Engine, Clutch and Two Smoking Tyres - my GT Story.

[Falcon787B]

Chapter 1



The car park of the Crown and Sceptre pub was rammed full of cars. Cars adorned with enourmous bodykits, mostly hot hatches, with sound systems doing their best to shatter the windows of the pub with their bass levels. In amongst the throng of twentysomething men with Adidas jackets and Nike trainers stood three younger men.

Eighteen-year-old Alan Opodari took a sip of beer from the cold bottle he held in one hand. He was of Nigerian decent, with a round face and almost completly shaven head. His face, along with the faces of his two friends Jase Tharasum and Dan Jones, was etched with dissillusionment. Jase was of a more stocky build, with a slightly more egg-shaped face and short hair. He was of Indian heritage, but this only showed in his pale-brown skin - all else about him was pure South London, even his accent. Dan, born and raised in Streatham, not far away from here, was the shortest of the three, with spiky hair and a small but aggressive face. He spoke first.

"These jokers aren't racers, man."

"I know, right, some kid over there thought his Corsa was proper fast, and all he's done is put some ****ty air filter on it! ****es me off!" Jase shouted angrily.

"Everybody thinks like that round here, it's how it's always been."
muttered Alan, before taking another gulp of beer.

Behind them, Perry Callahan, another Streatham native like Dan, came up behind them both with a Pizza Hut box in each hand. "Dig in lads, this is red hot."

"I can't be bothered with this ****, who fancies goin' home?" Jase announced in a disgruntled tone.

"Yeah, lets go munch this back at the crib." Alan lead the march back to ther house on Lanercost Road, Brixton.

Ten minutes later, and they were all sat around on the two battered old sofas in the derelict living room of the house they shared. The Pioneer stereo, their pride and joy, was playing some Prodigy CDs, and Alan and Jase were busy playing Need for Speed Carbon on a battered TV in the corner. Perry was flicking through the latest copy of Japanese Cars: Banzai magazine. The pizzas that were contained in the two boxes, one tomato, one meat feast, had both long been devoured,and several empty bottles of beer lay on the humble coffee table in the middle of the room.

Lemme just explain something here. These four guys had seen The Fast and the Furious so many times their copy of the DVD was on it's last legs. They had every edition of Need for Speed from Underground 2 onwards. They were big fans of the whole Japanese import/tuner culture. But unlike their brethrin from the pub, they truely appriciated cars. Dan, Jase and Alan worked at the local Kwik-Fit, and all the copies of the Initial D manga series rested on a rickity shelf on one wall. They didn't follow the stereotype. Trouble was, the only racing/import scene round here was the hot-hatch 'Max Power' brigade whom had littered the pub car park. The fastest Japanese car there tonight ws a 1.6VTi Civic, and even then the owner had spent more on the pair of JL Audio subwoofers than he had on the entire engine and drivetrain. They were desperate to truely experiance the Japanese import culture, but their limited budget just didn't stretch that far. For now, it was only a dream.

Until now.

"hey lads, look at this. You heard of the Gran Turismo series?" said Perry enthusiastically.

"Yeah, little bit. I heard its proper expensive though, and you gotta have your own car or something." replied Dan, sipping at a bottle of beer and reclining on the end of one of the sofas.

Perry shook his head. "Says here you just have to send off your driving licence to register, and they give you a £10,000 grant to get a car to race with..."

Alan's head shot up, and he nearly dropped the PS2 controller. "Ten grand?"

"So it says here. They also provide flights and accomodation to the races. Loads of Japanese cars enter."

"Does it say what cars are allowed? 'Cos there's this lovely old Silvia for sale a couple of blocks away for two and a half grand, we could just get that." Jase suggested.

"Haha, thats the one you like ogling up man! You lookin at that thing like its some girl in a nightclub!" laughed Alan.

"I think it's allowed. There's pictures of them here racing..." Perry said. "Here, check out the article."

The magazine got passed around the group, and once everyone had seen it, Perry spoke again.

"I was thinking we should maybe enter, not all as drivers maybe, but just as a team. We'll all club together for the car, and we'll all work on it. It's gonna be our best chance to actually become proper racers, instead of just sitting round here ****ing around on videogames."

Alan, the natural leader of the group, spoke up. "I fink Perry's right. What we got to loose? We're just gonna be lazing round here in our crap jobs doin nuffin, when we could be out there racin'. Who's in?"

Everybody raised their hand in approval.

"A'ite, thats settled. Perry, you sort out us gettin' registered for dis Gran Turismo series. Jase, you go round to that bloke's house and talk to him about the Silvia. And everybody...be ready to quit your jobs very soon. This could change our lives forever."

The way Alan said the last sentance made the hairs on everybody's necks stand to attention - it had a real sense of prophecy about it.

"To a new life in racing!" Jase raised his bottle of beer in celebration.
Everyone else cheered and toasted the occasion, before they all got back to Need for Speed Carbon. Things would really get moving the next morning.​

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Right on!

Last time i was in London, i was just 17. I always vowed when i become an adult that i would live in England for awhile. I at least wanna come visit somehow.

So you got my attention. Go on, brother....

 

[Falcon787B]

First chapter's done. It's taking a while to get going, but you'll begin to see where it's going as the second chapter commences. Hope i've got everyone interested so far

And Parnelli - its cool, England's a good place despite the doom and gloom reports. Im basing the locations for the first chapter on where my father grew up

 

[mgb-gt]

Sorry boys, only cars from the GT2 village. Great story, can't wait for the next chapter.

 

[LeGeNd-1]

Seems like you've started a trend Parnelli . Nice start Falcon, I'll be looking out for your second chapter 👍.

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Seems like you've started a trend Parnelli . Nice start Falcon, I'll be looking out for your second chapter 👍.

I hope so. Yeah, it's cool that there are now 2 or 3 story-tellers here...cuz my creative process goes on and off. Plus, i like reading other people's stuff, too. 👍

 

[Falcon787B]

Yeah, Parnell's definatly started something here. He's definatly been a massive influence on me - watch out for one or two of his characters perhaps appearing later on in the story...chapter 2 should be coming tonight.

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Yeah, Parnell's definatly started something here. He's definatly been a massive influence on me - watch out for one or two of his characters perhaps appearing later on in the story...chapter 2 should be coming tonight.

Cool. I might have one up tonite, too. I like the "registration process" the lads have to go thru to enter GT... In my games, all the drivers either steal the money, or get an inheritance, or something. The poor ones get a GT scholarship...i guess that's the closest thing to your registration process.

YOu have PIZZA HUT in England? ugh! that's the one pizza that gives me guaranteed hearburn & acid indigestion at the same time.

I also didn't know the Japanese import-ricer scene exists in England just liek it does here....so that educated me a bit.

 

[Rykon Zero]

Muahaha! I might have one by tomorrow, or tonight, if I can gain the courage to think of a plot.

 

[Falcon787B]

Haha, cheers parnelli. I can change it to a Mcdonalds if you want?

And yeah, we have a ricer scene over here, but as described in the story, its woeful. All young guys in flat caps with hot hatchbacks (Vauxhall Corsas, Ford Fiestas, VW Golfs, old Civics) with nothing more than an air filter and a big exhaust fitted, so they sound like a bad fart, and too much damn soundsystem and neons. There is an import scene, but its very low-key.

And the registration thing is an idea I had, like, because you get 10,000 at the start of the game, so it would be like your registering for the series, and gettin a grant to buy a car to run.

As for Stig...im looking forward to seeing it buddy

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Haha, cheers parnelli. I can change it to a Mcdonalds if you want?

McDonald's sucks, too.

And yeah, we have a ricer scene over here, but as described in the story, its woeful. All young guys in flat caps with hot hatchbacks (Vauxhall Corsas, Ford Fiestas, VW Golfs, old Civics) with nothing more than an air filter and a big exhaust fitted, so they sound like a bad fart, and too much damn soundsystem and neons. There is an import scene, but its very low-key.

Yup, that's like 85% of the ricers here....they got the big muffler. Bad paint job (assuming it actually has been painted, most of the time it'll just be a primer job that never got finished). Wheels are too big. Tires with no sidewall. About once a month i get a guy in my shop wondering why he can't keep any air in his tires...well it's cuz the wheels are all dented from taking the brunt of too many potholes & curbs.

 

[Falcon787B]

Yeah, that's exactly it shame really, would be nice to see some Actual Import talent around...and that links back ito the story, as we begin:

Chapter 2:
The Escape Plan

Tuesday, around ten in the morning.



Kwik-fit was relatively empty at the time, and Dan and Alan were sat on two piles of tyres in one corner of the workshop. Dan's old Sony Eriksson phone rested next to him, and was playing a Lethal Bizzle track. Suddenly, Alan looked up.

"Hey, listen a sec, listen a sec." he said excitedly.

Dan paused the Lethal Bizzle track, and looked at Alan like he'd gone mad. But it took him a second or two to hear the same noise Alan had, that low humming that was slowly getting louder. And it took him a further second or two to work out what it was. And when he did, he looked Alan in the eye, and both broke out in massive grins.



A dark blue, slightly dirty 1988 Nissan Silvia S13 weaved it's way through the small carpark outside the workshop and rolled to a halt inside the workshop. Inside was Jase and Perry, both with enormous grins on their faces. Jase couldn't resist giving the 1.8 litre engine several high revs before he switched it off and got out of the car. As Perry stepped out of the car, Dan noticed a small folder of paperwork in his hand.

"Check it out lads," grinned Jase, slamming the door shut and standing next to the car.
"Ohhh niccee, thats some sick **** man," said Alan, through a similarly large grin, "what's it runnin'?"
"Oh, it's only stock, 138hp or somfin? But Perry found this big website where we can order parts for it, and they guarantee next-day delivery, its proper good."

While Jase was saying this, Dan had lifted the bonnet on the car, and was inspecting the engine.


"...looks like a CA18DE engine..." he murmured.

Perry turned to him with a look of confusion. "How do you know?" he quizzed.

"No turbo. The only other 1.8 engine fitted to these cars was the CA18DET, which was turbocharged."

Alan, who had listened to Dan's explanation, turned back to Jase. "So how much cash we got left over for parts?"

"Bout eight grand?" replied Jase.

Alan turned to look at the car. "Well, you know what we gotta do. When we head out to our first race, I don't want to have any of that eight grand left over."

"Wait, hang on, this is like the most amount of money we've ever had! I thought this was about gettin' a better life for us all!" cried Jase.

Alan was quick to retort. "Yeah, I know that, but if we turn up at any Gran Turismo race in this, we gonna get murdered! We're gonna all have to work proper hard if we're gonna make this work. For now, all the money we get is gonna have to go into this. Y'hear me?"

Dan was the first to respond, with a nod. "He's right. This Gran Turismo series has millions of drivers competing in it all the time, so we've got our work cut out if we wanna really make a name for ourselves out there."

Jase paused for a moment, and nodded slowly. "A'ite. I'll order the gear tonight. When is our first race, anyway?"

It was Perry's turn to speak. "This weekend." He pulled out a letter from the wad of paperwork, and put the rest of the paperwork on the roof of the car. The others gathered round. The top of the letter was emblazoned with the Gran Turismo Organisation logo, as well as a slightly smaller one, which read 'Sunday Cup'. Perry cleared his throat and explained.

"Right, we're gonna be running in the Sunday Cup. Basically, its races ran at three tracks, every Sunday, with Saturday set aside for practice sessions. On Sunday competitors are divvied up, and they're organised into groups of six. Two-lap races are run all day, with each race featuring one group of six drivers -"

"Hold on, isn't there six drivers in all Gran Turismo races?" questioned Alan.

"Yeah, but I'm just explaining how they do it in the Sunday Cup, 'cause it's basically like an audition - if you win all three races in the Sunday Cup, that shows the Gran Turismo organisers that you're a cut above the average. Think of it like weeding out the real talent from the hundreds of wannabes who think they 'got skillz'," Perry replied. "The first race to run is at some place called Tahiti Road. Drivers and cars get all-expenses paid transport to each race, no matter which country it is being run in."

"So we don't have to pay for our plane tickets?" asked Dan.

Perry shook his head. "The cars travel by a separate ferry service, but that's all-expenses paid too. It leaves on the same day as you, and it normally arrives at the track about a day after you arrive at the hotel you're staying in. So if we fly out to the track on Thursday, that means the car will arrive there on Friday, in time for registration for the race."

"So if we order the parts tonight, and they come tomorrow, we've got the rest of tomorrow to fit them all before we fly out there on Thursday?" said Dan, with a look which asked whether he had got everything correct in his head or not.

"Yeah, that works." Perry nodded again.

"When do parts arrive?" Alan asked. He was keen to ensure that everything went to plan.

"You can specify whichever time is convenient for you, so if we say we want it in the morning, we'll be able to get them in and install it all tomorrow, before we leave for Tahiti on Thursday." Perry said reassuringly.

For no apparent reason, Jase broke out into an enormous grin. "This is gonna be so sick." he said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeaah..." Dan nodded, laughing slightly to himself.

"A'ite, who fancies Subway for lunch?" Alan asked the group.

"Yeah, I can't be ****ed to work, le's go!" Dan said loudly, and with that, he lead the group out of the workshop and off down the road. The Silvia remained parked in the workshop.

(Imagine this next bit like a montage from a film, with this song playing in the background:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZCVds_Q3WE)

The next day was spent tirelessly working to install the new parts that Jase had ordered the previous evening. These included a new racing flywheel, a complete racing exhaust system, a new sports ECU, and a stage 1 lightweight kit for the car, which included new lightweight door cards and a Plexiglass rear window - all supplied directly from Nismo. The bosses at Kwik-Fit had never seen the boys working so hard. They eventually finished at around seven-thirty, and with that done they all took an early night, in preparation for their 9:30am flight out to Tahiti the following day. As they boarded the aircraft, specially set aside for GT racers, all four men were enveloped with an enormous sense of anticipation and excitement, coupled with nerves. None of them knew quite what to expect, except that they were finally going to be fulfilling their collective dream of motor racing. None of them could have quite expected this when growing up as excited teenagers, forever scribbling pictures of Supras and Skylines in the back of exercise books. But all of them, all four of them, were determined to make this succeed. They had been given the chance of a lifetime.

There was no way they were going to let it slip away.​

 

[Parnelli Bone]

That's it? One paragraph? Come on man, hop to it! Wer'e all waiting!

just kidding.

 

[LeGeNd-1]

Nice idea with the youtube link, can't wait to see the continuation .

 

[Falcon787B]

Alright, sorry guys, the second chapter's done. I was struggling for inspiration on this one, but I think i got something good down. It is a bit dull, but its more setting the scene, and setting out how the GT world works. Hopefully the 'montage' idea works as well, its an idea i had, if only there was a way you could post audio files up. Ohwell, see what you think

 

[Parnelli Bone]

You guys have Subway in England, too? Actually Subway aint that bad. I'll have a sub every now and then from there...it's cool that they make it in front of you and stuff.

Where did you get the engine pic?

 

[Falcon787B]

The Wikipedia article on the Nissan CA engine, that was alongside the CA18DE part of the article
Subways are delicious, I love them....writing that actually made me want one so bad

 

[Gamer_Kid]

Wow this is turning out good, keep it going! Can't wait for what happens next.

 

[Falcon787B]

Chapter 3​

The heat rose steadily from the asphalt, in muggy waves. The palm trees that swayed lazily on the horizon and at intermittent points around the circuit seemed to do so on their own whim, using invisible air which no-one else could feel. The beautiful sunshine was as stark a contrast for the boys upon arrival in this part of the world as they could possibly get from the dingy, grey tedium they left behind, but now was no time to be distracted with thoughts of sun, sea and sexy ladies on the beach. It was time for action.

Jase was the nominated driver, partially by default that he was the only member of the group that had had a driving licence for more than six months at a time - Alan had passed only a month previously, whereas Perry and Dan had between them shared 3 re-takes after various traffic/parking offenses. Alan was designated team manager by no-one in particular, and along with Dan and Perry, formed a motley crew in their assigned booth on the pitwall. Well, a crew in itself was a start - they were the only team there. Everyone else was on their own.

"'ere dey come, boys, laining up now." said Alan in his most authoritative voice, but there was no disguising the nerves in his speech. "You got da monitors up?"

"Yeah yeah, man, got it." Dan replied tersely, as the official race monitor screen sprung into life on his laptop. The connection was buggy - it would be harsh to expect anything more given that their location on an island in the Pacific and that the laptop in question was a budget affair from a Comet trade-in counter - but it was better than nothing, and the official Gran Turismo monitor linked to cameras around the track to give a live relay to the crew as to how their driver was doing. Speaking of their driver, Jase was by now lined up on the back row of the grid, and giving the throttle of their ageing Silvia a blip. The new exhaust system had breathed life into the dusty engine, and there was even a hint of a throaty snarl to it now, which, in the psychological phony war on the grid, gave Jase and the Nissan a slight edge. Mind you, it wasn't as if they needed it.

"Yo, Jase, radio on propah?" Alan snapped into his headset trackside.

"Yeah mann, we good, we good." Jase replied coolly. He noticed the tense pause on the other end of the line, and added "mate, are you brickin' it?"

"**** chyea, I'm nervy man" Alan muttered.

Jase replied with a bawl of laughter. "Are you seriously ****tin' yo'self over dis lot of junk?!" He threw an arm out theatrically, gesturing dismissively to the opposition, even though it was unlikely any of his audience would actually see the gesture.

He had a point, though. It was hard to look at the assorted mix of dinky Kei cars and bland-mobiles and see a serious opposition to the boys' Silvia, even in the modest mildly-standard trim it was in. Perry, however, was quick to chip in with a dose of realism.

"Tell him to stop being a dick, finkin' he's Michael Schumacher already."

"D'ya hear dat? Perry just told you to stop bein' a dick, aright?" Alan barked into the headset microphone.

"Whatevs boiys." Jase reclined in his seat. Race control had just given starter's orders - the time to race had arrived. The lights flashed, the klaxon blared - 3, 2, 1, START!



With a deft stomp of the accelerator, the Silvia reared on it's arches and slithered off with an immediacy that even caught out Jase - not that he would have ever admitted it, or shown it. The opposition blithered into a small cluster on the left side of the track, looking to get optimum position for the first, smooth right-hand corner. Jase didn't need to bother - a swift slam of the gearstick into 3rd gear, and the Silvia hunkered down and swung through the apex, beating his opponents to the punch, before swiftly sliding the other way to negotiate the uphill esses.





"PAH! Didyo' see DAT! Merkilla!" laughed Jase, foot planted to the dusty floor.

"He ain't takin' dis seriously at all, is he?" said Alan, half-smiling, to his colleagues.

"Nah, but he should - dat old car ain't no F1 car. We got grip issues." muttered Dan.

"You wot?" said Alan, his neck nearly snapped as it spun round to face the laptop.

"Look here, he's just gone frough the big S bends. See how the cars' slaiding everywhere?" He jabbed the screen with his finger as the image of their Silvia screeching through the difficult S bend corners on the south side of the course, known to the locals as simply the 'Big S', flashed up.





"Yeah, dat's natural dou, aint it?" mused Alan quizzically.

"Well yeah, dats wat im sayin'." said Dan.

"What you're sayin, in a pretty stupid, kinda roundabout way, is that we shoulda got some new tyres instead of power-ups?" interjected a perplexed Perry.

"I fink so. I didn't fink it would be dat big a problem, but I reckon it might be here." said Dan slowly.

"Jase is decent, as long as he don't do nufin' stupid, he'll win aright." said Alan, in a reassuring tone that was more for his own benefit than anyone elses'. Any affect from the words was short-lived, however.

"****! I've ****ed it!" cried Jase.

"What da **** you done?!" shouted Alan, snatching at the headset.

It become quickly obvious what he had done.





The 90-degree Bell Tower corner at the far end of the circuit had claimed another overconfident victim. Jase had slipped into a bout of bad oversteer, and wound up almost parking it in the grass verge on the inside of the exit of the corner. He could've been consoled by the fact that a) he wouldn't have been the first young driver to have karked it at that particular part of the track in that particular race, and b) at least he didn't trash the bodywork badly, but none of this particularly mattered, especially when the pack of trundling entities that made up his opposition had cruised past whilst he was practicing parallel parking in the verge.

"****! I knew he'd do somefin stupid!" raged Alan, throwing the headset across the booth and narrowly missing Perry's ear.

"Yo, chill man! He's still in it! ****in' relax, mate!" cried Dan in a vain attempt to calm the situation. Remarkably, it worked.

"Aright, aright, I'll chill. He'd better not do anymore dumb **** dis race though." grumbled Alan.

Silence reigned in the booth, and only the distant sound of crowd cheers, the crackling tannoy, and the low hum of engines, including the crunching of a certain 1.8L Nissan engine as a certain embarrassed driver desperately tried to make up for lost time, could be heard.



Silence also reigned on the radio, which was enough to worry Alan into picking up the battered headset and barking a swift 'yo Jase' into the microphone. His answer doesn't come from Jase himself, but more the sight of the field hooning past the pitwall in two lines of three, side-by-side, as if flying in grid formation. Jase was in the same position he started - on the right and in last - but he wasn't planning on staying there long. Alan muttered a final instruction to his wheelman.



"Yo man, whateva you do, don't trash dat ****, aright? You got dis. Be calm. Sniper man, aright?"

Still no reply, but he knew Jase had got the message. With the cars now vanishing out of view round the first turn and up the hill, the focus turned to the laptop screen and the monitors.

Behind the wheel, Jase was calm and focused. No quips or arrogant dismissals of the opposition now - he would have time enough to say and do what the hell he liked on the winner's rostrum, but for now, falling at the first hurdle was not an option.





The immediate problem facing him wasn't an inability to out-pace his opponents, more an inability to actually find a way through the rolling roadblock which had formed. His five rivals had managed to form into a consistent entity that managed to block the entire track. With cars swerving left and right trying to gain an advantage, Jase had to see a gap and put his car there before anyone else got there first. And his chance came at the Big S.





The nose dived into the gutter in the grass on the inside, with the stock tyres waving a white flag of surrender, but somehow, the car stuck long enough to pull side-by-side with the 4th place Daihatsu. A swift rebuke from the wheel, and the car pulled straight again exiting the Big S. Two down, four still to go.



But now Jase had the bit between his teeth, a carbon copy of his kerb-crawling antics followed at the next uphill right. Gears crunched, revs climbed and somehow, left-side body panels remained undented as Jase emerged on the other side of the corner in 2nd - and a horrendously ugly Suzuki Alto Works in his crosshairs.



The poor box on wheels never stood a chance, as the Silvia gassed by on the straight-away.



Back in the booth, the boys trackside were unable to decide between stunned silence and rapturous cheering as their reaction of choice, and decided to go for a messy combination of both, as well as some sharp gasps and intakes of breath thrown in every time Jase stuck his car in the apex gutter. And this time, the Bell Tower corner would not be their nemesis.



The laptop was tossed aside as the Silvia came hurtling down the hill and back onto the pit straight for the final time, and all other emotions gave way to blind delirium as the dusty, jet-lagged Silvia took the chequered flag.



"YEHESS! ****in' suck dat!" were Jase's first words after passing the stripe. His new-found modesty was apparantly short-lived.

"Naice one, we did it! Despite your best efforts to **** **** up!" joked Alan, mopping a thick bead of sweat from his until-very-recently furrowed brow. The boys down tools and streamed out of the booth to greet Jase and their beloved Silvia as it rolled slowly into the pits, and a funny feeling swept over the group - no longer were they looking at an old, jaded second-hand sports car that had sat under tarpaulin in a neighbour's garage for eighteen months. They were looking at their pride and joy. The fruits of their initial efforts had been reaped, in the form of victory, a step on the ladder into the world of Gran Turismo competition, and a cheque for £3,000. A flustered, oriental-looking fellow who was trying to juggle organising the previous races' competitiors back into the garage and stimultaneously herding the next lot of six out onto the track, without much success, directed the boys into a back office perched above the garages, where a senior official in a smartly-pressed suit, which was wilting under the pressure of the ever-expanding sweat patches under his arms, exchanged a shake of hands with the boys and the magic cheque was handed over.

Having danced all the way down the stairs in a bizaare, impromptu celebratory jig, the boys gathered by their quietly resting Silvia and looked at each other, unsure of what particularly to say next. The door was open, and they had slipped inside. Now they were in the world of Gran Turismo - where next from here?


(All pictures taken from the official G.T. Live Feed)​