Parnelli's GT2 stories.

I'm gonna see if I can try to get this started again WITHOUT interruptions! I'm at work...but it's pretty slow today. Some guy brought in an '01 Chevy Blazer, asking if he could get his front brakes done. I drive the truck, pull it in, look at the brakes, and it looks as if they're still plenty good. :grumpy: Told my boss "why does this guy need brakes? They almost look new!" There's no pulsation, no brake squeaks or other noises..

We're too honest. Some shops would have just put new brakes on. But now since I've got this window of time (no cars at the moment) let's hope this can get rolling again. There's going to be A LOT of story if I don't get interrupted.

Princess...​

...was now daydreaming. Gazing around the restaurant while her family bickered about this and that. Would it ever end? The constant snapping at one another? All families were like this of course. All of them had little squabbles and such, she assumes.

Right now she was just sitting back, her spaghetti (without meat) only half eaten. She gazes off into the next room. OMG she thinks. There's another room that goes off from the one the Wellingtons are sitting in, and OMG look at that cute Italian guy! Immediately, she starts gettting this weird, queasy feeling...."hormones" according to the sex-education class she took last semester in school. The man (boy?) looks about 18, and has dark hair and olive skin, as if he'd been out in the sun quite a lot. :bowdown::D He looked like a cross between Luke Perry and Johnny Depp! :yuck: Why couldn't Princess have a stunner like this in her school, she thinks, totally oblivious to the fact that the boy/man is too old for the 6th grade! All the boys in HER school were such dorks! :dunce:

Her mind now switches gears! OMG OMG WHAT DO I DO? she thinks, even though the man/boy is too old for her, and even if she does "hook up", the Wellingtons are all supposed to leave Rome tomorrow!

Thinking back to one of her soap opera scenes, she remembers one where Daria (soft lighting and all) wanted the attention of Luke. The wedding between Melissa and Grant had just ended, and nobody was currently in the chapel...except Daria and her rich, meticulous hopeful Luke. What did Daria do? Princess tries to remember...oh yea! :yuck:,

Princess decides to try a little trick, teenage experimentation and teen spirit fueling her nervously. :nervous: She walks into the anteroom (which is a little dark) and drops her purse.
"Ooops! How clumsy of me to drop my purse! OH! What should I do?"

The guy looks over, a couple hairs covering his left eye (soooo romantic!) and says in an even, smooth-sounding tenor voice....

"Mi scusi signora...Vedo che hai abbandonato la tua borsa, il tuo piccolo trucco non funziona con me la mia principessa".

"Buuuut whaaa...ahhhhhhh AHHHH!!!" she nearly screams, running out of the restaurant back to her room!


"Princess?" asks Tiffany. Was that Princess?"

"Ahhhh, what did you say?" says Graham, finishing off the remainder of his home-made Lattefier, COMPLETELY unaware of what was going on with his daughter! The sweetness of the cocoa! The wholesome fulfillment of the foamed milk! The touch of vanilla and cinnamon on top of it all! The caffeine! :mischievous: And the way it all syruped together, combining into one flavorful concoction of a drink! Not perfect as the barristas could do it, but close enough for now! Oh, he couldn't WAIT to get back to America! He wouldn't just order his favorite drink once he got back to STarbucks, Graham promised himself, no he would fricking' MOVE IN if he could. Move in, pay rent, and NEVER LEave!

Suddenly, his cell phone rang again.

"Hellowww, Graham Wellington speaking!"

"'allo I am looking for Mister Vellington" says a man's voice that sounds European in some way.

"SPeaking!"

"My name is Victor, I am GT2 RAcing Coordinator, you are driver in za race tomorrow, and vee vuld like to do uh...how you say....enterview you for magazine?"

Graham freaks out now! Interview? :eek: Yikes! How did htey find him? What would happen now if they figured out where he was staying? His lattefier drink was fueling his anxiety...all that caffeine and sugar, but (of course) he was unaware of this...but dammit!!! He COULD NOT let them find him, his family all about! These guys could ruin EVERYTHING if Tiffany and his mother-in-law found out!

"Ahhh, NO! No interview NO!"

"But sir! All za other drivers have done...enterview. Vee need just a few moments of zur time!"

DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :mad: This was unacceptable! How could he get this bozo off the phone and hide his family from this? OH the anxiety! But Grhaam of course had dealt with plenty of anxious moments before in the courts. Escapism was rarely an option at such times, but now he had a choice!

He snaps his phone shut before the man could speak another word! Quickly, he looks up the number and then programs his cell to block it!


"Who was that, Graham?" :sly: asks Tiffany slyly...

"HUH? oh nothing! Just Findertson over at the firm". he concocts..."apparently a supplemental deviance pertaining to sub-section 14.B has suddenly remanded constituation for the Kipp foundation! And we all know what that means!" he says to the rest of the family, who could care less what it means. "It means that in 24 hours, the Matriculation grant from all 13 sub-sections leading up to 14.B will be null and void, if our motions do not get pertinently filed!" he says, slamming the table for emphasis!

"Uh huh!" says Tiffany again. "Just as I thought..." that carefully sly voice once again

"huh? What?"

"Oh nothing! Nothing! GO on about your....uh....business, Graham!"

"WHAT WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" he demands

"Grammy, keep your voice down!" says Grandma. :irked:

A half hour later, the Wellington clan back in their hotel rooms, Graham is now back on his laptop, as it were, researching up some pertinent information as he configures his final Clubman Cup odds, when (again) his phone rings! This time, it's not a EUropean number, thank goodness! Chances are Gran Turismo would never find him in his out-of-the-way hotel when there were so many to search for in Rome. It wasn't GT2, though. As he looks at the caller ID, he sees it's... why....it was Clarence Binks! One of the senoir partners! UH oh...

"Hello, Graham Wellignton speaking!"

"WELLINGTON!" says Binks! He sounded as if he were pissed off about something, like he couldn't wait to rolls some heads! Thing is, he always sounded this way, but Grhama placed caution now anyways...

"Um, hello sir, this is Graham, how may I help?"

"WELLINGTON" (Binks never, ever called associates by their first name) "where are you off to, my boy?"

"Rome, sir!" Graham says, trying to sound cheerful, yet suddenly feeling nervous as hell. "Off in Rome! Taking in some sunshine, and I'll be back at the office, bright and early Monday morning!"

"What's going on with the Penske file? We need some answers Wellington!"

"Well, sir, I have discovered that the Findersundt Montastaycil directly correlates back to 1998, which means, of course, that as Penske was sowing his seeds, milking the system for all its worth, he forgot all about the Pluto/Henderson foundation, which...."

"...which has implications pertaining to Chapter IXX of Proffessorial 4 dash 222. As it were"

"RIght! Exactly sir! As it were. However, if we..."

"Good work Wellington! Keep up the good work!" says Clarence Binks, apparently thinking that Graham was doing nothing but working on the case. Now, the senior partner effectively cuts off Graham from informing his boss (one of three bosses) about the Blendisatt Dellicitti measure. Especially once (IF) Penske filed motions pertaining to the delegation of all three pink metacouncils!

"Ah good to hear from you s--"

But Binks was gone. Phew!

Grhaam looked now at his "incoming call" records. Two minutes. Two 🤬 minutes of his life wasted by that bozo! And the roaming charges to his phone, of course, would not be covered by BB & B. :Mad: Grhaam just couldn't WAIT to see his phone bill now! [/sarcasm]

But as he thought about it, Graham began to mull over the fact that the Penske file, as tedious as it was to process, really was his life, the life he had built over the past twelve years, to step to the plate, to be a man, and to support Princess along with his wife. Penske! DAmmit! Penske! DAMMIT!!!!

Graham decided it was a good idea to call Al Sueyoo, one of his partnering associates, for a little chat about how Chapter B of the Myst/Botticelli Federation might come into play. He got back on his phone (damn the bill) and went for a little walk now...


"Honey!" he calls into the next room where his wife, daughter, and mother-in-law were staying. I''m going for a little walk! Gotta clear my head! And have a little chat with Al Sueyoo", he claims, for once being about as honest as it gets.

"Mmm hmmm, a walk" says Tiffany. "Enjoy your ....walk".

Good! With Graham out of her hair for a few minutes, Tiffany saw her opportunity!
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Tiffany

Born and raised outside, inside, and around Seattle just like her husband, Italian-American Tiffany Zapula grew up as just as much of a middle-class brat as Graham. Both their families were white collar, "respectable", and (without going into too much detail) she pretty much wound up with her husband almost by default. If it weren't him, it would have been some other white collar graduate school hopeful like him. Maybe not a lawyer, but perhaps an orthodnotist. Or a tax consultant. :rolleyes:

She had become a real estate agent, and a damn good one at that. As Seattle's housing/population boom really took off in the mid '90s, Tiffany (daughter Princess now entering school) did not have to just be a housewife anymore. She could work, showing and selling houses to her clients all day. She was a "born natural" at it, too. Though she did take a course in Housing 101, Tiffany could move houses even without this knowledge. Graham (of course) was ecstatic about this. After all, a dual-occupational household could make more
money than a single. And we all know by now how Graham feels about money!

Tiffany was a go-getter, she was enthusiastic, and this enthusiasm sprung forth now!!!

Now, with Graham out for a walk on his cell, Tiffany reaches into her suitcase. Princess, mother, and her son were all watching TV, zoned out after yet another huge, satisfying Italian meal, when TIffany chimes...


"ALRIGHT WELLINGTONS! FAMILY MEETING!"

"Ahh...not now" Princess says.

"Yes Princess...NOW. We are going to get to the bottom of this!"

Tiffany now reaches into her case, bringing out her "talking stick".

"Oh...brother!" Princess says. "Do we have to???" she whines! :rolleyes:

As a "den mother" for Princess when she was in Brownies, as an ever-popular soccer mom, and as a generally enthusiastic maiden for her family, Tiffany had come up with a number of "methods" and rules about how to run her family, just as many mothers do all over the world. Somewhere along the line, she had devised how Wellington Family Meetings were to be conducted.

In American Indian culture, the tribe (depending which tribe, of course) would often hold meetings using a "talking stick". To prevent arguments flaring up, and to make sure everybody got their say on some situation, only the person holding the stick was able to speak. Until he (usually he) passed it on to another tribe member. Tiffany learned about this from somewhere, somehow, and it beguiled and annoyed the daylights out of the rest of the Wellingtons!


"Wellington family meeting, NOW!" she says again!

"Ah, but MoM!" :ouch:

"Princess! Who's holding the stick?" Tiff says patiently... "You know the rules! No talking! Unless you have the stick. And currently, you do not! Correct? Okay. Let's begin".

"BUT how can we have a meeting if dad's not even-"

"Princess!" motehr warns "let's have a little respect. NOw here. You may take the talking stick".

"This is DUMB mom! Dad's not even here! How can we have a "family" meeting if he's not even here!" she says, looking for a way to exempt this meeting from even starting. Now she hands the stick to her mother.

"Good point, and I concur" says mother. "So for now, this will be an "addistation" to the family" she says, using one of her real estate terms. "Princess. I have something to tell you"

"What?"

"Ah! You don't have the stick!"

"Mom, this is dumb!" Princess says miserably.

"Princess, dear", says grandma igrnoring the "talking stick" rule, "we have something to tell you. Something you're not gonna like..."




:) Hope you likey! I promise the racing stuff comes next! :scared: STay tuned...
 
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I'm gonna see if I can try to get this started again WITHOUT interruptions! I'm at work...but it's pretty slow today. Some guy brought in an '01 Chevy Blazer, asking if he could get his front brakes done. I drive the truck, pull it in, look at the brakes, and it looks as if they're still plenty good. :grumpy: Told my boss "why does this guy need brakes? They almost look new!" There's no pulsation, no brake squeaks or other noises..

We're too honest. Some shops would have just put new brakes on. But now since I've got this window of time (no cars at the moment) let's hope this can get rolling again. There's going to be A LOT of story if I don't get interrupted.


Princess...​


...was now daydreaming. Gazing around the restaurant while her family bickered about this and that. Would it ever end? The constant snapping at one another? All families were like this of course. All of them had little squabbles and such.

Right now she was just sitting back, her spaghetti (without meat) only half eaten. She gazes off into the next room. OMG she thinks. There's another room that goes off from the one the Wellingtons are sitting in,


So your at work, and not doing work :odd:...

But keep writing, I need something to do!

It's good that your honest, you'll get more customers. :)
 
So your at work, and not doing work :odd:...

I'm a mechanic, and get paid by the car. Since I have no cars right now, that means I'm not getting paid! :lol: But at my job, us mechanics aren't forced to do "busy work" like cleaning like we would be at some other shop. I can litereally fall asleep, write my story, watch Jerry Springer or Speed Channel, and nobody will yell at me. :) ...but I"m also not being paid. :grumpy:

But keep writing, I need something to do!

It's good that your honest, you'll get more customers. :)

Very true.
 
I'm a mechanic, and get paid by the car. Since I have no cars right now, that means I'm not getting paid! :lol: But at my job, us mechanics aren't forced to do "busy work" like cleaning like we would be at some other shop. I can litereally fall asleep, write my story, watch Jerry Springer or Speed Channel, and nobody will yell at me. :) ...but I"m also not being paid. :grumpy:



Very true.

Well I know where my father is going to get the car fixed now... :lol:. Only a 10 hour drive.

...was now daydreaming. Gazing around the restaurant while her family bickered about this and that. Would it ever end? The constant snapping at one another? All families were like this of course. All of them had little squabbles and such, she assumes.

Right now she was just sitting back, her spaghetti (without meat) only half eaten. She gazes off into the next room. OMG she thinks. There's another room that goes off from the one the Wellingtons are sitting in, and OMG look at that cute Italian guy! Immediately, she starts gettting this weird, queasy feeling...."hormones" according to the sex-education class she took last semester in school. The man (boy?) looks about 18, and has dark hair and olive skin, as if he'd been out in the sun quite a lot. He looked like a cross between Luke Perry and Johnny Depp! Why couldn't Princess have a stunner like this in her school, she thinks, totally oblivious to the fact that the boy/man is too old for the 6th grade!

Her mind now switches gears! OMG OMG WHAT DO I DO? she thinks, even though the man/boy is too old for her, and even if she does "hook up", the Wellingtons are all supposed to leave Rome tomorrow!

Thinking back to one of her soap opera scenes, she remembers one where Daria (soft lighting and all) wanted the attention of Luke. , Princess decides to try a little trick, teenage experimentation and teen spirit fueling her nervously. She walks into the anteroom (which is a little dark) and drops her purse. "Ooops! How clumsy of me to drop my purse! OH! What should I do?"
The guy looks over, a couple hairs covering his left eye (soooo romantic!) and says in an even, smooth-sounding tenor voice....

"Mi scusi signora...Vedo che hai abbandonato la tua borsa, il tuo piccolo trucco non funziona con me la mia principessa".

"Buuuut buuut...ahhhhhhh AHHHH!!!" she nearly screams, running out of the restaurant back to her room!


And princess chickens out?
 
Day 11- - Back to Rome. Armed with his B liscence, Passport, and racing papers Graham went back to Rome to race the colisseum track once again.

Grahm wasnt so lucky this time. His kids both got sick after eating too many berries in San Marino. This disracted Graham and he wasn't able to study the longer Rome circuit in detail.

He still managed to place 2nd in the last turn of the race, being beaten by Perogi Pepi Roni in a Skyline Nissan. Anyways, a loss a in any of the 3 Clubman races means he couldn't move on to the next series.

Better luck next time!
 
Day 11- - Back to Rome. Armed with his B liscence, Passport, and racing papers Graham went back to Rome to race the colisseum track once again.

Grahm wasnt so lucky this time. His kids both got sick after eating too many berries in San Marino. This disracted Graham and he wasn't able to study the longer Rome circuit in detail.

He still managed to place 2nd in the last turn of the race, being beaten by Perogi Pepi Roni in a Skyline Nissan. Anyways, a loss a in any of the 3 Clubman races means he couldn't move on to the next series.

Better luck next time!


Ha ha...."Skyline Nissan". :lol: Embarassing stuff...




...Graham...


Talking to Al Sueyoo was never an in and out affair. As such, Graham now spent something like 10 minutes talking to the man. As he talks, he walks. After the phone call is over
: "wow, where the hell am I?" he asks himself.

Damn this city!

Graham looks around. The street he's on is bending at a weird angle. The sun is down, the street is dark. Before him, a couple is arguing, throwing their arms into the air as stereotypical Italians do in the movies. But the street itself winds off into darkness. He turns around, only to be confronted with some sort of a turnabout, at least a half dozen streets and alleys to follow! Dammit!


The man starts to panic lightly. Why couldnt' they have just built this city like his home: Redmond, Washington, with safe 90 degree angles bisecting most of its street intersections, sign posts that actually made sense, and wussy traffic he could deal with? :( But he was on his phone, and now he's here.

A half hour later, it's now pushing 10 pm, and Graham has yet to study his pie graphs. :crazy::scared: He makes his way back to his hotel room after retracing his steps, with a burden on his mind. :grumpy: He looks in on the girls, and their light is out. Good. This makes everything easier.

Back in his hotel room, though...


"Dad will you weed me a stowee!??"

oh, brother. :facepalm:

He thinks for a moment. No dusty law book this time, and Tiffany no doubt has the actual storybook, and he is NOT about to wake her up! Not after all those weird vibes at the dinner table he's not!


"Okay, son. What would you like me to read?" he asks, hoping (praying) 5 minutes of him droning on about Goldilocks or whatever will knock his son out for hte evening.

"I want....Five Wittle Piggies. Weed me Wittle Piggies".

Cool, this would be easy. No storybook is required for the 5 Little Piggies. Grhaam could go into a semi-spontaneous diatribe, do a little improvising, and be done with it.

"Little, son. Five Little Piggies, not 'Wittle'". he corrects. "Anyways, let's get started. Show me your foot". he says, taking off his own shoes and socks, putting his own feet up on a stool. He knew how much his son liked this stupid story when his mom read it to him, but his version...

"Okay. So this Little Piggie went to market" he starts, pointing to his son's big toe.

"He went to maahket?" asks the son. He had heard this story probably a billion times by now, yet always seemed just a little too fascinated by it.

"He went to Market. The Stock Market, matter of fact". Graham improvised. "Oh yes, he did! The Stock Market! That's what smart, Republican, white-collar associates do my son, they play the Stock Market. :) Make some money, talk to their brokers..."

"Dad, what's a broken?"

"Broker" Graham corrects. He was happy to be teaching his son this stuff now, completely happy. :) Better to teach him early, get him brainwashed good! Grham now completely forgot about racing, Tiffany, his daughter...and now focused on brainwashing his only son. "A broker is somebody who you give your money to, and hopefully he can turn it around for even MORE money!" :mischievous: he says, greed in his eyes. "A Broker, assuming he knows what he's doing, is therefore a very good person to know".

"Oh".

"Now, pay attention son, this stuff is important".

"Um okay, daddy".

"This little piggy" he says, pointing to the toe next to his son's big toe "stayed home..." he said ominously. "He stayed home, because he's a lazy, pot-smoking no-good Democrat...feeding off the system...collecting welfare from tax payers like us while we work for that lazy son-of-a-🤬, his fat wife, and his seven stupid ass kids."

"Dad, what's a son-of-a-🤬?"

Ooops.. :scared:

"Uh....son of a witch, I meant to say son of a witch." :nervous:

"Oh".

"Yea, um. I meant to say son-of-a-witch. Democrats are all sons of witches, son". :irked: "Lazy, no good sons of witches who....well, you get the picture".

"Next toe, daddy! Next toe!"

"THIS little piggie" he says, pointing to his son's middle toe "had roast beef". Why? Because he was hungry. But he went to work to make some money, and then went to market to hopefully make MORE money, and after evil bills and taxes, he still had plenty of money" Grhaam says, gesturing "Therefore, he could afford to pay for his roast beef, instead of bucking or feeding off the system".

"The system?" asks the son, looking a little lost. :confused:

"The system, my boy. The system is the government. Booo! Big, bad government! Can you say "big bad government, son?"

"NO. Next toe, daddy!"

Graham rolled his eyes. :rolleyes: "And this little piggie" he says, now pointing to the toe next to his son's middle toe "this little piggie had none". :(

"Why none, daddy?"

"Well, he had no roast beef, because he was a vegetarian, son. And he spent all his money buying tofu and evil vegetables. Yuck son! :yuck: But remember, son...he didn't actually have any money of his own, he was riding the welfare system. Because he was too lazy to get his own job, son. And he used what brain-power he had left after smoking all his POT to figure out a loophole involving his lazy, bratty spoiled kids to...."

"DAD". the son now interrupts. "This story sucks. Tell 5 wittle piggies THE RIGHT WAY"..

:rolleyes: "This is the right way, son, this is the story behind the story, as it were. Now...Do you want me to continue? Or shall story time be over?"

"oookay". :indiff:

NOw he points to his son's little toe. Somehow, the little one gets the fun part...


"This little piggie" he says with emphasis, getting up and pacing the room as if addressing a jury "went wheee all the way home. Because he was driving his souped-up INfiniti G20", Graham says, completely forgetting his son now "throttling its engine up to seven grand! Dropping its clutch and then ROARING down the straight!!!! Getting ahead of ...."

...zzzzzzzzzzzz.....

Oh good! Phew! Grhaam looks over now to see his son had passed out. EXCELLENT WORK GRAHAMMY!

At once he lowered the lights, grabbed his laptop to start (guess) studying his pie graphs and bar graphs again. He also went into his Gran Turismo 2 webpages and pulled up a map of the circuit he would be racing tomorrow morning. Ah geez! Look at this combination of streets! If Rome Short got Grham's goat, the full course was downright maddening! :mad:

But, Grhaam pressed on. A long time veteran of last minute deadlines, scheduling changes, and facing stuffy courtrooms with the amount of sleep akin to a gas tank about to run out of fuel, he studied his graphs. He studied the track's layout, tried to visualize what the hell it would look like when he actually drove it. He also studied the bios of a few drivers on Gran Turismo 2's official website.


The Next Morning


Grhaam gets up early. 6 am, now. The previous night, he had only slept about 2 hours as he studied, worried, and dealt with life without his favorite drink at hand. DAmn. That drink would make all the difference :lol: he thought.

But now he gets up quietly. His son is still asleep. Good. He dresses, affixes his tie into a Windsor knot, palmed a shot of Paul Mitchell into his hair (without his hair mousse, Graham felt pretty much naked, after all). He put away his laptop, organized his briefcase, and was ready to roll. As it were. :rolleyes:

Gets outside and stops. Hmmm.


"Okay, Princess, where are you?" he calls to the open hallway.

No Princess.

He walks down the stairs, peeking around a stairwell

"Princesss....oh Princess!" he calls.

No Princess.

Hmmm, now this is unexpected. Where could she be? If it weren't for her snooping around, after all, it's possible the entire Wellington family might not have even joined Mr. Wellington in this horrid city.

But no Princess? Okay, well, let's get going then. She either would or would not show up as he left the hotel. If not, oh well....so much the easier. Motion sustained, your honor, as it were. Ha ha.

He walks now to the lobby, buys a newspaper (to keep up appearances) even though he can't read Italian. He buys the paper, you see, because he's thinking that if his nosey family comes down later asking questions, it'll look as if he had merely gone for an ordinary morning stroll.

....but that's what he was thinking. ;) As he actually looks at the paper later on as he hails a taxi, EVERYTHING came to a grinding halt!
 
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Day 11- - Back to Rome. Armed with his B liscence, Passport, and racing papers Graham went back to Rome to race the colisseum track once again.

Grahm wasnt so lucky this time. His kids both got sick after eating too many berries in San Marino. This disracted Graham and he wasn't able to study the longer Rome circuit in detail.

He still managed to place 2nd in the last turn of the race, being beaten by Perogi Pepi Roni in a Skyline Nissan. Anyways, a loss a in any of the 3 Clubman races means he couldn't move on to the next series.

Better luck next time!


Graham
Talking to Al Sueyoo was never an in and out affair. As such, Graham now spent something like 10 minutes talking to the man. As he talks, he walks. After the phone call is over: "wow, where the hell am I?" he asks himself.

Damn this city!

Graham looks around. The street he's on is bending at a weird angle. The sun is down, the street is dark. Before him, a couple is arguing, throwing their arms into the air as stereotypical Italians do in the movies. But the street itself winds off into darkness. He turns around, only to be confronted with some sort of a turnabout, at least a half dozen streets and alleys to follow! Dammit!


The man starts to panic lightly. Why couldnt' they have just built this city like his home: Redmond, Washington, with safe 90 degree angles bisecting most of its street intersections, sign posts that actually made sense, and wussy traffic he could deal with. :( But he was on his phone, and now he's here.

A half hour later, it's now pushing 10 pm, and Graham has yet to study his pie graphs. :crazy::scared:

I like the drama... Nice build up.
 
Back to the story

Graham's riding in a taxi towards the Collesseum district in Rome.

Photo-0008.jpg
 
Compromise.

"Let's compromise". If "proactive" and "insist" were two words Graham really liked, "compromise" was a word he definitely did not like! "Let's compromise, sir!". Compromise meant not doing things the way GRAHAM would like to get them done, after all.

Yet as he made his way from the taxi towards the racing paddocks a couple blocks away, he found himself making several small compromises. Which irked and irritated him. :irked: Why? Part of Grham wanted to just be done with it all! To not even show up here at Rome's Gran Turismo 2 Clubman race. Go home with his family. That would be easy. But he was getting a little sick of it all.

I mean, the racing part was easy. If all he had to do was race (as he did at Tahiti, High Speed Ring, and somewhat at Red Rocks) Mr. Wellington couldn't be happier. But as he found himself walking from the taxi to the racing paddock area, sure enough Graham saw the sharks waiting. With their cameras. And their attitude! And for the record, Graham could have none of that!

Part of him wishes he could go home, but another part of him was suddenly wishing he could instead do the exact opposite and embrace his situation! Walk straight up to the camerapeople. And they'd go...

"SENOR! SENOR! HAVE YOU...
"YUPPY SCUM YUPPY SCUM, COULD WE HAVE A WORD.."
"HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT...."


....In his face! The adoration! The prestige! The FAME! He wanted to embrace all this! Walk right up to them and truely jump into the world of his impending celebrity with both feet! :D No doubt!

But you see, if we are to assume he'd do this, it would be the hard part! Racing? That's easy! Frighteningly more easy than being a lawyer for sure, especially once you factor in the money per laps raced equation. But celebrity? Oh goodness, celebrity would be the hard part! :scared:

He was thinking all this as he stood in the shadows, holding his briefcase, his morning paper, and a small cup of (gasp) ordinary coffee, trying to imagine a way he could approach his car in front of all htese people. Even at this early hour, ALL of them were here. He could definitey see them all. If he didn't have a family? Correction: if he didn't have an INVASIVE family... No problem. :mad: He could jsut walk up and embrace his celebrity. Right here, right now. Problem was he DID have a family! And they would NOT be pleased if they were to see his picture in the morning paper, and then figure out what he really had been up to all these weeks!

Oh, the paper. Yea, almost forgot. :indiff:

Graham saw his image in the morning paper as he rode the taxi towards the Collisseum. :nervous: In fact, ALL the local morning papers (not the Wall Street Journal or London Times or Washington Post, but the local rags) had his image printed upon them. He and Princess were live, as it were, on the front of the paper, dancing around after his Rome Short win earlier in the week!

Well, he definitely could NOT have this for his family to see! So he went back to the hotel, went for a little walk and bought all the morning papers within a block's radius, just so he could throw them away and hopefully avoid his family (really, his mother and mother-in-law) from seeing them!

But as he approached the racing paddocks, Graham found himself compromising instead. He comrpromised a way to get into the circus unnoticed. For sure, if they all saw this man approaching with his briefcase, paper, conservative suit, and smart-looking wire-rim glasses (even though Graham didn't need glasses, he thought they made him look intelligent) they would all know "Yuppy Scum" was here! And he'd be all over the evening papers as well! No, this would not do!

So he compromised instead, which irritates Graham. :mad: He figured out a way behind the sharks. So that he wound up walking through a small door directly into the garages themselves instead of out on the street where the sharks would eat him.

"Ahh, sir, I hope you speak English...please speak English". he says to a burly mechanic-looking man with a sour face (like he didn't want to be here either) and a certain demeanor.

The guy was taller than Graham, wearing coveralls, and had a big moustache. Obviously a mechanic. He had 'the look', too. Like if Grhaam tipped him a few Euros, he would happily act as Graham's personal bodyguard.

Turns out, he didn't speak any English, but another man (this one smaller, more intelligent/less of a brute) did. Graham now tips both these guys 20 Euros apiece to get him from this area to his 1991 Infiniti G20. As soon as they saw him, their eyes lit up. :eek: They KNEW who he was, too! :lol: But money talks. And so they gave Graham one of their mechanic's coverall suits to put over his finely-tailored Brooks Brothers suit. :rolleyes: Graham didnt' like this, but at least he would possibly make it to his car, hopefully without anybody noticing.

A few moments later, he did it! Was now sitting in his G20! Ready to roll, as it were! Graham slipped out of the coverall suit, and sat in his car, actually watching the paparazzi less than a block away, obviously waiting for him! Yikes! He would sit here all morning if he had to, sipping his coffee (yuck! :yuck:) and waiting his chance to pull out onto the track. Better to sit here than to get pummeled by the sharks! :)

The mechanics had managed to take Graham's GT2 credentials, too, and alert the track marshalls of his presence. They apparently had not told the wrong people. Which means that man he spoke to the previous evening were probably not alerted to Graham's presence, and the sharks would remain unaware! Good.

As he sits in his car. Grhaam starts to miss Princess. :( His little cheerleader. His little good-luck charm. :(:(:(

His daughter was annoying, but it could also be that she was possibly helping him somehow...helping him win, that is. Her presence at Rome Short and Grindelwald, as annoying as it was, couldn't have been all bad, right? It was always good to have somebody on your team, as it were. :rolleyes: But...she was not here. She was stuck in that damn hotel with her mother and motehr-in-law! :indiff:

practice laps, Rome Full Course, Clubman Cup

 
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Keep going; you have us all hooked on your story. After all, I eagerly await the next caper that Graham will get in.:)
 
Yes, I understand your impatience, we all eagerly await the next installment. And yet, like a fine wine, if we let it age it will get even better. I look forward to future chapters coming years and even decades from now.
 
I'll do the next chapter if somebody finds the correct caption for the Sil80 in that thread I started the other day. Get it? ;)
 
Really great job in the story!! Found it the other day and read the whole thing. Bet piece of writing on this website. I eagerly await the next chapter. I have "graham" fever. Really good job though. 👍
 
so it's the Rome Circuit race for Mr. Yuppy Scum eh? can't wait to see what happen next
on unrelated news : my memory card was corrupted, and all the cars i've got has been erased, dang! :banghead: and now college time nearby so it's kinda a chores to me to get it back again. *sniff*
 
Please write more. This story has grown on me. The first time I read it I didn't like it, the second time I read it I thought it was okay, the third time I thought it was good, and the fourth time I thought it was great. Cannot wait for the next chapter.
 
Looks like I got my work cut out for me this weekend, then. Good thing it's a 3-day weekend for me. :)

By the way, those of you who have ESPN speed channel, set your alarms for 1PM Sunday July 3rd, e.s.t. There's a GT race at Road America (Continental Tire Challenge). Mustangs, Camaros, BMWs, etc. all competing.

And check out Red-line, which is a GT4 story. One of my faves.
 
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Okay, you got me hooked on Red-line. Lots of great pics really help the story along!

But, I should be done with it today or tomorrow, so hopefully you're working on Yuppy Scum's tale and we'll have another chapter soon! Or at least recommend another race report for me for after I finish Red-line...
 
I know, Red-line is awesome right? Even though Drifting 24/7 hasn't got English as his native language (I'm assuming...he's from Phillipines) it's still an awesome read.

Waiting on my new cellphone this week, my other one died awhile back. I need the phone to take pictures, you see. Gotta have them pics, but yea, this chapter is coming.
 
Hey! I read your story and it is fantastic!! Your story hook me up and I couldn't stop reading it! You're good to create story and have good inspirations ;). I know it should be difficult to create that and I'm pretty sure that your private life make it difficult but I hope you'll post the next chapter soon. Keep up the good story ;)
 
I appreciate it, and I will be getting the next one up soon. The race, that is.

Hey does anybody have any preference for text color and size and stuff? I"ve been using a slightly larger text size with navy blue color most of the story, but I don't know if it's annoying to anybody or not. Any comments?
 
Practice Laps

Thanks! Sorry it's been so long.


Whizzing down the road, Graham Wellington is back in action! His blue Infiniti once again showing the others how it's done! :crazy:

Graham smiles. Confident! HE'S WINNING!!!! :mischievous: Behind him, he can only see empty streets in his rearview mirror! The feeling compounds itself, to the point that he's LOVING EVERRY SECOND OF IT. And EVERY SECOND of it feels just FANTASTIC! Only TWO more corners to go! and Rome is HIS!!!

But as he passes the finish line, something is wrong. And
somehow all the other cars have passed the finsih line first! :nervous: Oh noooo!!!

*TAP TAP TAP*

As Graham gets out of his car, he's expecting the royal treatment, the ladies with the champagne, the shouts, the cheers, even some boos. But there's none of this. Matter of fact, the entire crowd is LOOKING THE OTHER WAY!

*TAP TAP TAP*

As he walks up to the crowd, he can see the other drivers all getting out of their cars...all funny-looking tiny cars. There's Joe the Floor manager! There's Art Lewinski from accounting! From a small, funny-looking European car, massive 6 foot 3 inch-tall Drew McCllelan (a master defense attorney) clambers out on an odd angle.

Suddenly, all eyes center on the winner. A white car which looks kinda like a Volkswagen but Graham doesn't think that could be. From this Volkswagenish car steps the winner: Christopher Banks! One of the senior partners of Graham's law firm, who has about the same sense of humor as your average land turtle.


"WHERE WERE YOU GRAHAM?" asks Banks in his pendantic, booming voice. "We were here .....WAITING for you! And we DON'T....LIKE...WAITING, Graham!"

"Uh....I ....uh..."

"you were LATE Grham! And that's why we HAD TO WAIT!!!"

"but I'm never late!" he protested.

"Ha ha ha ha...look who we have here" says that weasel from Proprietory Law....Maz what's-his-name "and LATE to boot!"

"But I'm NEVER late! I'm the winner! I'm SUPPOSED TO BE THE WINNER!"

"RACE DISMISSED!" says a voice to the right. Graham looks over towards the crowd, only to see Judge Judy emerging in her black robes. If Banks had a similar sense of humor as an average land turtle, Judge Judy carried the viciousness of a viper!

"RACE DISMISSED. GRAHAM, I WANT TO SEE YOU IN MY OFFICE ... NOWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"No. NO! I WON THIS RACE, fair and square Judge! I AM THE WINNER!!!"

"Missster Wellington. Am I going to have to find you in contempt?" asks the judge. "Do not make me repeat myself again! I want to see you in my office.... NOW!"

"But!"

"NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!"
"nowww....

nowww...


nooowwwww....

.........nowww...."






*TAP TAP TAP*


Graham awoke with a start!

"Oh man, what a dream!" he says, startled to be sitting in his car.

With nothing to do and nowehre to go, Graham had fallen asleep as he waited for somebody to say it's okay to start driving. He couldn't consult his laptop. He couldn't rev his G20's engine. He couldn't mosey around. He coudln't even leave his car, lest he be seen by the awful psychopathic paparrazi. :scared: The coffee he had been drinking didn't seem to help. He had fallen asleep anyways. Graham's goal for today: MAKE SURE YOU WIN THIS RACE, BUT ALSO MAKE SURE YOU DO NOT MAKE YOURSELF AVAILABLE TO THE PRESS! He did NOT want to have his wife up his 🤬 on the trip home. Or (God forbid) his mother in-law.

It's amazing I've managed to pull this off thus far
, Graham suddenly thinks. Tiffany doesn't know, and neither does her mother. he thinks, smugly. What's to worry about then?

"Senor Vellington, I am afraid you fall asleep, no?" says one of the mechanics.

Oh yea. He had been hiding in the garage, hiding from the press that is.


"It is time! Time to get moving, no?"

No? How about HELLS YES! Finally, the moment he had been waiting for. Order in the Court! You may be seated!!

Graham was not one of the first drivers to pull onto the track, unfortunately. He had to share his time with others, and could only get a couple laps in before quitting time. shucks!

As he rolled onto the street, the crowd perking up with shouts and cigarettes waving, Graham's G20 roared with life!

He had studied this track so damn much over the past few days, he knew every turn he would have to make. Right..right....left by the Collisseum...a long left followed by a kink to the right. Go straight for a while...then a HARD right. :yuck: Short straight, then another hard right. Short straight, then a difficult left! Sheesh! The track now curved long and gentle by the Collisseum again, kinked left, and Graham's G20 would be on the backstretch, jsut as it had been at the Rome Short track. :)

Down the backstretch....probably 3rd and 4th gear, before the dreaded left/right combo towards the final right turn.

S H E E S H.

What the hell? Would any other tracks be so damn complicated? :lol:

Problem was (of course) Grhaam had only been studying an aerial view of the course. He couldn't actually visualize what it would look like once he drove it! :indiff: And he was about to do so now...

As he throttled off towards the first right turn in 3rd gaer, he saw the set of yellow lines on the side of the road. Expertly, as if he had driven this course dozens of times, he manages to keep his right tires running just over this set of lines, no brakes at all. :D Oh yes! His G20 gets slightly tossed by a small red & white rumble strip as inertia forces it to the far left!

Grham is now leaving turn one, while early spectators clamber about to see the "Mad Businessman" do his thing!

..By now, after reading the previous articles in the local rags, they ALL know about Graham..the wild, crazy man wearing the suit and tie, driving a car completely unsuitable for GT racing, but somehow winning winning winning. :)

What is Graham really like? they all wonder. And will have to keep wondering, since Graham gave no "celebrity" interview like all the other drivers...hee heee. Who is this man? they all think, even as some of them jeer and boo. Who does he THINK he is, this attorney who has apparently taken a sudden interest in the world of motorsports?

A lot of these spectators were used to seeing the world thru their usual Formula 1 driver's eyes. They rooted for Schumacher. Or Button. Or whoever. This man, however, was a comical mystery!

As Graham leaves turn 1 and fuels off towards the Collisseum, he has a sudden flash. He knows nothing about the Collisseum except long ago fights took place there. Lions would fight human prisoners, stuff like that. The barbaric cultures of the past! And now, here we all are, fighting in motorized steel instead! :mischievous: Instead of blood, we have fuel. Instead of gladiators, we have race drivers, each taking the time to skill his or her craft. One thing that matters in either sport though? Seconds count. In a few seconds, a Collisseum bout could be all over, and it only took a few seconds (tenths of seconds actually) to win an automobile race. Apparently.

Image0002.jpg


Grham enterd the Colliseum turn a little too "hot", the Infiniti's front-end squealing with dedication!

Image0003.jpg


To compensate, Grhaam released the gas pedal and waited what seemd a LONG time for the sound to end. Once it does, he motors off, dozens of spectators gazing, cheering, booing, and mouthing words Graham could not hear! Hell, let them boo! "I'M GONNA TEAR ROME APART!!!! AND BE OUTTIE!" he says, imitating his daughter. "SNAP!"

Image0010.jpg


Now he's driving towards what he considered to be one of the worst looking areas of the track. He leaves the Collisseum, only to wind up hard-lining it in 3rd gear towards Turn 5: the first tight right!

He counts the markers..blessed markers: 200....150.... And at 100 meters, he starts to brake. Downshifts into 2nd! Turns out this was too late! Graham's auto now skidded (understeered) towards the guardrail, Graham lucky not to have touched it.

Slightly embarassed (the crowd in the cafe area on the inside of that turn is laughing), Graham gets back into 1st gear...revs up to 2nd..

Image0012.jpg


The rest of the track was a blur. :( Grhaam really wanted to get lots and lots of laps in (as he had at previous tracks) but could only do just two of them. But..so did everyone else. Only diff was, all the other drivers probably DROVE here all their lives...them being mostly Italians. Probably GREW UP here. Knew these streets the way Graham knew the Market District over in Seattle!

As the last of the drivers get their cars done practicing, the track monitors have the drivers line up for the start of the race! As Graham looks off and around, he sees the paparazzi FOAMING AT THE MOUTH that they failed to get an interview with the arrogant, Wall Street-looking driver! Haa haaa!!!! Let them foam!

As the cars got lined up, the clock started ticking down...

3....2....1.....
 
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As am I. Indeed, your story has once again captivated me (sorry, been reading lots of lemon/yuri fanfics on FanFiction NONSTOP lately which is why I almost forgot... almost!) but yeah, I and the rest of the readers eagerly await the next exciting installment in your story; but no rush!
 
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