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A SHORT WORK OF GT FANBOY FICTION
BY SHEM
BY SHEM
A crisp, morning breeze drifted in from the Pacific ruffling leaves on trees all the way through central California and cooling the land. Light clouds floating high above in small groups did little to protect the earths surface from the blazing sun which gazed down upon it. By early morning the quiet streets and town centers began to warm from waves of sunshine from up high as they started to busy with local residents going about their daily lives.
Away from the bustling towns Laguna Seca Raceway was creeping slowly into life throughout the morning. Several groups of cars were already parked up in the parking area being watched by the low, slowly raising sun. The track was deadly silent, anticipating the coming happenings of the day, knowing it would soon be hosting company.
Along the pit lane dust blew gently past each workshop where short handed teams of engineers gathered in conversation around lifeless race machines, each team discussing the days forthcoming activities over steaming mugs of coffee and tea.
The murmuring of accumulating spectators could just be made out from the grandstand over the sound of more arriving teams hustling the pit lane into a commotion with their preparations.
Now the sun gathered pace towards the middle of the expansive sky and throughout the grounds of the circuit noise levels rose as the grandstands filled and mechanics set about dressing the competing cars for their grand revival.
Each of the competitors was house safely away from public view, guarded like a political secret. From time to time a glimpse could be caught of a front diffuser protruding past the workshop entrance giving a slight hint to the beast insides identity.
Around lunch time the line-up of cars was announced to the eagerly waiting race fans. Today was, after all, the Rolex Monterey Motorsports Reunion. Spectators from all over the world had made the journey to the Mazda Raceway in the hopes of seeing their favourite cars from their youth race once more for the glory of 1st place.
After a high pitched whine a deep, rumbling voice boomed around the venue from several loud speakers positioned along the trackside.
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Mazda Laguna Seca Raceway. Coming up soon will be the announcement of todays schedule after a message from out events organizer
The announcer continued to flood the paddock with information about the up coming events, receiving the full attention of the crowds.
Nestled at the end of the pit lane in the end garage stood a tall, slim built man wearing racing overalls marked with patches and automotive company logos and a name patch which read, simply Bob, around him only another overall suited man peering around the engine bay of a dust sheet covered vehicle.
Bob paced towards a chair at the rear of the workshop where he slumped down to rest. He drew his gloved hands to his face and rubbed at his eyes for a moment before exhaling a large breath. A feeling of anxiety became apparent as he shuffled his weight from side to side in the chair, yet his face remained unreadable and decidedly focused.
The loud speaker voice again echoed around divulging more race information.
The next scheduled event will commence at 1:30, can all teams please complete their final checks and prepare for grid entry.
Bob dropped his gaze towards his wrist watch. The face showed 12:45.
He lifted himself up from his resting place and stalked towards the door of the garage. The mechanic had now finished his pre-race inspection and was calmly puffing away on a cigarette, sending wisps of flimsy smoke into the air. Bob looked towards him, still without an expression on his face, seeking to find out if the car was ready to run. Without a word the mechanic looked over to Bob with a grin and simply nodded his head in an approving way.
Bob turned back to the motor behind him; the dust cover had stayed laying over it all morning but now was the time for the paint to see the sun. He reached for the corner of the sheet and tore it away from the sleeping racer. Bob stood remarkably still as he patrolled around the car admiring her fearsome shape. She gleamed in the dim light of the workshop. The wear on her seats displayed her age; wood trim adorned the wheel which perched wide before a set of simple gauges, needles all dead at zero. Her smooth curves lead away from hard looking round eyes, from the heart of the monster, pipes either side leading the length of the cockpit glistened in chrome. Bulging arches housed perfectly clean rims coated in slick rubber. Two white strips ran the length of her low, flowing physique, starting at the wide open mouth at the front until they dropped away behind her curvaceous rump. The chrome trim reflected light around the garage and her doors sported the number 68.
Bob ran his hand across her hood the way a man caresses a beautiful woman and paused at the badge, lent towards it, breathed a lungful of warm breath it and rubbed it gently with his palm. The badge shone proudly; AC.
Opening the door Bob climbed inside and placed his hands around the wheel, imagining the race ahead. He put the key into the ignition and with a swift turn of the key the AC began to splutter before roaring into life. She shook and rattled before settling down to a deep purr. The rev counter needle hardly flinched.
Once more the voice of the announcer came booming into Bobs ears.
Drivers for heat 2, please bring your vehicles to the starting grid.
Bob hesitated for a moment before a sly grin crept onto his face for the first time that day. He depressed the heavy clutch, shifted into first gear and slowly edged the beastly Cobra, still growling gruffly, out onto the pit lane for the formation lap.
Outside the other cars had emerged for the heat. In the line up were Ferraris, Porches, Alfas, Corvettes, Fords and other classic race cars all eager to relive their glory days.
Bob coursed the Cobra around the winding Laguna circuit being overly careful not get distracted by the masses of fans who had turned out for the event. His mind was on the race, his body in sync with the AC like and extension of his own self. Once the formation lap was complete each competing car drew up to their spot on the grid. Bob and the Cobra were on the third row in fifth place alongside one of the Ferraris.
Now nothing made a sound. Tension held static in the air like it was frozen in ice. The warming rays of sun struck down upon the raceway forming a blur in the distance. The mornings breeze had ceased its cooling flow. The seconds before the flag came down seemed to last forever. Only the quite hum of the cars engines ebbed out across the grandstands. Bob felt the sweat accumulating on his brow, his helmet was smothering him but he was as focused as could be. The flag came down. With the reactions of a mongoose Bob lifted the clutched, snatched first gear and stamped down the throttle. The Cobra kicked up a fuss at the rear while desperately struggling to maintain a hold, the traction was slipping away. Bob leveled off the gas to gain momentum before hammering it back down into the foot well and surging forward under the brute force of the Cobras power plant. All 485 horses under the hood screamed and exploded as Bob cranked through gear after gear. Around him the other race cars were seemingly standing still as the slick, 7lt monster bolted to the front of the pack towards turn one of circuit.
Bob could feel his heart revving as high as the heart of the Cobra, his attention set on the braking zone, his hands gripped tightly on the wheel and
Bob!?
Bob!?
Bob, wake up this instance young man or youll be late for school!
(Sorry for the lack of pics, theyll be added at a later date.)
Shem.
