Prologue
#Team Flaming Fart Cannon
###The team
Kai Kristensen
Age: 26
Titles: Gryphon Gear Lead test driver; Gryphon Gear factory race driver
Bio: Drives to chase his demons, and drives as if chased by demons. Driving is his soul and muse. Keeps odd hours, can’t keep still, and the only meaningful way to modulate his moods is music. Has mechanic certification so often gets saddled with wrench duty when on informal road trips. If he looks shifty, that’s because he is; those fingers aren’t just good at nuts and bolts. With his small, lithe frame can also squeeze into tight spots like nobody’s business. His spirit animal would be a ferret.
Stroppy McHorseguy
Age: 29
Titles: Gryphon Gear Design Chief; Gryphon Gear casual test driver
Bio: The catalyst behind GG’s obsession with street-legal four figure outputs and speed at all costs. Has next to no engineering background, so ended up a professional doodler. A former medical doctor who burnt out from burning the candle at both ends a bit too much, he has transferred his obsessive nature to realising a childhood love, hence the explosive proliferation of outlandish concepts and mad projects. His intensity is laced with a certain asceticism, always practicing martial arts and healthy eating. As the one who impulsively introduced Kai to GG, he has frequently been dubbed the unofficial Kai wrangler.
Toothless
2001 Toyota Corolla Ascent Seca E120 (as sold in Australia)
Components:
Original 1.8L 1ZZ-FE block
Bolt-on turbo (found in GG mule testing surplus stock) with air-air intercooler
Forged internals
Tuned ECU
Widebore exhaust
Stock transmission
Neon pink aftermarket alloy wheels 195/55R15 sports compound tyres
Stock brakes
Stock suspension
Stock interior
GT wing
GT splitter
Lidded green tinted headlights
Chrome exhaust tip
Custom sidepanel flame decals
151bhp @ 6900rpm
207Nm @ 3700rpm
0-100km/h - 7.7s
Quarter Mile 15.9s
8L/100km
Clearly an ironic statement, given this served as Kai’s daily for a couple of years. Truth was he didn’t know he had money to spend and his other car was a gifted 2.5M four-wheeled monster that ate hypercars for breakfast and shat fireballs with the power of BOOOOSCHT. Not a great daily. And if you have an unobtrusive shitbox the previous owner’s idea of ‘love’ is ‘push thoroughly’, then why not make a real fist of it and wring what little life out of it left. That’s the idea now: take it on one final voyage where it will probably explode and burn, and where it dies shall be its grave.
Known issues: the clutch is a bit worn and will slip on a hard launch. The right front CV joint sounds dangerously creaky. The rear brake pads are probably just about completely gone. The speakers don’t really work. The horn definitely does not work. The condition of the airbag is… unknown. There’s no spare. On the plus side the engine has been cleaned, polished, greased up and the pistons, while reconditioned, are in good nick.
#Day 0
Heeeeeeey Team Flaming Fart Cannon on the scene with a car that decidedly did not fire flaming farts, but hey, at least it did stand out from the crowd. In parc ferme it seemed that they stood out perhaps a little much, what with the garish colours and all. Strop kind of imagined that the other vehicles might have been a bit more, er, outspoken, but it was rather not the case, and he risked feeling self-conscious. Well, fuck that, this was not the place for being shy, if they managed to venture all the way to Trump (not-my-president) Land!
“Actually come to think of it,” Strop stopped in sudden thought. Kai, lounging across the back seat of Toothless, plucked his earphones off and poked his head through the open door: “Hmm?”
“Isn’t this the first time you didn’t get detained going through customs?”
“Holy shit, you’re right! You got held up instead!”
“That’s right.” Strop jabbed an emphatic finger. “Just saying. It’s racism in action, that’s what it is.”
“What, and the fact TSA like to assume I’m a drug mule every single time isn’t discrimination?”
At this point the delightful invective-laced banter of a certain Jewish-Italian odd couple wafted over the airwaves. “Ahhhh, it’s almost just like Australia, except Australia has less black people.”
The declining standard of discourse in this passage was mercifully truncated by a revving engine with no muffler, plus a lot of tortured squealing on top. One of the racists was seen walking over, producing a badge. Kai rolled over, groaning. “Fuuuuuck what’s a cop doing in an event like this?”
“No, Kai, you are not jacking his ride.” In younger days, Kai had a bit of a track record with the constabulary of more than one country of a range of antagonistic maneuvers, ranging from slipping out of his cuffs to “borrowing” a police car during a multicar chase.
“Aww!” Kai was about to slip his headphones back on when they saw somebody half-jogging towards them. “You guys Gryphon Gear? Holy shit you are!”
“Ah, yes, I suppose so,” Strop scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling self-conscious again. “Hey Kai, get out here!”
Kai’s head popped back through the door: “wha?” only to find his hand being vigorously pumped. “Oh my god I’m Seb so nice to meet you I’m a massive fan ever since you completely locked out the last AMWEC season these guys didn’t believe you’d do it but I told them you were the real deal and you did it you really did it and what are you doing here anyway can I have your autograph-”
For once Kai was completely outpaced, and, having carried the status of Rookie and Underdog for most of his professional career, he was still not used to actually dealing with actual fans, so all he managed was a bashful grin and a: “sure I’ll sign.” Though of course he didn’t have a pen. While Seb and Kai fumbled around for autographing material, in the interest of politeness, Strop was awkwardly talking to James and Martin: “so, have you done this before?”, though he was aware that each passing moment was a moment closer to having to explain what the actual fuck was with their car.
several minutes later
“Ahaha… long story, that. Let’s just say it’s going to be a Viking sendoff.”
“A… what?”
Strop gestured at Kai. “Danes, y’know.”
Between Seb also not having a pen, Kai insisting if he wanted an autograph, the least he could do was find something to write with, and Strop realising a bit of pre-event briefing might just be helpful enough to reduce their chance of having to hitchhike half the journey with a potential serial killer, they’d formed a bit of an odd party with the beer of Team ‘Southend Or Bust’, the instant ramen of Team Flaming Fart Cannon, and a gas stove. Strop wasn’t much of a drinker and Kai actually generally avoid it given the memories of his angry drunk self yelling at the rain times, but this was an exception. Slightly famous or not, this was the time to do as planned and cut loose a bit, which, naturally, meant whipping out the UE Boom stick and comparing playlists. “Ok, I see you that, but if you want something really fresh, you should check out these guys.”
Now decidedly not shy anymore (and perhaps a little buzzed), Strop proceeded to select his moves from the Ministry of Silly Walks and got his groove on.
#Day 1
“YEEEEAH MOTHERFUCKER I’M FLYING.”
“Kai, shouldn’t you keep your head inside of the door while you’re driving?”
“You just do your navigatey thing, and I’ll do my drivey thing!”
Strop looked at the map again. This didn’t seem too… difficult. Provided nothing major went wrong, which it probably would, but otherwise, they might have to step things up a little bit at the right time if they really wanted to give Toothless the appropriate send-off. Either that, or drop him off a cliff at the end or something. Hitchhiking was kind of a hassle, after all.
But it was a beautiful day, the air was fresh, the skies clear, and the tunes were buzzing with the windows down. This was the best possible start to a roadtrip, culminating in a ferry ride with a whole bunch of shitboxes, ranging from old hatches, older sedans, and a spacevan??? Time to scope out the competition, perhaps, since there would be no driving on the ferry, there’d still be plenty of entertainment to go around.
