an energy drink before driving away from the pits. Aggression slightly increased because of the stressful environment, still cautious about the status of the car.
Mikko: Hyped up for the race, getting stressed out hour after hour. Aggression increased, caution decreased.
Jani: Blissfully sleeping 
Last Episode (“Reunification with familiar faces”)
Not too long after noon.
Ryoga was putting on steady lap times. Even when their car was amongst the slowest on the field. They had a hard time trying to catch even the Cutter from Team Left for Dead. But then they saw the Flint approaching from behind… That was just after 6 laps, and the Flint was by far the fastest car in the field.
María’s instruction to Ryoga was… weird, to say the least.
Ryoga:“María !”
María:“Yes ?”
Ryoga:“There’s the Flint behind me, I think it’ll lap me…”
María:“They are the leaders indeed… Let them lap you.”
Ryoga:“What ? But, didn’t you want us to be comp…”
María:“I said let them lap you ! What’s important right now is to keep that wedge going.”
Ryoga:“OK… As you please…”
And so, Y.E.A.R. would leave way to those willing to pass.
Even by some point the Qua was lapped by the Cutter. By 2 PM, they were far down in last place, but Ryoga was being surprisingly careful… That was until after 2 PM…
Around 3:30 PM.
…of course, María was pissed just after…
María:“Ryoga, You baka ! Baka ! Bakaaaaaa… (interference)…!”
Ryoga:“Sorry. Hey, at least Hou, Ángel and Catherine are there to look for the damages, right ?”
María:“Yeah, yeah, come down to the pits, we’ll fix whatever you’ve… (interference)… trim pieces down on the track, so we’re leaving debris behind…”
Ryoga:“The car still feels fine, though !”
María:“Good to hear… we haven’t DNFed on your stint…”
María’s stomach starts to grumble. Eating that cheese sandwich for breakfast was anything but good for her already dwindling stomach. But she’d resist until after her stint… She still had time to think about stuff and the effects of the lactose intolerance hadn’t kicked in yet.
Ryoga:“Guys, no problem… Ehhh, You got that on the radio ?”
María:“Stupid Hooligans ! Couldn’t you wait for an itch…? (Interference)…”
Jake:“Hey, calm down… I didn’t meant to do that… Just some moron forced me to accelerate… I’m sorry.”
María:“Yeah, sure !”
After coming off the Radio, María calls Catherine… She’s next to drive… Catherine, at that moment, was “busy”… eating.
María:“Catherine ! Come here, your turn is coming up !”
Catherine:“Hmph? Ifs my tfurn neft ?!?”
María:“Yes, it’s your turn next, C’mon, get yourself ready, we don’t want any trouble or delays !”
Ángel, in order to get some inspiration to the team, gets his phone and puts on some music for the team to hear on the radio… This may work, he thinks.
Current Status of… The Car
Modifications/Repairs/Inspections made: Cosmetic Repairs, duck tape on taillights, really short inspection under the chassis.
Current Status of… The Team
Team Activities: Playing some music over the radio to the Qua, makes everyone feel slightly more confident and inspired.
Mentioning: @Madrias
Team Off-the-Books, Post Noon-4
After Sam’s run-in with Team Traffikjournalen’s ARVA, caused by an overly aggressive passing maneuver by Sam, and with the lead the team had accumulated, Hans spent a fair bit of time lecturing Sam over the radio about the need to be more cautious, especially with the lead. Sam pushed back that the team needed to build up a lead early since Hank–admittedly not the fastest driver–would be taking overnight turns behind the wheel. Sam also argued that with the iffy condition of every hose, gasket, and who knew what else on the worn old Flint, the team could use as much of a lead as it could get in case major repairs were needed at some point. But Hans kept pressing, and Sam eventually conceded that she might try to be more cautious.
In the meantime, Hank, who had insisted on two hour driving shifts and having each driver off for a consecutive 8-hour rest period in order to minimize safety risks associated with drowsy driving, was sleeping on a cot in a tent set up near the pits, only to be woken if needed to help in the pits.
Proposed strategy change for 4-8: +1 to caution, -1 to aggression for Sam Prescott
Lap 1 team radio
Viv: I did not know it was possible to get that much wheelspin from so little power.
Clara: If it was Jamal driving he absolutely would have done the same.
Jamal: I can confirm, I was not expecting that much power. I probably would have done the same. Atleast the tires are warm now, well, its not like the heat makes any difference on these things. How old did you say they were?
Viv: Well the date says 1992…
Jamal: So those tires are older then all of us?
Viv: I guess.
Clara: If you guys are gonna slag off the car can you not do it on the team radio. I’m trying to concentrate.
Viv & Jam: Fine…
Lap 63 team radio
Viv: Jesus clara what was that?
Clara: A love tap. Or a pit maneuver, same thing really.
Viv: How is that legal?
Clara: I don’t know it is lol.
Viv: You are insane, you know that accident involved like 3 people behind you.
Clara: Ok, A: it wasn’t an accident. B: They were behind me. I am simply using my experience to my advantage.
Jamal: Yeah well can you make sure that “experience” leaves a car for the rest of us? I dont want those ‘speed holes’ getting any worse.
Viv: Yeah, its better to finish last then not finish at all.
Clara: I disagree.
Viv: Of course you do…
Lap 167 team radio
Clara: Maniac
Viv: Why, whats happened,
Clara: Whoever was in the Globus cop car just did their best me impression and had a slam into my rear. Lucky I caught it before I spun.
Viv: Any problems?
Clara: Not that I can tell, ironically the car designed to spin other cars has come off worse for wear then a tinfoil coupe with plastic bumpers.
Jamal: Bet you that turned on the hazards
Clara: For that to happen they would need to work.
Viv: Ugh, just get on and drive will you?
Lap 256 the pits
Clara: OK FILL IT UP MOVE MOVE.
Viv: You know fuel stops are mandated to take 15 minutes right?
Clara: Oh yeah, I forgot.
Jamal: Also, it wouldn’t hurt to calm it down a bit you know.
Clara: Pha, like you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing.
Jamal: Hey, when i use aggression I do it safely. No damage to others, and more importantly, to us.
Viv: Speeking of damage, after all the hits you’ve been taking you’l be delighted to know the ‘speed holes’ haven’t gotten any worse. At some point I might have to put in those rebars, but by then any weight we’d gain from them would be lost as little rust flakes across the track.
Jamal: Am I the only one whos concerned that those are critical structural peices?
Clara: Relax, the steel is somewhat corrosion resistant.
Jamal: Thats not what I said, I said that those “flakes” are little bits of a car that used to hold it together.
Viv: I mean, if the chasis failed in the middle, the driveline would technically hold it up, but i wouldn’t want to test that.
Clara: Will you stop reminding me this thing is sketchier then a pen and paper in an art class? Now check those tires and fill it up. I want to make this stop last longer then absolutely required. Jamal, get ready. You’re up next.
