Parnelli's GT2 stories.

[Parnelli Bone]

Later that evening: raced at Red Rocks, in Colorado. or is it Nevada? ANyways, I finally came in first and beat th eSunday Cup series. Now Yuppy can go see Europe, which is what any red-blooded, green pocketed yuppy Anerican would want to do. celebrated the win with a new Lawnmower, but also sports car tires + some new wheels from Finkel.

CHAPTER VII​

"MOM CAN I GO ON JENNY JONES?"

Tiffany sighed. Weren't things complicated enough around the Wellington household?

"Absolutely NOT, Princess." replied the stressed mother.

Tiffany Wellington, mother of 2, wife of Graham, put her hand to her head, taking a break from slaving over some sort of chicken casserole dish. This was just what she needed. Her son had failed a social studies test, and threw a temper tantrum out on the soccer field in front of all the other kids and moms (sooo embarassing), her husband was MIA (missing in action)...lord knows what was happening with him. Wasn't he supposed to be back from Japan? Jeez.

And now this. Her ...(excuse me, their) daughter Princess had lately been watching plenty of "trash TV". Jenny Jones, Ricki Lake, Montel Williams. Princess had recently stopped watching "General Hospital" (a fine, long-running soap in Tiffany's opinion) and was now instead obsessed with "Passions". The only saving grace here was that little 12-year old Princess hadn't yet sunk to "Springer" level. Tiffany didn't think Princess would stoop low enough to start watching Jerry, but lately it seemed everything was ...."off-the hook" (as the kids would say nowadays).

But THIS. This JENNY JONES. It made her sick. And of course, it wasn't just Princess's idea...all the other "tween" girls in upscale Redmond were suddenly watching JJ. All of her friends watched it, why couldn't she?

The main issue wasn't Jenny herself, it was the show's content: lately Miss Jones had popularized a segment of her show, in which young girls (half of them not even developing, yet) would strut out onto a catwalk, stroll onto the stage, wearing next-to-nothing. Dressed like "tramps". While Jenny (in each show) would act completely shocked...as if she didn't mean for ANY of this to happen! This was (apparently) what Jenny needed to keep her ratings high, to keep up with Springer.

And it seemed to be working, because now Princess had come back from her room wearing a feather-boa and hot-shorts guaranteed to bring an early coronary to any mother who cares! As a "drill-sargent" tromped on-screen wearing a beret, camoflauge pants, and a wifebeater T-shirt, promising Jenny and the audience that he would "turn these wayward kids around", Tiffany had enough.

"Turn that trash off, Princess. RIGHT NOW"

"But MOOOM! You said i could have whatever i want if i got good grades!!! And i have been! Pleeeeeaze!!!!!"

Well, this was true. As long as Princess got good grades, and acted like an angel, she technically could have whatever she wanted. But "whatever she wanted" meant chaperoned trips to the mall. Geting her nails done. Maybe even a cell phone when school went out for summer. It did NOT mean going on Jenny Jones, trolling around like a baby-prostitute!

"Princess, you have no idea how hard your father and i have worked. To put you thru school. To get food on the table. We are a respectable family. A family who others look up to. And we are not--"

"Mom, you said i could ahve whatever i want if i got good grades. THAT WAS THE DEAL. I want to go on Jenny JOnes! It would be the coolest! PLeeeease???"

Tiffany was now thoroughly drained. "Why can't you just ask for a pony, like all the girls asked when i was in school?" She mumbled....the fight slowly dwindling out of her.

"Mom, PONIES ARE DUMB! They smell! And they like...give you DISEASES and stuff. That's what Margey says. And she knows! Her older brother's cousins girfriend worked next door to a vet's office! So THERE!"


Just at that moment the phone rang. Tiffany began to walk over to check the caller ID, but before she could, Princess had bolted in a flash to grab it. Manners. What was happening to them?

"HI DADDY!!!! MOM, IT'S DAD!!!"

"Yeah, so i gathered". Tiffany said.

"Dad, can i go on Jenny JOnes? Mom says no, but she's just being silly. She doens't mean it. So pleeease??? PLease daddy?"

"Where is he now? Tuscaloosa??" Tiffany asked, nonplussed.

"Hey Dad! Mom wants to know if you're in Tuskamoosa or something".

"Not Tuscamoosa, Tuscalooss--just GIVE ME THE PHONE, Princess". Sigh.

As Princess reluctantly handed the phone over, Graham braced for the storm.

He was now in Arizona, near Phoenix, to be exact. Graham had arrived here just an hour ago, checked into the Pest Western, where (as a guest of the Gran Turismo establishment) he would be staying for the next 2 or 3 days.

"Hi cupcake!" Graham said, as rosy as can be.

"Graham, don't cupcake me! Listen. WHERE ARE YOU? What is going on??? I'm in the middle of a casserole dish, and guess what? Well i ran out of Hamburger Helper! And guess who had to go to the store to get it?"

"Okay, my lovvey!! One question at a time. Graham is here! I am here, my love."

"WHERE?" Cuz you're certainly not HERE, now are you? Because if you were HERE, you'd be helping me! But you're not HERE, are you? You are some where else. Am i supposed to GUESS?"[/u]

Dang. Now the fun part.

"Oh my struedell sunshine sugar cookie! I know how it looks! Daddy will be home soon. I was in Japan, met all parties involved, and got all the motions filed, paperwork altercated pertaining to subsection F from the mitigating docket as located by Q-margin arrangement #707.11-A, but we hit a snag, a very unexpected snag, and for this reason, i have now been asked to appear at a trial hearing now in Phoenix"...

"PHOENIX? YOU'RE IN PHOENIX?? WHY? WHY PHOENIX??? WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOU LATELY. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!!!"

"Well lovey", said Graham calmly, without a trace of deviance in his voice, "the essential supplication called for a negative preview of resolution C, which filed under 21A of sub-section 42-R.110doc8m--"

"Look. Graham. Listen. I have had enough. Enough of your bull-s:censored:. Enough of your lies. We shall be getting to the bottom of this. I called your associates over at Bubble, Banks, and Buddahmeyer, and they have told me the truth. The truth, Graham. There is no rich tycoon. No divorce. But if we keep this up, keep these lies up, perhaps we can arrange one for ourselves? What do you say, Grammy? How about it, huh?"

At this, Graham finally stopped. Okay. No more lies. As a potent Sagittarius, one of his wife's main traits was that she was supposed to be blunt as hell, and though Graham didn't believe in astrology, he had to give credit where credit was due, cuz his wife was quite the bluntress.

"Yeah, you're right. No tycoon. No divorce. I'm sorry" was all he said.

"Well, what are you doing? Why down there in Phoenix and not up HERE in Redmond? Does this have anything to do with that "racing" we did in Tahiti? I just wanna know".

"okay. The truth. Here it comes. I'm not even supposed to be discussing these matters with you, but--desperate times call for desperate measures. So here goes. Aphorism V was taken into account for due process, which in section 8 of Kapler's tribluation-stasis, was noted by our Asian attornies as--hello? HELLO?"

Tiffany had hung up on her husband of 12 years.





Graham recoiled as if slapped. Hell, that was a bit of a slap, and maybe he even deserved it. But he felt he knew what he was doing. Everything would actually turn out grand. If he could just focus.....

...focus....

on what was really important. Right now.

As Graham bounced off the single bed in his 3-star Pest Western room, he swooped over and grabbed his briefcase. "First things first" he said to nobody.

He plugged into the wall, booted up his $3,000 laptop as if he were a kid starting a videogame, and clicked on Internet Explorer, the absolute top connection of late 1999 (in Graham's opinion, anyways). First things first.

He quickly punched "F1' on the keyboard, bookmarked several months ago for emergencies just like this one, and brought up his much-needed website:

www.Starbucks.com ​

Forget racing! Forget Tiffany! Forget Jenny Jones and whatever crisis happened on her show! He needed a triple-decker cafe/mocha lattefier! NOW!

As he punched on the Store Locator, and redirected from Osaka, Japan to Phoenix, Arizona, USA, Graham was pleasantly surprised that...why a Starbucks was located just inside the hotel grounds! Yippee!

Graham almost ran out of his room in his boxer shorts. Woops!

A half-hour later (after showing the barrista a 15-page coil-bound PDF printout of how he liked his favorite drink {a latte, obviously} prepared, getting into a near-argument with her, talking down to the manager, and finally getting what he wanted) Graham was finally focused. Ready to think.

AFter reading a Wall Street Journal, and getting bored, he thought he might just up and wander over to the racing paddocks. To see his baby again. And she would be waiting....

 

[LeGeNd-1]

Just when I thought the story had changed course to become a thriller you turned the tables and goes back to your previous lighthearted style . Keep up the good work 👍. Best episode to date .

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Just when I thought the story had changed course to become a thriller you turned the tables and goes back to your previous lighthearted style . Keep up the good work 👍. Best episode to date .

Thanks! And don't worry..the racing part will be up tomorrow....i know there's alot of "dialogue" in this one. but it seemed necessary to build the plot up, rather than just have Graham go from track to track in a linear fashion.

By the way, do you guys even have Jerry Springer in Indonesia? Do you know what i'm talking about? Probly do...

 

[LeGeNd-1]

No we don't, but i can imagine what the show is like, so don't worry, I know what you're talking about .

Edit: Just wiki'ed it, yeah that show is really bad for young minds .

 

[blazing escudo]

Hmm,perhaps i should restart my GT2 data and start to write things like these.
Anyway,great job as usual,Parnelli.I wanna know what will be happen in the race.
I SALUTE YOU!!!! 👍

 

[Falcon787B]

FANTASTIC!! Now we have the subplot of what will happen with the family really building here! This is great!

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Thanks guys. 👍 Stay tuned for the race.

 

[Falcon787B]

We shall

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Thanks guys. 👍 Stay tuned for the race.

CHAPTER VIII​

Graham may have been good at many bad things: a bloodsucking leech of a lawyer, a habitual liar, an arrogant, bullying, selfish man who got whatever he wanted by whatever means possible, as well as simply a bad driver, but he wasn't much of a thief. He wasn't much of a prowler. He wasn't good at doing things underhandedly unless he had someone present to bounce off.

In other words, Graham needed an audience of at least one other human for him to perform his magic. That was why he did well in the courts, on highways, and before frightened Starbucks employees.

But here? All alone and by himself? Graham got frightened himself.

After fueling up an overload of his foamed whole-milk "lattefier" (none of that pansy soy crap for him), he wanted to go see his car. He knew it would be impossible and stupid to try and attempt to actually drive it on the track, for it was now close to midnite, and the track itself was mostly dark. But Graham was having ...a bit of a moment. Perhaps it had something to do with the excitement of the last few days...the fights with his wife, the glory of winning, the rush he felt knowing he was the best, and others would have to go home as losers. He needed to see his blue G20. To sit in its poly-cloth seat and just be with it for awhile.

If Graham could find a security guard, a cleaner, or maintenance worker, he knew he was as good as "in", even at this late hour. But as he walked around the track's periphery, he spotted nobody. Nobody to convince or cajole. So he was stuck. Even if he somehow broke into the facilities, he would have no idea where they kept the cars overnite; Red Rock Speedway was a huge track--extremely complex. It had only been opened to the public for less than a month, and already had a reputation amongst spectators, who regularly got lost trying to locate their seat, which could be at one of about 14 different bleacher areas. He would get lost! NO doubt. Sometimes, even some of the track workers got lost here!

So he would have to break in. And he would get lost. And it wouldn't be a matter of just one break-in...he would no doubt have to locate the area where the cars were kept, which would (no doubt) also be locked. Then, he would get caught by someone. Then what? Graham had plenty of experience protecting those who got in trouble, but absolutely no experience trying to instigate trouble himself. He wimped out.

After walking a couple miles, he finally decided to give up. A taxi drove by, and Graham went back to the hotel.

Unfortunately, he couldn't sleep. Late-night TV sucked and was a waste of time. LIke many white-collar professionals, Graham was great at being a workaholic...not so great at "killing" time and leisure activities.

He fired up his laptop (again) Links to the Gran Turismo webpage (at www.GranTurismo.com ) sent him to a videogame message board..., huh. After reading some of the quips there in the GT2 section from a poster with the odd name "pupik", Graham decided to instead read all he could about the Infiniti G20, which he actually knew little about other than a couple of his paralegals and secretaries drove them to work.

When he first got his paperwork a couple weeks ago, Graham spent some time drooling over the selection of cars but couldn't afford a Lexus or a Beemer with the money he embezzled. But now (after bonding with his G20 for the last couple weeks) he wanted to learn all he could.

"Born in Japan. Educated in Europe. Now Available in America." ​

was the caption he caught from one website.

Well, this did the trick. Before he knew it, Graham was out. Asleep. He would remain so for just 4 hours, when his pre-set alarm went off at 6am.

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Sorry for the double-post. I've had some horrific experiences lately with writing tons of text, hitting "submit", only to find everything i've written gets lost for some reason. Then i gotta start all over. Sometimes i (before hitting submit) choose ctrl+A (highlighting all text), ctrl+C (copying it so if it won't let me post, at least i can start all over with copied and pasted text). Problem is, if i add to the text i previously wrote for chapter 8, i'd have to copy and paste text that is already there (confusing, i know) and this would confuse me! Bill me, Jordan, if there's an issue.

So without further ado...

CHAPTER IX

Graham's Red Rock Practice Run​

Graham had heard rumors about how big Red Rock Speedway actually was, but the rumors paled in comparison to the actual reality of hte track itself. He would later learn Red Rock Speedway employed close to 300 workers to take care of all the fans in the stands, concessions, and other pertinent areas. Many of them were a motley crew of teenagers, college students and illegal Mexicans, making minimum wage, of course. There were also 5 restaurants, dozens of concession stands, close to 400 bathroom stalls, a "beer-garten", inflatable rides for the kids, a small water park, and hordes of other features. Graham knew very little about what Big Business racing tracks (especially NASCAR ones) could generate, and he was pleased.

Just as he had in Japan, Graham would be the first of many drivers (about 70, this time) to show up at the track. After finding a much-needed map of Red Rock so he wouldn't get lost, he strolled down pit road at exactly 7:29am...and arrived in front of his blue '91 Infiniti at 7:30 am, on the dot.

While other drivers (those who were awake, anyways) stumbled out of their rooms at the Pest Western to receive their complimentary breakfast, Graham had already visited Starbucks for a couple drinks and a cinnamuffin, and was now here, ready to roll. As it were.

Again, he was in his finest Brooks Brothers suit (which he of course had professionally dry-cleaned & pressed) carrying his briefcase and grande lattefier drink, and there was another set of confusing moments during which early track-workers wondered who the hell this guy was, why was he here, and why so early?

Being as early as he was, and being (as usual) a step ahead of everyone else present with his scheming brain, Graham convinced the presiding track marshall that it would be "okay" if he was the first on the track. He could get his practice sessions over with before any other drivers got there, and would not request an additional run; thereby saving time later when the stands were packing with fans and pit road would be chaoticly full of rosters, clueless drivers, and such.


He sat in his car a full minute or so before starting the engine. The look on his face pure satisfaction...his heart beating near 120bpm, a small drop of sweat rolled down his forehead despite the 60-degree morning.

AGain, a pit-worker came over to ask Graham if he would like a proper racing suit. We know his answer.



Finally, he pulled off! Revved up thru the first 4 gears till he was toying with about 100 mph as he entered the first left bank! While his car's front-end desperately tried to pull to the right high up on the banked wall(later on, Graham would learn this is called "understeer") he dug his fingers into the G20's rubbery steering wheel!

He entered a short straight area and decided he needed to be on the right-side of the track before plunging into what looked like an S-turn area...SHIFTING INTO THIRD!!! SLIDING THE CAR SLIGHTLY FROM A GENTLE LEFT INTO A HARD RIGHT!!! Grhaam briefly chose 4th again before downshifting into 3rd for another (but shorter) right bank.

The next part was really interesting.

Remember, this is supposed to be Graham's very first lap here at Red Rock (even tho it's technically my 400th or so )

As he left the right bank, he drove a straight area and shifted up into 4th....his "lattefier" drink falling now out of its cup-holder onto the passenger-side floor, but Grhaam was too pre-occupied to notice

Now he was in a looong right bank!!! For a second, he had a flashback. Playing marbles as a kid wiht his pack of buddies, they would sometimes roll marbles down the street jsut to see how long it would take, and whose marble would meet the curb first. "How long would it take if i rolled a marble on THIS bank?" Graham said aloud, his mind in another dimension

Again,he fought with his car's steering before entering a tunnel area! Cool. This was a very cool track. Graham wondered why any driver (NASCAR or otherwise) would be so intimidated by such a cool trak!

But his musing was short-lived. Up ahead was anothre S-turn area...this one much trickier than the previous one on the other side of the track (in Grahsm's mind, it seemed like a week agao that he actually drove thru the first S-area, even tho it was really only 30 seconds or so)

He BRAKED HARD BEFORE JAMMING THE GEARSHIFT INTO 3RD!!! shunting thru a right/left dance...his car's tires SMOKING to his delight!

Graham got a total of (again) 6 laps...his times falling each time by tenths of a second (which seemed inconsequential to Graham, but later on the track marshall explained that these small amounts of time were as good as GOLD...tenths of a second could make-or-break a driver's win).

By now, all pit workers had pretty much stopped what they were doing to watch the "mad businessman" do his thing! On the 6th lap, the G20's Check Engine Light flashed on, to Graham's chagrin. Being a car-owner (and a high-brow car owner at that) now for 15 years, he HATED check-engine lights! The mystery they entailed....could it be an important coolant sensor gone bad? Or did i leave my gas cap on too loose again? Eitehr way it cost $49.95 just to have it scanned at the Land Rover dealership!

But after having his car scanned via its OBD connection hidden under the steering wheel, Graham learned it was nothing serious. Just an O2 sensor getting over-cooked with carbon. Other than the "sports" package air-filter and muffler system, his G20's engine was still stock, after all....it wasn't designed to be driving at 100+ miles-per-hour and near 7,000 rpms! And Graham had been "redlining" it (another new term for him) thru vast portions of the track.

Well, much to his satisfaction, he learned his G20 would be taken care of with plenty time before the race. A new sensor would be screwed in, and light suspension tuning would be done. Fearing a problem with overheating, he tipped one of the pit-workers extra money so he would also have his coolant switched to a hi-temp blend!

But graham now knew a few things perhaps the other drivers wouldnt.

1. Most of the track would be taken at full-throttle .

2. You only needed to brake in just 2 areas of the track (before both S-turns)...2 other sharp turns could be taken with no brakes if you kept a good "racing-line" (another new term for Mr. Wellington)

3. Besides the start, he could do the entire track in just 3rd and 4th gear! He might need 5th down that long straight

....but other than this, Grham patted himself on the back.....he felt proud.

THE RACE​

Unlike Tahiti and Japan, the scene behind-the-scene at Red Rock Speedway was simply chaotic. Drivers getting in the wrong cars. Tension, nerves, and even a frightened nurse (who passed out before the race began). A fight broke out between a crew-worker and a ghetto-looking driver.

Due to all this chaos, shouting, and such, Graham didn't get much of a chance to meet the other drivers he'd be racing against. Nor did he even have much time to properly consult his laptop.


At the start, a green Audi TT coupe sat in pole-position, followed in second by a small, handsome, silver roadster with a beige top Graham had never seen before (he later learned it was a Chrysler concept car...a "PT Spyder" nice). Another TT (this one white) started in 3rd, followed by a green funny-looking car (Subaru SVX). And to his right sat a red late-model Mustang...its driver a big, muscular jock-looking guy who nodded his head at Graham, and then laughed (did i jsut see a guy wearing a shirt & tie in there? he thought)

AND THEY'RE OFF!!!!

Again, Graham kept a straight line while other drivers veered to the right. He held it in 1st gear, redlining before shifting to 2nd, pulling hsi baby for all it was worth!..Around into the first bank, Graham kept his car low...riding next to the green TT!! While other drivers fought off understeer, Grahm's G20 moved slowly from


4th place....



to 3rd...to

2ND!!



As he left the long bank, he now followed the funny Subaru into the fisrt set of S-turns!!

OUT-BRAKED THE SUBARU!!! and down****ted into 3rd!! His car 's engine was no redlining again!! Hope that damn light won't come on!!!!

After the S-turn, Graham was able to get over to the left-side of the track, fully prepared to enter the next right with no brakes, jamming into 3rd (just as he had in practice) ...a full half-second or so ahead of the Subaru....

...but uh-oh!! He did the next long bank well, but it didn't matter! The Subaru behind him wound up understeering into a wall, but 3 other cars (both Audis and the red Mustang) were CLOSING IN!!

Thru the tunnel, Graham sat forward...gripping the wheel! As the stragglers closed in.

He BRAKED HARD before rushing into the second deadly S-turn! Behind him, the Audi/Mustang/Audi consortium slid hard thru the sand and into a retaining wall on the right!!! GRAHAM WAS IN THE CLEAR!!!



Down the straight, now the funny-looking Subaru somehow snuck back, followed by the cute Chrysler roadster...Grahm shifted out of 3rd into 4th, and held it for all it was worth!!!

Down the long staight into Lap 2, he was "slipstreamed" (geez, he didn't know of all these terms!) by the heavy Subaru, but the much-ligher Chrysler roadster NOW PASSED both ON THE RIGHT! Slingshotting into first place with ease!!dang!!

Into the first bank, the G20's rear bumper was nudged by the SVX. Graham had no choice but to position himself behind the Chrysler, but couldn't get as low into the turn as he wanted because one of the Audis was (again) back on his tail. He was forced to go high onto the bank...understeering till he nearly rubbed the wall! This turned out to be okay...despite his predicament, the G20 somehow tiptoed into 1st place again before leaving the bank!!! TIRES SQUEALING WITH HIGH-PITCH!!

Into the S-turn, Graham braked hard again....and downfhifted into 3rd like an expert!! His car's hungry 2.0g now redlining for all it was worth! Was his enjoying any of this? Grham didn't know....but for sure, whoever owned the car before Graham would be shocked by what it was now going thru! Suburban life in the plaza? That was now light-years behind!

Thankfully, in the next few banks, Graham kept his lead! While the othres struggled behind him...sliging into sand!! Getting sideways! LIke the amateurs they are!!!!

towards the end, the G20 was followed by the funny-looking Subaru...this 2nd-place driver watched as Graham PULLED HIS E-BRAKE and got int a near-spin before claiming his win!!! :

 

[killer450235]

OMG TEH PWNAGE!111

No seriously great story

 

[Aremburgkerve]

Wow, this story just goes from strength to strength Parnelli, I'm seriously gripped by everything that happens! And now you've left us with the race just having started....cliffhanger or what? Seriously, well done, awesome story. 👍 👍

Joe

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Oh my god, i'm so embarassed! Jeez, look at all those typos!! See, this is what i was saying sort of....i get all excited and there goes the grammar & spelling! I'm afraid to go back & edit because everytime i try to do so, all those nifty pictures wind up turning into "ATTACHMENTS"

So there it is folks...warts and all!!! I gotta eat now! Dinner time for Parnelli!

 

[blazing escudo]

Oh my god, i'm so embarassed! Jeez, look at all those typos!! See, this is what i was saying sort of....i get all excited and there goes the grammar & spelling! I'm afraid to go back & edit because everytime i try to do so, all those nifty pictures wind up turning into "ATTACHMENTS"

So there it is folks...warts and all!!! I gotta eat now! Dinner time for Parnelli!

yeah,i know.Even some excellent masterpiece sometimes have problem like what happen to you recently.
And that's was racing supposed to be. 👍

 

[Parnelli Bone]

This is my favorite.

OUT-BRAKED THE SUBARU!!! and down****ted into 3rd!! His car 's engine was no redlining again!! Hope that damn light won't come on!!!!

I meant to say down-shifted, but instead typed a bad word! oops.

 

[LeGeNd-1]

Yeah I noticed that too. I lol'd so hard at that .

 

[TheBook]

Saw that, too... thought Graham broke a tranny or something when I read it. Of course, I have a hard time thinking and laughing at the same time.

 

[Falcon787B]

hahahaa, thats great. I can imagine the ricer brigade adapting that as 'street slang'

 

[Parnelli Bone]

The thing is, i did the actual race last week and saved it on a memory card.

What i didn't know is you apparently can't pause a saved replay. YOu can pause a replay just after you do a race, but you can't pause the replay once it's been saved on a memory card.

So i had to keep restarting the replay...writing what happened in the race, and then pressing "start" (which won't pause the replay, instead it just makes you go back to the replay theatre) writing some more, restarting the replay from scratch and then waiting till i get to the part i didn't write about yet...writing like mad (while watching the replay and misspelling words because i'm not actually reading what i'm writing). "pausing" again...and so on.

And then i wanted to edit at least some of the content, but every time i tried, i kept losing my pictures! they'd go from looking like picuters to turning into "attachments".

i'm just telling you guys all this so you don't go thru the same frustrations as i did if you want to post pictures or write about a replay you saved at some point.

 

[Falcon787B]

Nah thast cool Parnelli. Thats an advantage of running it on PC - not that anyone does of course But it just allows you to have Fraps on and have your finger hovered over the "take screenshot" button so you can grab the shots when you want.

 

[Parnelli Bone]

CHAPTER X​

The man at the desk was....back at his desk. The ink pen, massage balls, phone, and a blank flat-panel computer screen were there, however, now a new item sat before him: an old Leicra, perfect condition...a treasure he had located awhile back at an auction. The man at the desk was an avid collector of such items; a bit of a stereotype perhaps, considering his origin, but the heart wants what it wants.

It was the end of the day, and again, he sat back in his chair musing about the day's chaos. But now was not the time to think of chaos, so instead, he closed his eyes, breathed in deep, and counted his heartbeat.

1...2....3.....4...5....6....7....

and he exhaled, again counting his heartrate as he could feel it softly throughout his body...

1....2.....3....4....5....6...7...8....9...10..11....12...13...14

and inhaled again.

1..2..3...4...5...6...7...8.......9.....

and exhaled, again counting his heart.

1...2...3....4...5...6...7...8...9.....10....11.....12....13........14......15......16.....17.......18........

....and inhaled again.

As time passed, the man at the desk could feel his heartrate slow a bit, and eventually he stopped counting. His mind shifted from the energies (the people, schedules, faxes, etc) he encountered that day to ..anything else, so long as it was calming.

His mind was now free. His body energized..not by a latte or drugs or food, but by tapping into a sacred reservoir even he didn't fully understand.

He breathed in deep, and opened his mind. Guided by an unseen force which he (nonetheless) truely believed in.

 

[Parnelli Bone]

CHAPTER XI​

What would it be like to have an entire stadium of people cheering for you?

If Graham were in a rock band, this incredible, overwhelming feeling would be shared amongst his band-mates. If he were a ball player, it would be shared with about 20 to 40 others amongst his team (depending what sport we're talkin about). But here at Red Rock Speedway, the crowd was cheering...for HIM! And ONLY him! Now that was special. Overwhelming but special. As Graham pulled off to the side of the track near the winner's circle area, you'd think Gandhi or President Kennedy had just shown up. Not some second-rate lawyer!

The fact was, Graham wasn't the only winner that week at Red Rocks, there were several others. But the truth was he was the only winner people remembered.

He was the only one who bounced from his car wearing a starched white shirt and cranberry-colored tie, as if he were off to the office instead of about to accept a win in front of several thousand fans. If he were in downtown Seattle or Redmond or about a million other urban areas, he would be nobody to look at...just another white-collar professional dressed and groomed like so many others. But here? People stood in their seats, craning their necks to get a gaze at the man in the shirt and tie as he stepped away from his sedate blue sedan to accept his win. Who the hell is that? Why is he dressed like a businessman and not a race-car driver?

People had cheered for other drivers when they won, but it seemed Graham got a little extra. EVERYONE was cheering and smiling at him, but also looking at him funny, as if he were naked or something.

As Mr. Wellington neared the winner's circle (located across from the start-finish line) he suddenly was taken aback. There were 2 bimbos...one blonde and one a redhead, holding what looked to be a big bottle of something in their hands. Graham didn't know much about the world of racing, but he did know what was about to happen.


"ahhhh, no girls....see i got this shirt pressed just last nite."

"don't worrry, we'll be gentle" they promised.

🤬! With at least couple thousand fans gazing at him (and several thousand more watching his image on a series of billboard-sized screens posted at key locations around the huge track), Graham had no choice but to get totally soaked by the bimbs. Oh well, he had just won $7,000 for just 2 laps of racing...i think he can afford a new suit.

As he got soaked and the crowd of several thousand fans went wild, Graham couldn't help but do some quick calcuations in his head. Always thinking of the bank, he now figured...


$7,000

that's $3,500 per lap!

that's $1,750 per wheel!

Then he calculated the original cost of his vehicle against the money he just won. Then he calculated the original cost of his vehicle versus the cost of the parts he had installed.

...and on and on...

Only a true yuppy would be thinking of money while getting sprayed by 2 Playboy-caliber stunners. That would be Graham.

The win and mahem after the win was just the beginning of course. Everyone wanted to shake his hand. Good thing he remembered to bring his "soapless" alcohol hand-cleaner swabs so he wouldn't get all their germs, too! Well like it or not, Graham was now famous, with all the perks but also all the rigors and embarassments to come.

Now he was subjected to a televised interview for the post-race win by yet another stunning lady with brunette tresses. Graham enthusiastically stepped up to what would later become his nemesis.



Interviewer: "So you WON!" (crowd cheers in background) THis SUnday Cup is YOURS!" she said, handing Graham a giant silver trophy. "What's it like? How do you feel?"

Graham: "I feel GREAT!"

Interviewer: "Well you look great! Like you're off to the office! Just like another yuppy scum off to make a buck right? Off to...bring in the bacon. Off to make those donuts!"

Graham: "you can say that again! Matter of fact, how about you...say that again? Yup, i like money. Don't we all?"

That was the beginning. Despite the nonchalance of the 30-second interview before the crowds, drivers, and workers, it was this interview that started it all. Before the world, Graham Wellington had just become nil. He would now be known in the tabloids as "Yuppy Scum".





After all that , Graham really wanted to just get the hell out of Phoenix. Yes, he was now a Sunday Cup winner with a promising career ahead of him (if he wanted it), but he was also still a dad. A family man with a wife, 2 children and a huge sheep dog. And he still had a job. Maybe. He wasnt sure how all this would pan out, since by now Tiffany had definately spoken with his firm, questioning them to the point that they now possibly considered him a "liability". Rather than an asset. He had done enough possible "damage" to his everyday life, perhaps. Time to get home...face the music. As it were.

There was an all-night party for the drivers and crew reserved at the local Rusty Scupper seafood restaurant, but Graham declined.

He really wanted now to drive from Phoenix to Redmond rather than fly. He could go fast, too. Problem was, his car, being a racing vehicle with basically no street-legal paperwork to speak of, since he had the Seattle car-dealership "lose" it all so he could hide his embezzlement scam, was unfit to drive. Plus, towards the end of the Red Rock race, the G20 also devleoped a nasty vibration in its steering wheel (later found to be caused by a tie-rod bushing gone bad) and needed servicing.

After the Sunday Cup, GT had organized that drivers would go to Europe to drive in the next set of events, known as the ""Clubman Cup". Which Graham was particularly looking forward to since he had never been to Europe, but wanted to go there since many of his lawyer buddies had on vacation.

But now he was flying home (rather than driving). After downing a couple martinis on the plane (First Class, and all-expenses paid by GT! 👍) he began to sweat. He had simply thrown his shirt, tie, and slacks away after being soaked with champagne. And was now wearing another shirt, tie, and slacks. But he was sweating a tad. In his mind....what to tell Tiffany? What to say to his boss? How would he squirm out of this one?

AFter running a comprehensive, simulated computer program that combined human behaviour with external guaranteed possibilities he had written partially himself, Graham finally smiled, sitting back in his chair with satisfaction. He had done it!!! The perfect lie!! All this time it had been sitting right in front of him!! He had used this computer progam before to simulate how a jury would find his defendant, but he had never tried it on his own wife before! After plugging in all the pertinant coordinates (32 year-old white female, suburban, wife with 2 kids, etc), and then combining these coordinates with possible reactions to even more coordinates about himself, the results were just ....PERFECT! If he could say so himself.

It was all there! With help from his computer, he realized the supplemental implications garnered from combining article XII of the "modulation quorum" in 0.12 par-field studies virtually guaranteed a dayster-sub/forum within abulfribluation 12-B!!! It meant Graham had a alibi for the time he was gone racing! It exlained everything!! His wife would be pleased! He would be a hero at work! He was IN THE CLEAR!! As it were.

His lie was perhaps one of the most perfect lies ever concocted by a white suburban male!!! George Costanza couldn't come up with a better one! George Bush? Dick Cheney? Those guys were playing with matches in a bathroom for litle boys as far as Graham was concerned!

The more he thougt about it, the more Graham became fascinated with it. He wished he could enter this lie into a contest...with other liars from around the globe! A "liar's Olympics", perhaps! Surely he would win! But of course, he would never find out how good it was... since liars traditionally and typically tried to hide as best they could the fact they were lying! But still, this one was a doozy. If lies were paintings, this one would be equivalent to something by one of the masters! A Monet of lies, or perhaps a Renior! He sat back smugly in his chair, barely able to keep still as the lady next to him rolled her eyes at the well-dressed man squirming in his seat. He coudln't wait to tell this one to his boss and his wife! He thought about htis lie over and over, like a kid who can't wait home to play a new toy.

...but it turns out none of this would happen. None of this would pan out. he would never get to use his masterpiece! and all this energy would simply rot in his brain as it festered with its evil-ness.

 

[Falcon787B]

Haha, massivly entertaining as always Parnelli. I like the intregue thats sneaking into the story. And its almost like a superhero..."Graham Wellington was no more...in his place, YUPPY SCUM!!" (theme music)

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Haha, massivly entertaining as always Parnelli. I like the intregue thats sneaking into the story. And its almost like a superhero..."Graham Wellington was no more...in his place, YUPPY SCUM!!" (theme music)

Thanks man! Yeah, you'll be surprised at what's to come! I gots more to tell.

Helps that it's really slow at work today . We have like 4 months of back-receipts that i'm scanning into the computer...and i'm writing the story in between scans!

 

[EA11R]

Basically, this is utterly fantastic. Well done, Parnelli. I love it.

 

[blazing escudo]

i have to admit,I LOVE IT!!!!
That's...........TERIFFIC!!!
I'M SPEECHLESS!!
Sorry,it's a bit too much!
BTW,great job Parnelli,as usual

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Yea i like the part where he gets sprayed by champagne. I can see it almost like it's a movie. And then i can see him sitting in first class (rather than coach because he won) getting hammered on martinis, crafting the perfect lie. The next parts should be just as funny i hope.

i actually talked to my dad for half-an-hour for research purposes, since he's been to Europe as an adult quite a bit, and i havne't been there since i was 17.

 

[TMM]

i actually talked to my dad for half-an-hour for research purposes, since he's been to Europe as an adult quite a bit, and i havne't been there since i was 17.

Good story and enjoying it so far. Let me know if you need any info regarding Europe, lived there for 36 years.

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Good story and enjoying it so far. Let me know if you need any info regarding Europe, lived there for 36 years.

OH believe me, i will hit you up, then. In my game, i always used to think Apricot Hill and Trail Mountain were in England.

 

[TMM]

OH believe me, i will hit you up, then. In my game, i always used to think Apricot Hill and Trail Mountain were in England.

I always think of Apricot Hill as being in the US but Trail Mountain I always thought of as local, don't know if that is a hangover from GT1 UK Versus races or not. There certainly are roads like that in the UK, sometimes worse with a big drop on the side and just a little barrier between you and the drop. Great racing though.