Parnelli's GT2 stories.
- Thread starter Parnelli Bone
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- Parnelli_Bones
- 10,557
- Columbia, MD.
- Parnelli_Bones
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- Bogor
Eh,no updates?
I hope this one not abandoned yet.
Parnelli,still alive,are you?
I hope this one not abandoned yet.
Parnelli,still alive,are you?
- 10,557
- Columbia, MD.
- Parnelli_Bones
CHAPTER XII
So to recap. Graham "Yuppy Scum" Wellington, father of 2 children, married to Tiffany Wellington, is doing well as one of the hottest new drivers in the Gran Turismo 2 series. But his personal life is falling apart at the seams, and he's unsure whether to keep his job as an attorney.
"The point of power lies in secrecy".
This was a famous quote made by some philosopher from Graham's college days, but he couldn't remember by whom. Graham never forgot this quote, and it certainly applied now. Although a gregarious, talkative man, an often argumentative man, Graham was famous for keeping at least some of the cards "off the table". Which is to say he always tried to keep the upper hand, an important skill for a lawyer.
After he had ascertained (hmmm ascertained...now there's a nice, lawyerly word
) how much his wife would possibly know, and how she would react as he walked thru the door, via use of his specialized profiling program, Graham felt more confident. Before stopping back home, he took a cab to Home Crepot, and used the family credit card (well...one of the family credit cards) to make a down-payment on a brand-new Toro lawnmower...one of the types you RIDE, rather than push. He had always wanted one but could never justify the cost. But now, after winning $14,000 in a matter of weeks, he felt confident about the future. Winning this much money in so short a time usually has taht sort of effect, after all. He would take delivery of his new lawnmower (one of the ultimate goals of suburban yuppydom) later when he could have it delivered to his home. The idea of purchasing this expensive vehicle was a bit of a security blanket...seemed to calm his nerves a bit. Women buy clothes and interior decorating stuff. Men buy tools and machines.
As he neared his home, his version of the "truth" ready for a good spew like vomit in a trash can, little did Graham know his WIFE wouldn't be such a big problem after all.
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CHAPTER XIII
"DAD! YOU ARE IN BIG BIG TROUBLE!!!" Princess screamed as he opened the door, her arm covered with friendship bracelets, her face accusing.
Taken aback by his daughter's sudden accusation, Graham had no idea what to say. After all, he had just spent roughly three hours on the plane in front of his laptop, calculating odds, figuring his WIFE's possible behavior....he had not thought it would be his DAUGHTER that would be a problem. And she apparently was, with her arms crossed and her eyes glaring. Graham could lie to his wife, he could "bend the truth", tell white fibs, whatever...but he could not get this done in front of his daughter...precious little Princess.
Now he was caught.
"Wh- wha-" he stammered for just a moment before regaining some of his composure. For just an instant, Graham had a rather obscene thought: "I hope i NEVER have to face this babe in court"...
But he regained composure. "This must be Tiffany's doing", he thought. Gotta be. Sure. Tiffany passed on some sort of story to Princeess to try and explain what was really going on with dad. Which means she certainly got some of the facts wrong. In just a few moments, Graham would have this all cleared up with his daughter. This means he'd have to lie to his own spawn. Not a problem.
Tiffany's SUV, a gynormously ridiculous GMC Yukon which got roughly 12 miles to the gallon around town (she was also a bit of a lead-foot, like her husband
), wasn't parked in the driveway. This means she wasn't home. Phew. Graham forced a quick jab of laughter...the same sort of laugh he'd conjure up if he were in front of a jury and wanted to amuse them.
"Now honey, what's this all about? Are we having a rough day at school?"
"What's THIS about?" Princess accused shrilly, pushing a manila folder into his arms before running off to her room and slaming the door!!!
Graham stood nonplussed. His new jacket slumping off his shoulder and onto the floor. Manilla folder? What could this be? Dang.
He opened the folder. Inside were a set of 8-1/2x11 pages, with a story from an online Arizona news website detailing his recent win at Red Rock Speedway. How in hell Princess got a hold of this story, he didn't have a clue. But one thing for sure: when it comes to kids and computers, NEVER underestimate. Graham was pretty good with computer programs, but his daughter was damn-near a genius.
The front page showed a picture of Graham getting soaked with champagne by those 2 fine ladies just after Graham accepted his win. DAMMIT!!!!!
"Princess! You get right here! Right now!!" Graham called up. In reply, Princess turned up her stereo, blasting Hanson down the stairs.
Well, it was no use. DDDDAmn. Dammit.
In response to all this, Graham hit the bottle. During times of stress, he sometimes needed a bit of comfort, after all...something to take his mind off his problems for a minute so he could FOCUS.
...I am talking, of course of the milk bottle.
Mmmm 100% Grade A homogenized & pasteurized whole milk. With cookies. Now that's a meal. After some time, Graham decided milk time was over. He had to go up to see his little spawn of Satan. I mean, of course she already knew the entire story by now....Graham could do nothing about that. But...more important....what did TIFFANY know?
"Honey, it's daddy. Open up!"
NO! she said.
Damn. Time to think.
"Princess-dear, let's talk about this."
Finally, Hanson stopped playing as a Pop Tart commercial blared from the stereo in her room.
Apparently, she was listening to the radio."There's nothing TO talk about!!! You were lying to mom. And I'M TELLING!!! You are soo gonna get it!!!!"
Hmmm. She's gonna tell mom, eh? Graham's mind spun. That must mean "mom" doesn't know yet. Instantly, Graham saw his opportunity. And wasted no time. Because when it came right down to it, this was all just a game of Chess. Mom was definately the Queen. Dangerous. Able to over-rule or command the Wellington household like an iron mitten. Graham, as the main breadwinner of the house, was the King. Princess was nothing but a pawn. But pawns can be dangerous, of course, just like Queens and Kings.
"Honey, please. Let's talk about this. what can i do to change your mind? Would you like concert tickets? I hear Christina Aguliera is coming to the Arena next month."
"NOOO!!!!!"
DAMMT!!!
"Ice skates!! New ice skates!!! With tassles on them!!!"
"NOOOOOO!!!"
DaNN.
Gotta think, Grammy. AH HAH!!"Jenny. Jenny Bones. You wanted Jenny Bones tickets, now here's your last chance"
The stereo (now playing Mandy Moore
) finally softened. Graham hit the jackpot!!!! As it were!! The door opened a crack, his obstinate daughter now peeking thru. Was that a look of triumph on her face? Or was it look of beguilment? Graham couldn't tell. "Jones, dad. Her name is Jenny Jones. Geez, you mess EVERYTHING up!!"
Problem solved.
Graham was ..."in the clear", once again, as it were.
As it turns out, Princess wanted to be a guest on the show, rather than a mere spectator sitting in the audience. Well many things might happen in the Wellington household, but going onstage acting like a tramp wan't going to be one of them! In the end, Graham got his daughter to promise NOT to tell mom about his new passion, this racing thing, and he promised he would get her tickets to Jenny soon. Phew.
With all that taken care of, he now retreated to his den, clicked on the news, somewhat exhausted. Within short notice, he got bored and took out his Gran Turismo paperwork, eager to find out what the next step would be. After completing the three Sunday Cup races, one would automatically be eligable to try and have a go at the three Clubman Cup races...two of which were to be held in Rome, and the third was to be in Switzerland.
The money would get better. That was the only thing Graham thought about as he drifted to sleep.
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- Parnelli_Bones
Chapter XIV: Daughter gets kicked out, soon followed by Graham.
Seriously, it's good seeing this story back.
👍 GraciasNEXT CHAPTER
After the Sunday Cup, drivers traditionally moved on to the Clubman Cup. This was a series of three races in the first era of Gran Turismo, and during this next era (GT2) it remained a series of three. Originally, it was thought by I.M. Reechasheet that the Clubman should be held at Autumn Ring, Special Stage Route 5 (an area of unfinished freeway overpasses, off-ramps, and a tunnel located in Vancouver B.C., Canada), and a track in a mountainous location called "Trail Mountain". These were the tracks the Clubman had been held at when Gran Turismo was in its first incarnation. But I.M. wanted something more...more exposure worldwide. He looked to various countries in Europe for several months before finding his final locations.
Franceso Butelli, Rome's mayor, wanted to introduce something new to the city of Rome. Although tourism wasn't hurting, Francesco introduced several ideas to city council members, some controversial and some not. Among the most controversial of measures would be a "Festiva di Automobile", not exactly a motor show, but more of a street-racing venture. Originally, the idea was to hold this race on the outskirts of town in a quieter district (ha) of Rome, but this didn't pan out. It seemed no matter where Franceso wanted it to be, zoning or some local ninny would intefere.
Finally, a big-shot deacon in charge of city tourism came up with (what seemed to be) a great idea, amenable to all. The race would be held right smack-dab in the Colosseum district on Sundays, when traffic would be lightest in this area. Races could be held for half-a-day, which would leave the Colosseum free for plenty of late-afternoon sightseers. These races would start as two-lap sprints, but eventually (as money rolled in) longer races would also be held. It took 6 months of legal wrangling before the idea was even a possibility, and by then, one of I.M. Ricasheet's European promotional scouts had discovered Franceso's street-racing venture idea, and had successfully amended the original Mayor's contracts to include Gran Turismo's ever-expanding empire.
Despite the Mayor's enthusiasm, his "Festiva di Automobile" idea couldn't possibly have turned out to be a poorly-sponsored, disorganized, chaotic mess, had GT2's legal machine not rolled into town. With just over 3 years of racing, promotional, and spectator-accomodations experience, I.M. and his team made sure the project started as smoothly as possible.
Big business sponsorship ensued, which changed everything. AS it ususally does.
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- Parnelli_Bones
NEXT CHAPTER CONTINUED
"Daddy will you weed me a stowee?"
Graham jerked awake, almost knocking over a bottle of "vitamin water"! Dangit! He had fallen asleep after the encounter with his daughter (which he had pleasantly forgotten in about 5 minutes after sitting down in his easy chair). Now his son was standing before him, dressed in pajamas, demanding a story. Jeez, how old was his son? When would he grow out of this juvenile story-reading stage and progress towards full-scale videogaming for entertainment? Oh yeah..he was only seven.
Seven year-olds need stories read to them. 
As Graham got up, he mentally grumbled to himself. He had been having a daydream of his Infiniti G20 again.
....Flying along at 140 mph....
...chased by a couple TTs, a Mustang, and a cute little silver roadster that he forgot the make & model of...
Then his son walks in. Ruining everything
After a moment of helplessness, Graham feeling like he was naked or something, he finally grabbed one of his dusty old law books.
"Okay son. I'm going to read you a story." he said
Graham's son smiled up and sat on the rug indian-style, obviously pleased.
"This is the story of State versus Donald Donaldson. Case subject: Donald Donaldson is being remanded in his roll of a fiscal-substitute buyer for Ecuadorian...."
"NOOOOO DAD!!! WEED ME A STOWEE LIKE THE THWEE WITTEL BEARS!!! I WANT THWEE WITTEL BEARS!!!!"
Graham rolled his eyes.
Would it ever end?Later, after that fiasco was over, his son tucked away into bed, Graham went back to attacking his legal papers for the next stage of racing he would possibly do. Might do. Could he actually do it? Jeez, and it was in his dreams, now! It seems every waking moment, Graham was starting to catch himself thinking of the next time he'd be able to take the wheel of his Infiniti, mash its gas pedal, and make history. He was becoming downright obsessed!
Driving around town
Driving to his office at Baily, Binks, & Binklemeyer the next morning, Graham felt nonplussed with his Land Rover Discovery. Looking at all the traffic around him as it rushed up Route 5 towards Seattle one moment, and then slowed to a crawl the next in a traffic jam (overturned sausage truck), Graham realized how SLOW he usually drove! Even rushing out of his home, into his car, and then rushing thru the maze of suburban Redmond felt downright slow in comparison to FLYING on those banks at High Speed Ring and Red Rock Speedway!
Getting back in his Land Rover after all this activity was like going from a jet plane to a tricycle!
He felt no joy in it anymore. Going to work, he (finally, and unconsciously) found himself obeying some laws for a change. Tailgating nobody. Cutting nobody off. Although he didn't use his turn signals (some habits never die), yet still knew how to use his horn; overall, Graham took this morning drive at a more acceptable pace. He didn't truely have to go to work at this moment; but only wanted to make an appearance--to keep at least one of his feet planted in his old way of life just in case. He was in week 3 of his "vacation", and had just one week of official vacation time left. Things weren't so bad with Tiffany. She got home late the previous evening, Graham was passed out on the couch, one of his Kenny G CDs in "replay" mode
. Tiffany didn't raise a fuss. She was simply glad to have her husband back home (ahhhh), unaware of the future, and all the turbulence it would hold.
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SportWagon
Premium
- 1,822
- Punkeydoodles Corners, Ontario, Canada. (aka GT2t
The track is Trial Mountain, not Trail Mountain (IA, not AI). It's a mountain course on which you hold speed trials.
- 10,557
- Columbia, MD.
- Parnelli_Bones
Yea i know. I've been saying "Trail" for years as a habit.
- 107
- Bogor
come on,it's not that bad...
Right?
Good story,update more often,please?
(not so important)PS:my grandmother was passed away at April 30th,6.00 PM(GMT+7).May her soul rest in peace.Amen.
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Yea I will update soon; it's all in my head...just gotta find the time bla bla bla.
How old? Did she at least have a full, long life?
LeGeNd-1
Premium
- 7,264
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- GTP_LeGeNd-1
Trial Mountain has been mispelled countless times in this forum yet only now has someone bothered to correct it
. Anyway, no harm done, sometimes I also type Trail without knowing it .My sincerest condolences with you and with your family.
And to Parnelli: Keep up the good work 👍. Whenever I saw this thread updated it always puts a smile on my face
.
- 107
- Bogor
- 10,557
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- Parnelli_Bones
I apologize for slacking on this story folks. I PROMISE the next chapter will be the race. In the mean time...
Indecision, a touch of apathy, and a whole lot of guilt forced Graham to return to his job for a visit, even though his vacation had not ended. It seemed as if his entire world would soon change drastically if he indeed decided he would fly off to Rome. And now, returning to Bailey, Binks, and Bubblemeyer, various co-workers of his were thoroughly surprised to see him return early.
Graham's activities during this day happened as follows:
8:00-8:10 am:
he hung awkwardly around the water cooler, as it were, trying to make the usual small talk with various BBB employees.
8:10-8:59 am:
Graham wandered off to his office, smiling his usual smile, but feeling off-balance. His stomach twisted in knots. Once in his office, he closed the door, muttering to Joe (the current floor manager) he needed time alone to make some crucial decisions.
8:59-10:30 am:
Just before 9 o'clock, he realized he hadn't done a thing in his office, despite having his computer screen opened to "study" a case that had recently been dismissed while he had been in Japan. Despite his usual custom-tailored cup of Starbucks foam, he couldn't even focus. Kept losing train of thought. Just before 10:30, he looked down at a legal pad on his desk to find he hadn't accomplished a thing. Matter of fact, he had somehow managed to draw a crude picture of a mid-size sedan shown in profile on his pad without even realizing it. LInes were drawn along the side of this picture to suggest the car was speeding in motion. His 7-year old son could have drawn such a picture and done (arguably) a better job, but the point was clear. He wasn't getting any work done today. That much was clear.
Meanwhile, in the rest of the BBB offices, rumors abounded. Whispers from BBB employees behind Graham's back varied. Since various legal & secretarial workers knew portions of the actual story, mixed with some fables (as rumors often entail as they spin out of control), rumors about Graham's trips to Tahiti, Japan, and finally southwest USA had him pegged as a winner of "some contest", a car-racing driver, and a legal consul between a rich tycoon and his wife. Some theorized Graham was going off on his own to start a new law practice somewhere else. Some theorized Graham was losing his mind. Some theorized he was just bored and would soon return back to work. And some theorized (very incorrectly, of course) that he would soon be divorced, was moving to the south Pacific, and would try to take the kids with him!
10:30-10:42 am:
Feeling disconcerted, Graham wandered out of his office, nearly getting run over by Josh Bubblemeyer, son of one of the main partners. Josh was working as a paralegal....and was basically a paid intern who fetched coffee more often than he did actual legal work of any kind. This morning, he seemed in a hurry, carrying a thick folio along with a steaming cup of decaf for one of the big guys. Soon as he saw Graham, he stopped. Motioned Graham into a nearby stockroom in a hush-hush manner.
"I hear you're dissenting!" Josh claimed. "Take me with you! I want to sit at the Master's feet! And hopefully take a bite out of some ass rather than kisssing it all the time!!"
"Wow. That's what's the buzz around here?" Graham said and chuckled. "I'm not saying a word, dear Josh. You, and everyone else, will just have to wait and see..."
10:42 am-noontime:
Finally, Graham had had enough of BB&B business. He went back to his desk and started reading and studying the small stack of material (contracts, guidelines, and such) for the next phase in his new career.
Rome. The Holy city. He had never been to Rome, or to Europe.
But friends of his had, and usually only had good things to say.
The "Clubman Cup". Hmmmmm. What the hell was a "Clubman" anyways? More important...how much would it pay? The greed flared within his heart! MONEY!!! ....come to me....
As Graham searched for this pertinent information, he felt as a detective must feel looking for important clues to solve a case. The way a kid must feel in those weeks before Christmas (or Hannukah, or Kwanza, or ....you get the point) as he or she dwells on what presents and toys could possibly be in the future.
....and again, he found himself day-dreaming of that stupid car again.
How many hours would have to endure before he could see it again?
These thoughts & fantasies evaporated once Graham left his warm, efficient workplace and walked towards his Land Rover Discovery. His precious land-going SUV, which had been initially designed in part to take on tough safari roads (yet the toughest action Graham's ever saw was when it met a speed bump) had been egged!!!! Dried egg yolks and shell all over the hood! The passenger-side window! Not only that! Its tires were flat! ALL of them! Not only that! There was an anarchy symbol soap-written on his windshield! And on one of the back windows, the same "artist" used his (or her?) inate talents to soap-write the words "MODEST MOUSE SUX!!!"
AFter his initial anger died down (all of this could be taken care of after a quick call to triple A and detailing shop), and Graham had time to reflect, he realized what had just happened. Local anarchist punks had lately been doing horrible things to large SUVs such as his Discovery. He had simply been made a target. And he mused to himself.
"Modest Mouse Sux???" he said aloud. "What is the world coming to if even Disney is uncool?"
CHAPTER XII
Graham goes back to work for a visit
Graham goes back to work for a visit
Indecision, a touch of apathy, and a whole lot of guilt forced Graham to return to his job for a visit, even though his vacation had not ended. It seemed as if his entire world would soon change drastically if he indeed decided he would fly off to Rome. And now, returning to Bailey, Binks, and Bubblemeyer, various co-workers of his were thoroughly surprised to see him return early.
Graham's activities during this day happened as follows:8:00-8:10 am:
he hung awkwardly around the water cooler, as it were, trying to make the usual small talk with various BBB employees.
8:10-8:59 am:
Graham wandered off to his office, smiling his usual smile, but feeling off-balance. His stomach twisted in knots. Once in his office, he closed the door, muttering to Joe (the current floor manager) he needed time alone to make some crucial decisions.
8:59-10:30 am:
Just before 9 o'clock, he realized he hadn't done a thing in his office, despite having his computer screen opened to "study" a case that had recently been dismissed while he had been in Japan. Despite his usual custom-tailored cup of Starbucks foam, he couldn't even focus. Kept losing train of thought.
Just before 10:30, he looked down at a legal pad on his desk to find he hadn't accomplished a thing. Matter of fact, he had somehow managed to draw a crude picture of a mid-size sedan shown in profile on his pad without even realizing it. LInes were drawn along the side of this picture to suggest the car was speeding in motion. His 7-year old son could have drawn such a picture and done (arguably) a better job, but the point was clear. He wasn't getting any work done today. That much was clear. Meanwhile, in the rest of the BBB offices, rumors abounded. Whispers from BBB employees behind Graham's back varied. Since various legal & secretarial workers knew portions of the actual story, mixed with some fables (as rumors often entail as they spin out of control), rumors about Graham's trips to Tahiti, Japan, and finally southwest USA had him pegged as a winner of "some contest", a car-racing driver, and a legal consul between a rich tycoon and his wife. Some theorized Graham was going off on his own to start a new law practice somewhere else. Some theorized Graham was losing his mind. Some theorized he was just bored and would soon return back to work. And some theorized (very incorrectly, of course) that he would soon be divorced, was moving to the south Pacific, and would try to take the kids with him!
10:30-10:42 am:
Feeling disconcerted, Graham wandered out of his office, nearly getting run over by Josh Bubblemeyer, son of one of the main partners. Josh was working as a paralegal....and was basically a paid intern who fetched coffee more often than he did actual legal work of any kind. This morning, he seemed in a hurry, carrying a thick folio along with a steaming cup of decaf for one of the big guys. Soon as he saw Graham, he stopped. Motioned Graham into a nearby stockroom in a hush-hush manner.
"I hear you're dissenting!" Josh claimed. "Take me with you! I want to sit at the Master's feet! And hopefully take a bite out of some ass rather than kisssing it all the time!!"
"Wow. That's what's the buzz around here?" Graham said and chuckled. "I'm not saying a word, dear Josh. You, and everyone else, will just have to wait and see..."
10:42 am-noontime:
Finally, Graham had had enough of BB&B business. He went back to his desk and started reading and studying the small stack of material (contracts, guidelines, and such) for the next phase in his new career.
Rome. The Holy city. He had never been to Rome, or to Europe.
But friends of his had, and usually only had good things to say.The "Clubman Cup". Hmmmmm. What the hell was a "Clubman" anyways? More important...how much would it pay?
The greed flared within his heart! MONEY!!! ....come to me.... As Graham searched for this pertinent information, he felt as a detective must feel looking for important clues to solve a case. The way a kid must feel in those weeks before Christmas (or Hannukah, or Kwanza, or ....you get the point) as he or she dwells on what presents and toys could possibly be in the future.
....and again, he found himself day-dreaming of that stupid car again.
How many hours would have to endure before he could see it again? These thoughts & fantasies evaporated once Graham left his warm, efficient workplace and walked towards his Land Rover Discovery. His precious land-going SUV, which had been initially designed in part to take on tough safari roads (yet the toughest action Graham's ever saw was when it met a speed bump) had been egged!!!!
Dried egg yolks and shell all over the hood! The passenger-side window! Not only that! Its tires were flat! ALL of them! Not only that! There was an anarchy symbol soap-written on his windshield! And on one of the back windows, the same "artist" used his (or her?) inate talents to soap-write the words "MODEST MOUSE SUX!!!" AFter his initial anger died down (all of this could be taken care of after a quick call to triple A and detailing shop), and Graham had time to reflect, he realized what had just happened. Local anarchist punks had lately been doing horrible things to large SUVs such as his Discovery. He had simply been made a target. And he mused to himself.
"Modest Mouse Sux???" he said aloud. "What is the world coming to if even Disney is uncool?"
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- 3,948
- Sturgis, MI
- GTP_ty00123
"Modest Mouse Sux???" he said aloud. "What is the world coming to if even Disney is uncool?"
Never thought I would hear the name of that band coming out of your... excuse me, Graham's... mouth.
Great chapter, as always.
- 10,557
- Columbia, MD.
- Parnelli_Bones
Never thought I would hear the name of that band coming out of your... excuse me, Graham's... mouth.
Great chapter, as always.
Thanx, ty0123. Hope you got my little joke there...Graham is so out of touch, he gets Modest Mouse and Mickey Mouse confused.
That little tidbit about MM actually happend to me in real-life. My '88 Isuzu Trooper may not be a Land Rover Discovery, but one night I came out of the bars to find someone had written "Modest Mouse Sux" on the side of it.
The odd thing...nowhere on my truck is there a bumper sticker claiming me as a Modest Mouse fan! Someone just randomly wrote it for no reason, apparently! My truck has never been egged, tho, thankfully. Troopers (old ones, anyways) are acceptable to gutter punks for whatever reason.
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- Columbia, MD.
- Parnelli_Bones
CHAPTER XIII continued
Day 9-Took week off to do some work (remember when it was the other way around?) Then flew to Rome with family for some sight seeing and racing of course. Despite some cruppy driving (not enuff time for testing ͸⊸͸͸͸⊸ graham won the race. why do they drive such tiny cars there?
Noon-4 pm: The crippled Land Rover was towed to the Land Rover dealership while Graham cringed. Triple AAA didn't charge anything. He and Tiffany got several free tows a year thru Triple AAA.
Four new Michelins, on the other hand, cost just under $1,000, mounted & balanced. OUch. And that was after he used his Costco membership card to get a 10% discount! He parted ways another $300 to get the dried egg off his truck. 4 pm-5 pm: Land Rover & Graham back home, $1,300 poorer.
The only consolation is that Graham firmly believed with all his heart that he was going to soon be a millionaire sometime during the next few months. 5 pm: Dinner time in the Wellington household. Tonite was Friday. This meant it was pizza night.
During dinner, Graham awkwardly sat at the table, his eyes darting from Tiffany to Princess. Back to Tiffany. Back to Princess. He started to sweat. Tiffany (mom) seemed pleasant, though, as she rattled on an on about their son's latest soccer game, even though he didn't make any goals and his team lost 5-0.
Graham listened to all this with half-an-ear...expecting at any moment he would be cross-examined by the entire dinner table. But it never happened. Tiffany seemed simply happy her husband was back, he had gone to work, and was now back home. Sometime between his second and fourth piece of pepperoni, Princess and her brother started bragging about their upcoming holidays. EAster was coming! Graham had been so pre-occupied with himself as of late, he totally forgot about Easter! This meant the kids would be out of school for a week! This was a very important detail. Graham could technically start the Clubman races to suit his schedule, the kids would be off to Disneyland or wherever, and Graham could tackle Europe with less possible headaches in the near future.
Clubman races were to be held every other weekend in Rome early in the morning, while longer races would be held later in the afternoon. There was no deadline for when Graham could start the Clubman series, so he quickly decided he would try and schedule another "vacation" so he could go to Rome, but he wasn't sure what to do about his family. Should be be honest? Tell them everything? Or keep lying and being deceitful? Either way, here would be his upcoming schedule for the Clubman series.
1>. Fly to Rome. Race in Rome on some city streets near the Colisseum. (how could this be possible? Grahm wondered. Won't we run over tourists?)
2>. A race in Switzerland in a small mountain village with a funny name: "Grindelwald".
3>. BAck to Rome for some reason. The final Clubman event would be held here on a longer version of the same track near the Colisseum.
The Clubman seemed as if it would demand a much less hectic schedule than the Sunday series.
Fly to Rome like an orinary tourist. Passport and a light suitcase, perhaps. Hopefully he'd conquer Rome quickly so he could travel to Switzerland, which was just a few hundred miles away. This meant there would be no plane ride. Gran Turismo 2, inc. provided a free shuttlebus for drivers in the GT2 series. Could he possibly drive his G20 from Rome to Switzerland instead? He hoped so.
Switzerland. The name brought up images of lederhosen-wearing blondes named Helgar and Inga. Cheese. Skiing. The superficial ideas any ignorant American would think if he had never bothered to learn more deeply those cultures of other people.
Back to Rome again. Fly home. Three wins in a row? If Graham could manage wins at all three events in quick succession, he would be back home just a week later. He'd miss Easter vacation with the kids, of course. DAMN!
Dinner ended unceremoniously. PHew. After dinner, Graham went off to his study. Somehow, his daughter got there first. Standing before him, again, her arms were folded, her face glaring, her demeanor accusing. What NOW?
"Hi Princess! How's school?"
"Let me tell you something dad. YOU are not off the hook" Princess glared.
"Oh yea. Those Jenny Bones tickets. Dear, I've been so busy with work, getting re-acquainted with the Penske file, they completely slipped my mind...but I promise...
"Forget the tickets, dad. I know what you're supposed to be up to next."
DAMMIT!!!
"uH I uh..." Graham stammered. What the hell was she talking about????
"I only want one thing. Take me with you. I want to go to Europe. We just did a book report on the Roman Empire in Social Studies. And I WANT TO GO, dad! THis is non-returnable" Princess demanded and waltzed out of his office. "You shall give me an answer by tomorrow night at the latest, OR I'll spill everything."
Well how about that? Blackmailed by his own daughter!?! Stranger things could happen. Still, deep inside, father was suddenly and secretly impressed with daughter. She may wear multi-colored bows in her hair, but Princess was no wimp. Obviously Wellington Material, she was. She would grow up, and be just as much of a shark as her old man.
"HOney" Graham quickly got his bearings back "don't you know what you're doing? This is....this is...well, it's blackmail honey. You're essentially blackmailing your father. Not unlike Kurtzman versus Schneider....a case my..."
"...NON-RETURNABLE, DAD! This is NON-RETURNABLE!" She said and stalked out.
Graham thought for a moment. "That's non-NEGOTIABLE! Your'e supposed to say...ah...hell with it..."
DAngit! Now what??? Graham felt caught. By his own daughter. How could this be? Wasn't she just learning to ride a bike not long ago? OH wait, that was like 4 years ago....
Sometime in the next couple hours, as husband and wife sat on the bed waiting for Leno to come on TV, Graham finally caved in.
Who the hell did he think he was, anyways? He couldn't do this! He couldn't quit his promising job to follow some sudden, childish fantasy! Thsi was madness!!!
During a commercial for a Dodge Ram, he gave up. Screw all this! He would return to work tomorrow. There would be no trip to Rome or Europe. That was it! This was final!With these thoughts, it seemed an incredible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Tiffany sat next to him, her hair in some weird contraption, and Graham finally felt at peace.
MONDAY MORNING
And as if nothing had happened during the previous weeks, Graham kept his promise. Returned to work. A "lattefier" Starbucks drink in his hand along with a big box of donuts for the office. His palm was pumped and his back was clapped by so many other starch-suit wearing co-workers, Graham got momentarily annoyed. Just after Phillip Miglas offered to "high-five" Graham, he had enough. Went to his office. Back to work! High Ho! High Ho!
8:00-8:10 am:
Yes!!! Back home! Graham looked at his maple-wood desk. His mighty little set of mechanical pencils, professionally arranged in a row by his secretary (what's her face?). His Mac's screen aleady glowing with life! He looked out the window. A twelfth-story view, far above the sidewalk. In the distance, a view of downtown Seattle. Yup. Good to be home.
8:11-10:30 am
He over-eagerly delved into the Penske file
. He'd show that Penske to mess around with land appropriations comittees!! Measure III of the new 1999 Worth/Meister Task-Pamphlet guideline would virtually guarantee this would happen!10:30 48.380 am
Yikes. Something was wrong, drastically wrong!
10:31 23.891 am
Graham realized he was bored. bord bored bored BORED BORED AWWWWW SO BORED!!!!!
10:31 23.892 am
Phew. He calmed down. What the hell was that????
Graham didn't know it, but he had just had an anxiety attack.
10:31 23.893 am-5 pm:
Graham slugged thru the rest of Monday with fits and starts. Sometimes, he felt the old Wellington eagerness, at others, completely bored out of his mind. How could he have done this as a living for the last ten years?
5 pm-5:30 pm:
Commute home. Graham lost in thought.
He drove like he did previously....with a lackluster attempt. Nearing the exit to Redmond, he nearly rear-ended a small, foreign hatchback, he was so lost in thought. 5:31 pm:
"Home honey I'm high!" he yelled as he entered his home and the sheep dog tried to knock him over as usual. "Home honey I'm high" was an old joke between him and his wife dating back to their college days. Those of you who aren't familiar, the phrase is supposed to go "Hi honey I'm home!"
6 pm-6:30 pm:
Dinner again. Everything seemed cool. Princess kept looking at father, a smug smile in place, but said nothing. It didn't matter. Little did she know father had drastically changed course over the last 24 hours.
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SportWagon
Premium
- 1,822
- Punkeydoodles Corners, Ontario, Canada. (aka GT2t
What do those funny symbols mean?
- 10,557
- Columbia, MD.
- Parnelli_Bones
The black lettering in small font is my original notes that I jotted down before and after racing, and in these original notes, I scratched out a word or two and I'm not sure what I wrote.
I'm not sure how to make a strike-out here at GTP, so I substituted those blocks instead. I'm not even done this dumb chapter! Keep getting interrupted here at work...
- 423
- 10,557
- Columbia, MD.
- Parnelli_Bones
Thanks everyone. HYBRIDLVR, what a surprise! 
And thanks to AAZ, I'm sure i'll be using that strikeout feature.
Man, so I kinda screwed up. Forgot you need a B license to finish the final Clubman at Rome, and I wnated to incorporate Graham stuggling with license tests into this story. Anyways, later today....I'll get over to the first race at Rome, at least.
After dinner, Princess smugly cornered Graham in his study. Expecting her blackmailed father to cower and fold (the way she got him to fold last summer when she wanted to go to her first concert--Everclear & Foo Fighters--the previous summer) but this was to no avail.
"So....have you got me a ticket to Europe yet?" Princess demanded.
"No. Because I'm not going! And you're not going! So there! I've decided my priorities lie here. 10222 West Ashton Street, Remond, Washington, U. S. A. Keeping food on the table. Being a boring family man. And you shall..." He couldn't finish the sentence before...
"But...but but....ARRRRRGH!!!!" pRINCEss stormed out of the room. Slammed the door of her room so hard Graham could have sworn the actual foundation of hte house shook.
The next morning. Everything was in order. Graham parked his Discovery across the street in an all-day multi-level parking garage (couldn't fathom the thought of parking on the street anymore, which might draw another anarchist attack on his precious SUV), made a mental note of what level he parked on, and waltzed off to the office with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.
All of this changed once he made it to his office. He opened the computer screen, from which his AOL account was proudly claiming "You got Mail". AOL account? Did Graham have an AOL account? He didn't think he did. Thank the lord for Scan Wizard. Hopefully this wasn't some bug or worm.
Opening the mail (oddly, there was no password) Graham found the following message:
Subject Clubman Cup: Gran Turismo Racing Incorporated -- Change header --- Standard Header Full Header
Sent Date 04-20-2000 9:37:54 AM
From
Counterpart GT2/European Consortium <address encrypted
>
To graham_wellington@aol.com
Dear Sir.
This is to inform you that your late model '91 Infiniti G20 has arrived in Rome and has passed all required regulation checks. The G20 is currently located in our holding area, located in the Bastion district, Ave d'Maria 67. Telefon 011-7-228-18308.
Confirmation has it that you will be arriving soon? Gran Turismo Clubman Cup racing can start whenever you desire, however, our holding area is limited to about 100 cars. So, the sooner the better. Though technically you can start this series at your whim, we have had a small problem with garage thievery.
Please make the proper arrangements by calling the above number or sending us a properly secured email soon.
~Regards, Gran Turismo 2 staff.
Despite his new-found promises, the email stirred his soul. DAngit!
Throughout the rest of the week, Graham meandered thru the Penske file. He was right in his original assumption, Measure III of the new 1999 Worth/Meister Task-Pamphlet guideline did apply, which means a supplication-passage of the Findersund Grant would make things obsolete for ol' Penske by 2003. That is, if Penske did not assume localization of Maniten Service laws. Phew. An easy case if Graham ever had one to process! How could those sharks be so blind?
Still, things felt unresolved. Graham was so out-of-sorts, he began making small, embarrassing mistakes, like the time he placed an Aptitude Claim out into Docket 4-B. Nobody did that unless they wanted a week-long return since the underlings would be slower to pick this claim from the docket. Embarassing stuff. He was losing it?
Wednesday was "hump day" at the office, which could only mean one thing: lunch time at Bennigans! Most attorneys stuck doing office-drudgery work (instead of representing actual clients in real-world courts) would be expected to have lunch at Bennigan's. The mood would lighten a bit. It was during this lunch break that Graham said to himself "screw it, I've earned another vacation. Rome...here I come", and called the number from the email. 💡 School would be closed next week, the kids would be off.
But he couldn't just take himself to Rome. He couldn't just take just Princess either.
"HONEY, WE'RE GOING TO ROME NEXT WEEK! PACK THE BAGS AND TELL THE KIDS!"
And thanks to AAZ, I'm sure i'll be using that strikeout feature.Man, so I kinda screwed up. Forgot you need a B license to finish the final Clubman at Rome, and I wnated to incorporate Graham stuggling with license tests into this story.
Anyways, later today....I'll get over to the first race at Rome, at least. CHAPTER XIII continued
After dinner, Princess smugly cornered Graham in his study.
Expecting her blackmailed father to cower and fold (the way she got him to fold last summer when she wanted to go to her first concert--Everclear & Foo Fighters--the previous summer) but this was to no avail."So....have you got me a ticket to Europe yet?" Princess demanded.
"No. Because I'm not going! And you're not going! So there! I've decided my priorities lie here. 10222 West Ashton Street, Remond, Washington, U. S. A. Keeping food on the table. Being a boring family man. And you shall..." He couldn't finish the sentence before...
"But...but but....ARRRRRGH!!!!" pRINCEss stormed out of the room.
Slammed the door of her room so hard Graham could have sworn the actual foundation of hte house shook.The next morning. Everything was in order. Graham parked his Discovery across the street in an all-day multi-level parking garage (couldn't fathom the thought of parking on the street anymore, which might draw another anarchist attack on his precious SUV), made a mental note of what level he parked on, and waltzed off to the office with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.
All of this changed once he made it to his office. He opened the computer screen, from which his AOL account was proudly claiming "You got Mail". AOL account? Did Graham have an AOL account? He didn't think he did. Thank the lord for Scan Wizard. Hopefully this wasn't some bug or worm.
Opening the mail (oddly, there was no password) Graham found the following message:
Subject Clubman Cup: Gran Turismo Racing Incorporated -- Change header --- Standard Header Full Header
Sent Date 04-20-2000 9:37:54 AM
From
Counterpart GT2/European Consortium <address encrypted
>
To graham_wellington@aol.com
Dear Sir.
This is to inform you that your late model '91 Infiniti G20 has arrived in Rome and has passed all required regulation checks. The G20 is currently located in our holding area, located in the Bastion district, Ave d'Maria 67. Telefon 011-7-228-18308.
Confirmation has it that you will be arriving soon? Gran Turismo Clubman Cup racing can start whenever you desire, however, our holding area is limited to about 100 cars. So, the sooner the better. Though technically you can start this series at your whim, we have had a small problem with garage thievery.
Please make the proper arrangements by calling the above number or sending us a properly secured email soon.
~Regards, Gran Turismo 2 staff.
Despite his new-found promises, the email stirred his soul. DAngit!
Throughout the rest of the week, Graham meandered thru the Penske file. He was right in his original assumption, Measure III of the new 1999 Worth/Meister Task-Pamphlet guideline did apply, which means a supplication-passage of the Findersund Grant would make things obsolete for ol' Penske by 2003. That is, if Penske did not assume localization of Maniten Service laws. Phew. An easy case if Graham ever had one to process! How could those sharks be so blind?
Still, things felt unresolved. Graham was so out-of-sorts, he began making small, embarrassing mistakes, like the time he placed an Aptitude Claim out into Docket 4-B. Nobody did that unless they wanted a week-long return since the underlings would be slower to pick this claim from the docket. Embarassing stuff. He was losing it?
Wednesday was "hump day" at the office, which could only mean one thing: lunch time at Bennigans!
Most attorneys stuck doing office-drudgery work (instead of representing actual clients in real-world courts) would be expected to have lunch at Bennigan's. The mood would lighten a bit. It was during this lunch break that Graham said to himself "screw it, I've earned another vacation. Rome...here I come", and called the number from the email. 💡 School would be closed next week, the kids would be off.But he couldn't just take himself to Rome. He couldn't just take just Princess either.
"HONEY, WE'RE GOING TO ROME NEXT WEEK! PACK THE BAGS AND TELL THE KIDS!"
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- 10,557
- Columbia, MD.
- Parnelli_Bones
ROME
Tiffany stood nonplussed, holding her cellphone like it was suddenly laced with poison. She was currently at yet another soccer game, their poor son's team getting its ass whupped by yet another killer gang of 7-year olds.
"What did you say about a dome???" She said, hoping what she really heard wasn't what Graham really said.
Graham put on his best lawyerly-advice routine.
"Not a dome, we're talking Rome. Rome. As in that funny boot-shaped country. South Europe. You know? Rome! I've won yet another vacation! And this time, we're all going for the week!"
"Okay. Graham. Are you OUT OF YOUR FREEKIN' MIND?" She said a little too loud, waking the baby in the stroller next to her. You KNOw we can't AFFORD such a trip! Even though I'm sure I'm sure to close at least a dozen deals this summer, Graham, WE CANNOT AFFORD another vacation. That's it. Tahiti was nice, and I thank you bla bla bla....but that's IT."
Ever the planner, one step ahead of the game, Graham had prepared for this very moment. He knew he would be turned down. He knew she would say "no". This was no surprise.
"Money. Now money's no object, honey. Remember that case I handled last winter? The Schluffman Deal? I just got wind that I am to recieve a bonus...purely on-the-side. A bonus, a stipend if you will, as a way of saying thanks. So doo not worry, my bowl of yogurt truffle....."
"Now GRAMMY YOU LISTEN HERE!!!" Tiffany steamed.
But he was gone.
Graham knew the secret weapon he would employ. Oh yes. He knew it, and he knew it well. His mother-in-law! Next, he speed-dialed Tiffany's mother. Even tho he and she weren't always on the best of terms, he knew her soft spot. For she had been born in Tuscany. 💡 And it had been any number of years since Tiffany's mom had been back!
Graham had no idea where Tuscany was, of course. Didn't know if it was in Italy, or whether it was even near it. Didn't matter, he was on fire! Lay the plan, employ the plan, ask questions and accept criticisms later!
"Hello mother...." he said slyly.
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