*Velocità ~ The Conclusion*

[Skyline49]

Any fictional events in this story are intended as the authors work. If any similar event exists, it is purely coincidental. Any display of product of place does not imply sponsorship from that company.

For reading, three asterisks means a long switch between places or time, or another thing such as any other story or novel. Five asterisks means the end of the chapter.

The story will contain more GT4 references – this is the set-up for the story.

“Velocità”

Part 1: Melbourne​

My heart is pounding. It beats faster and faster with each passing second. The tension is unbearable, yet I continue to sit here, waiting. My chest feels as if it were about to explode. I glance at the starting clock. Not a single hand is moving. In the stands, every person is still. I look up and see an airplane, suspended midair. Not moving. I cannot take it anymore. The stress has gotten to me. This is the end. They will find me, dead at the wheel.

Why, I ask myself, is this happening? It is as if I am being punished for living my dream. Suddenly, the realization hits me. I have felt this feeling before. But where?

It is slowly coming back to me. No, I must suppress it. I must not remember…the crash.

Now that it is in my head I can think of not a thing more. I cringe as the feeling comes back to haunt me. It is growing, growing until it has enveloped me. There is not another though crossing my mind, least not that I am on the starting grid at Albert Park, waiting for my first F1 start since that dreadful day in 2005.
My mind turns into autopilot as I begin to recall that exact moment. It seems like yesterday. So fresh… So vivid…

‘Everything is normal. My car’s in great shape. Looks like it’s going to be another easy victory for…
Wait. What’s just happened there? The steering was off through Ascari. I’m off for the entrance to Stewart. Not that it matters. Just a simple correction next time. Only four more laps once I cross the line.
Better bring the car down an extra 10k into Jones. Don’t want to be in the wall coming out of Brabham.
I’ll probably just radio to the team that I’m having slight problems. Seems odd they haven’t been calling on me recently…’

Then the thrusting force. The immense heat. And the immediate loss of power and control - and the horror of the wall just beyond the Whiteford gravel trap looming just ahead.
Then only blackness.

I snap out of the trance and time has gone back to normal. The lights are about to go out, as I rev the Renault engine and slot it into first gear, to right the wrong of 2005.

* * *​

Unfortunately, not a successful outing today. DC’s Red Bull isn’t that fast, but it seems a lot quicker than when he was driving it.

But that is not the main story. The pressure and the agony are making me rethink this re-launch. I’m going to talk it over with Christian later. My drive is compromising Vettel’s career, and I’m not really sure if I even want it anymore. At my age, I feel almost too old to be driving an F1 car anymore, not to mention it scares the living daylights out of me.

I’ve heard through the grapevine that GER Racing needs another driver for the upcoming Formula 3000 season, but I still feel that is too much. I’m looking for something in production car racing, or possibly a nostalgic circuit.

As luck would have it, I’m glancing right at a poster for the GTF sponsored “Il Giro di Nostalgia di Europa”, a six race event throughout Europe. It claims to visit many lesser-known circuits, but also some all-time favourites, including the old Nurburgring.

As I search for my mobile, Timo Glock wanders up to me.

“Nice driver, Schuey,” he says, “Wait up a little next time.”

“And you’re a regular Senna yourself,” I say, making a nod to my favourite driver and my idol, “At least you didn’t lose it in the last turn this time.”

“Really funny, Mr. Young. I still gained a spot from that move.”

I hear someone call out “Timo!” and I wish Glock good luck and continue on my way. Suddenly, Mark Webber runs out at me, yelling.

“James! I’ve heard a terrible rumor that you’re going to be gone from F1 by Monaco. Any truth to it?”
“Monaco?” I ask, “Try Wednesday. I tell you, I’m through with this whole open-wheel business. I’m actually going to try and head back to Europe for the nostalgia series coming up soon.”

“James,” Webber seems more frantic now, “You’re the one keeping this team together. Everybody up and down the paddock loves you, and you’re quick to boot.”

“Bull. Vettel deserves my spot. People like him better. He actually has potential. If everything goes right from here, I’ll finish maybe top half in the Driver’s. Tops. Vettel can win races. He’ll win the Driver’s within the next few years. But to do that, he needs a good race seat. The Toro’s aren’t quick this year.”
“James, he’s a passing fad. Unless he gets his act together with these new cars, I’ve heard he might lose his seat to Piquet Jr. That’s saying something.”

“You’ve also heard that I’m going ‘till Monaco. I’m not surprised Renault wants to dump Piquet, though. He’s not doing well.”

“I actually think it’s the chassis. Alonso qualifying 17th is a sign that something’s up.”

“Listen, Mark, that’s all wonderful and exciting, but I’ve got to run if I’m going to get that drive in the nostalgia thing.”

“Best of luck to you, James. I still think you should reconsider, though.”

“When hell freezes over, Mark!”

“Whatever you say!”

* * * * *​

Stay tuned for Part 2, when James Young (the main character) will learn of his fate in the famed “Il Giro di Nostalgia di Europa.” Yes, it will contain references to GT4 in due time.

Other parts may contain some pictures, but they will be a lot scarcer than in some other stories, leaving the reader to fill in the images themselves.

I will also take time to note that I will NOT translate any foreign language text. I recommend “freetranslation.com” to get a general idea of what I am saying, for that is what I used to say it in many circumstances. Also used was a HarperCollins Italian phrasebook. If you notice any flaws, please speak up and I’ll correct them.

 

[PF]

Nice work mate, this is very good. Despite the Canadian flag you sound like an Aussie (paddock and mobile give it away). You could perhaps explain some of the acronyms for us non-racing types, but I think it's well written and only has a couple of minor errors with spellng and punctuation.

Great work, am keen to read more.

 

[Smallhorses]

A promising and intriguing beginning. Looking forward to reading more. 👍

 

[Skyline49]

I'll be posting the next part up shortly. It's not edited completely yet, and I also need to snap some shots for Part 3.

Frankly, the next part is not as strong as this one. I'm trying to figure out a way to make it better.

 

[Parnelli Bone]

That was pretty intense beginning, there. 👍 It's funny, i had a dream in which i was driving some old-style NASCAR vehicle, made a pit stop, and then was not allowed to leave the pits because somehow there was trash and parts and even a few parked cars strewn all about the pit road. So i sat there trying to squeeze my thru all this mayhem so i could get back on the track. And it was an intense dream cuz i got mad, paranoid, and frustrated all at the same time.

I agree with you don't make translations in the next part. I can figure out what you're saying.

 

[Skyline49]

“Velocità”


Part 2: Tension


The Offices of Mr. G. Wilson – ATC Race Team Headquarters​

Truth be told, I don’t want to leave F1. It’s been my passion and I’ve always loved it. But I do need a break. No, that’s too simple. Break… hmmm… rest? No, still not great. How about “sabbatical?” Yes, excellent. That’s what I’ll call it. Maybe I’ll head back into testing afterward. Yes, that would work well…

My thinking is cut short as a fat, bald man walks into the room.

“Cigar?” he offers in a thick Yankee accent.

“No. Thanks, though.”

“Listen, kid,” he starts, “I’ve got to tell first off that this isn’t a posh no-passing classics tour. These drivers are ruthless. Last year, we sent a couple little dweebs like you to the hospital because they couldn’t figure out that this is real. Still interested?”

“Even more so, sir.”

“Hey!” He seems agitated now, “I don’t need some smart aleck like you actin’ like your all high and mighty. Get with the program or get the…”

“Phone call for Mr. Wilson!” Comes a soothing voice over the intercom, “Mr. Wilson, please pick up.”

Mr. Wilson lets out a deep sigh.

“I’ll deal with you later, you measly pile of…”

“Mr. Wilson!” The voice seems more urgent. “Please pick up the phone now!”

I turn to leave just to catch the red-faced bald man swearing profusely into his phone. Hopefully he isn’t actually part of the team.

Foyer​

After sitting for twenty minutes, I hear footsteps behind me.

“Mister Young?” A voice calls a voice from behind me. I turn to see who it is.

“Hello, Mr. Young. My name is Allison. Lawrence Allison. I hope Mr. Wilson didn’t scare you off too badly.”

“Not at all. But it does seem as if he doesn’t really want another driver.”

“Well, he doesn’t really know the project. He just heads ATC Engineering, which happens to be one of our major sponsors. ‘Cept he’s too old to run ATC right, so he’s brought himself to torment us instead. Would you care to head into my office? It’s just up a floor.”

For once, it seems as if everything’s falling in place.

* * *​

We’ve been negotiating for three hours now. It’s a difficult decision to make, but it looks like I’ve got a choice of two cars: either an Alfa tourer from the nineties, or an E-Type. I’m leaning towards the Alfa, because I drove one a bit back before my open-wheel career. Their number two was out with a broken arm, so I got to send it around Paul Ricard for a weekend.

“So, Mr. Young,” asks Allison, “Which one is it? The Jag or the Alfa?”

“I think I’m probably going to try the Alfa.”

Honestly, I’m having a very hard time deciding. Better to go with what I know, I guess.

“So, we are offering a contract to race all six events for £200,000 with an additional £100,000 for winning the series.”

“Excellent,” I respond. Frankly, I’m on the moon right now. I wasn’t expecting much more than half of what they’re willing to part with. “And about a courtesy car?”

“We would be willing to supply you with a TVR Tuscan during the series.”

“Marvelous. This is all more than I could ever ask for. Just tell me where I need to sign.”

As I roll the pen across the paper, my heart begins to race. I’m going to be back in the drivers’ seat again, and this time it’ll be in a car that I’ve always loved and remembered.

“So,” Mr. Allison says, “We’ll see you at Apricot Hill two Fridays from now.”

“Pleasure to be working with you.”

I shake Allison’s hand in an almost surreal way, as I can’t keep my mind from wandering away to two weeks from now. Then it will be time to make a name for myself all over again.

* * * * *​

Stay geared up for Part 3, which includes the first sessions at Apricot Hill. But after a few shocking sights, it is appearing that this may not just be another tournament. Will Young be ready for the next race, or will his nerves get the better of him yet again? Find out in the (finally) thrilling next installment of Velocità.

I'd also like to apologize because this chapter was nowhere near as good as the last. I promise the next one is better and will be coming very, very soon.

I've almost got the next one finished. I'd like a bit more support for this. I've been a bit busy recently, but my schedule is opening.

 

[Skyline49]

First off, terribly sorry for double (back-to-back) posting. I wouldn't, but I need to drum up some interest in the story to prevent this from happening again.

In this chapter, I will introduce the spelling of “kerb(s).” It is a proper spelling and it is the way it will be written in all future chapters.

I have also created a few touring cars that were not in GT4 to help fill out the roster. Most are marked with “Race Prepared.”

“Velocità”

Part 3: Forenoon​

The sun is shining brightly into my eyes. The horizon is very beautiful here, like a portrait. I instinctively touch the throttle, bringing the car up to the redline, an almighty 12,000RPM. I pull down on the shift lever to slot the Alfa into first. The revs drop and the tires let out a squeal as the car takes off with no wheelspin. The white line has passed, and I give the car some throttle out into the empty circuit.

The surge from the car is amazing. Because it makes its power high, it has no torque in the low end, so the wheels don’t slip an inch. They just propel the car forward. As the first corner looms, I begin to brake early. Just as I expected, the brakes are soft and not very grabby. Into the hard esses, it stays planted and smooth. No lose of grip coming off the kerbs, either.

Into the number six sweeper, I can feel the front tires straining. This car hates wide turns. Off the gas a bit to correct, and a slight tap of the brakes. Could’ve kept more speed easily. Could also just as easily have smacked the car into the wall. Now there’s a long straight heading down to a quick hairpin. Braking comes at about 40m out this round. That seems about right, but I dropped speed a bit too much. No lift through the 8/9 complex. Another sweeper, except tighter. A bit of safety braking leaves me on the inside exiting, which sets me up nicely to nearly straight-line the chicane. Higher kerbs here cause some understeer. I make a mental note to not do that next time. Coming up next is yet another long sweep…

What was that popping noise?

“James!” An urgent voice is coming over the radio, “James, we need you back in the pits. You’ve got a puncture from those kerbs. Be a bit more careful next time.”

I drop the car down a few gears and pull smoothly into the pitlane. I’d certainly have rather had a time posted, but the grouping apparently runs as a six-car field, with five different races. It’s not like F1, where this would basically mean the end of a competitive weekend.

* * *​

Apparently, the kerbing also cause suspension damage, so the car’s going to be out of commission until tomorrow’s warm-up.

Walking down the pitlane, I happen to notice an old friend of mine in one of the garages, so I decide to walk over and talk to him.

To the left, I notice something unusual out of the corner of my eye. A dark, shady man has just walked into the garage next to me, toward their driver. I stop and watch. Their voices are muffled, but I can make out a few words.

The shady man pulls out a briefcase and opens it towards the driver. I see the tops of a few money stacks inside. I estimate there’s about a hundred grand in the case, half of what I’m being paid for the series.

The shady man says a couple of sentences. I catch the words “trust,” “assurance,” and “finish.” He then says “fourth.” The driver nods his head and repeats “fourth.” I notice he’s taken the briefcase.

The shady man turns around to leave, and I turn to head back to my garage, too. For a split second, his eyes meet mine. The look on his face seems to say ‘you didn’t see anything.’ Before I can do anything, he throws his trenchcoat over his face and walks away.

* * *​

Wandering down the paddock, this morning’s events are still heavily on my mind. I’m a bit jittery and I keep wondering what’s going to turn out of this situation.

Glancing towards the garages, I notice that none of these cars are 90s touring cars. Directly in front of me is a Renault 5 and to the left is a Calsonic Skyline GT-R. Wait - I do notice a similar car to mine – there are two Opel Calibra’s in side-by-side pits. There are many other cars in the field that I wouldn’t usually associate with this type of racing. Many of them are rally cars. I think that it’s time to look at the roster.

Apparently, any Late ‘80s-‘90s Race Cars are allowed as long as they fit in with the performance regulations, which allow most FIA sanctioned road-based cars and some that are simply built off of road cars.

There are 30 cars in the field. Races are run in groups of six cars. Races are divided into twenty points per heat – 8 points for winning, 6 for second, 4 for third, 1 for fourth, and 1 for fastest lap. Amongst the entire group, you can also win 3 points for the fastest lap of the weekend, meaning a perfect weekend nets 12 points. Each team can run up to 2 cars, so a perfect weekend will net up to 21 points, depending on how their cars are divided.

There are 30 drivers which form 18 teams. They are divided as follows:

Funzionario Alfa – Alfa Romeo 155 Ti Touring Car
1. Jacques Lafleur
2. Rafael Hernandez
Renault Super – Renault 5 Turbo Rally Car
3. Alek Voronov
4. Noel Chastel
Konkurrenz Deutschland – BMW M Coupe Race Prepared
5. Johannnes Hoerner
6. Nico Moreno
ACT Race Team – Alfa-Romeo 155 Ti Touring Car
7. Donato Rossini
8. James Young
Porsche Factory – RUF BTR Race Prepared
9. Michael Morris
10. Julio Caldelas
Turbo Speed America – Cizeta V16T Race Prepared
11. Brian Brody
12. Jérome Ferrand
Scuderia Lancia – Lancia Delta HF Integrale Rally Car (Modified)
14. Morgan Blackwell
HKS Honda – Honda NSX Race Prepared
15. Jesse Sterling
16. Kaito Akimoto
Opel Factory Racing – Opel Calibra Touring Car
17. Connor Ryan
18. Anders Forsberg
Calsonic Nissan – Calsonic Nissan Skyline GT-R Race Car
19. Alfred Kruegel
20. Michel Barret
Pure Texas Racing – Chevrolet Corvette C4 Race Prepared
21. Bill Connors
Lawson Mitsubishi – Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution VI Race Prepared
22. Chad Wallace
Peugeot Moteur – Peugeot 205 Turbo 16 Rally Car
23. Geordi Maragos
24. Armande D'Aubigne
Conquest Racing – Dodge Viper GTS Race Prepared
25. Michael Morton
Maschine Mannschaft - Mercedes 190E 2.5 - 16 Evolution II Touring Car
26. Mario Basso
27. Yuri Popov
BGR Event Team – Opel Calibra Touring Car
28. Sebastian Luck
29. Alejandro Lopez
Jaguar Racing – Jaguar XJ220 Race Prepared
30. Carson Blakely
31. Samuel Perry

Nobody on the list rings a bell. They must all have driven in local when they were younger.

* * *​

A strange thought comes to mind – I still haven’t met my teammate, Donato Rossini. He was on top of the timesheets earlier, but I haven’t heard anything of him since.

A loud shriek comes from the Jaguar starting in an adjacent garage to where I’m currently standing. Why would they be restarting the car?

I glance at my watch and swear loudly.

“I’ve got to get back to my garage. It’s almost time for the race.”

* * * * *​

With the race finally looming, how will James cope with the pressure? Will he wreck the car again? And what about the man in the trenchcoat? Find out in the revealing next part of Velocità!

I’ve kindly split this chapter in two for you guys to get something out. I promise the racing starts next time. In fact, it should be ready very soon. Please keep the topic alive. It’s surely one of the better stories! Pace will be kept up, but I’d rather not have to post back-to-back parts again.

If you’d like to see something mentioned, give me a heads-up in this topic!

I’d like time to now to offer a huge thanks to =drifting24/7= for inspiring me to write a story. If it weren’t for Red-Line, this wouldn’t be here. You decide whether that’s good.

 

[The Megane Man]

Wow, this is really good! I cant wait for the next part!

 

[Skyline49]

“Velocità”

Part 4: Pursuit​

In the dark, there is no light. No vision. Not a sight. But in absolute brightness, there is also no vision. Too much light. Still not a sight. It is the grey in between where we must exist. Between the darkness and the blinding light. Between mountaintops and deep gorges. Between the great and the small. Between pure evil and godly heroics. Between life and spirit. Between…

Here, between understeer and oversteer. Between wheelspin and being out run. Between caution and danger. Between easy survival and a slow, painful death.

The first heat is over and now it’s my turn to step into the car to spin together twelve quick laps on a circuit I do not know, in a car I do not trust, against foes I know nothing of. It’s as if my day of judgment is finally here…

I rev the engine well, circulating fluids through the beating heart of this powerful monster. The exhaust rumbles in response and I let off, silencing the breath. It idles. My heart beats. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. I rev on and off to the tune of my heart. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. It grows faster and faster, louder and louder. I cannot constrain it any longer. The lights next to the track are mocking me. The crowd who has gathered are mocking me. They doubt I can hold on! It is they who cannot hold on! I will show them! I will run the greatest race these doubters have ever seen! Then who will be laughing but me!

The light turns green and I slip off, jumping to fifth on the light. By the first sweeper, I’ve gained enough ground on the Renault to pass him through the sweeper.

“Watch your pace, James,” comes a voice through my headset, “We don’t want another mishap. You’re already leading the Opel.”

“I don’t need to worry about it,” I reply, “I’ve got this Renault ahead of me. I’m fastest on race day.”

The car feels nice and smooth through the esses, much more composed than the blasted Renault that’s slowing my pace.

“Noel’s a great driver,” comes the crew chief, “You don’t need to pass him in a turn.”

“If I don’t pass him now, I can’t win the race!”

“We don’t need to win the race.”

“You don’t. I do.”

I push on. The Renault dodges left and I stay mostly straight. Now, entering the hairpin, I will make my move.

Steering input left, but not too much. Just enough to make him think I’m headed around the outside. Yes, he’s fallen for it! Now back to the inside for an easy, clean pass into the points!

Some cheering over the radio.

“Well done, James! We’re in the race now! Just try and keep the car on the road.”

If only it were that easy.

A hard bump comes from behind.

The damned Renault hit me!

Glancing in the mirror, I can see who’s driving the car. His face is hard to see, but I can make it out generally through his visor.

He wants to finish fourth.

* * *​

Four laps in, I’ve lost sight of the GT-R that had been running in third. My team has filled me in on the current situation. Recently, the #1 Alfa that had started from pole spun off in the sudden downpour. Unfortunately, I think I’m next. The Renault has stopped the assault, but only because I’ve put some room between us. I think he’s shattered his headlights, which is why I can’t see him. I don’t know how close he really is.

Almost finished the fourth lap. All that’s left is the final sweeper. On slicks. If it gets any worse, I’m pulling in for rain tires.

From the inside comes a spooling turbo. I can tell from the throttle response Noel isn’t happy with me. This sounds like a pass.

But now…silence…

Nothing other than my own car….

Emptiness….

The attack comes from the outside.

The little Renault smashes my quarter panel. I let off, hoping he’ll just pass, but he doesn’t. The steering wheel’s almost locked left, but the car is drifting right. Right towards the wall…

‘Everything is normal. My car’s in great shape. Looks like it’s going to be another easy victory for…
Wait. What’s just happened there? The steering was off through Ascari. I’m off for the entrance to Stewart. Not as it matters. Just a simple correction next time. Only four more laps once I cross the line.
Better bring the car down an extra 10k into Jones. Don’t want to be in the wall coming out of Brabham.
I’ll probably just radio to the team that I’m having slight problems. Seems odd they haven’t been calling on me recently…’

Then the thrusting force. The immense heat. And the immediate loss of power and control - and the horror of the wall just beyond the Whiteford gravel trap looming just ahead.
Then only blackness.

…I snap out of the trance in time to watch in horror as the rear of the Alfa gives away. It doesn’t happen quickly, like you’d expect in a powerful touring car. Instead, it is gradual. The wheels spin and it rotates ever so slowly right. Time slows to a crawl as the wall looms. The crunching of the chassis is quiet. All I can hear are the tires sliding over the water. Not a squeal to be heard, though. Just the water…

 

[Parnelli Bone]

dude, this is deep. You musta put a lot work & thought into listing all those names, too. 👍 +Rep

 

[killanite]

Loving this story, Keep it coming

 

[Smallhorses]

Without wishing to be picky, there's a bit of a continuity error here: The drivers for the Renault in Chapter 3 are listed as Alex & Armand.

Noel is listed as a Peugeot driver.

Otherwise it's flawless & entertaining. 👍

 

[phase3]

Nice story so far.
Keep up the good work

 

[Skyline49]

Holy replies, Batman!

I knew this chapter was good.

5 is about half done. It will lead right nito the second race.

The names were all randomly generated with some thought put in with respect to realism and countries.

Without wishing to be picky, there's a bit of a continuity error here: The drivers for the Renault in Chapter 3 are listed as Alex & Armand.

Thanks. I just flipped the teams second drivers around.

Just wondering, would it be preferred if Part 5 was long with some action or split up into 2 shorter chapters?

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Just wondering, would it be preferred if Part 5 was long with some action or split up into 2 shorter chapters?

2 shorter chapters! :0 But it's really up to you. I'm just speaking for myself here cuz i'll be busy this weekend with lots of stuff (gotta go in for surgery tomorrow to remove some sutures) so it's better for me since i wont have time to sit in front of the computer much this weekend. But whatever you wanna do is fine.

 

[Skyline49]

Good to know. I'll have Part 5 up tonight. I'd post now, but I need to get an image of the...um, well, that's kind of a secret.

 

[cestcertaindira]

This is absolutely brilliant!

Ever think of turning something like this into a book?

 

[Skyline49]

“Velocità”

Part 5: Practice​

After last week’s incident, I am nervous. The trenchcoat man is outside right now, pacing. Waiting.
All the main lights are dimmed. My Monaco apartment is large, so some rooms don’t have windows. They are safe. In the kitchen, there is a small window near the sink that Is hard to see from the outside. That’s where I am now.

The man has gone to sit on a bench near where he had been pacing. I can’t see his face from the angle. It’s become now that he is angry. Of course, the little blunder in Belgium didn’t help my cause. Why hadn’t I let that little Renault by? Why had I held him up? Why…

”James, you need to keep that Renault behind you.”

Really shallow thought, eh?

“Why? Shouldn’t I just let him past?”

Probably.

“We need the points, James.”

Guess that didn’t work out, huh?

“Really, it’s not worth it to wreck the car. Can I please just let him past?”

“If you do, don’t come to Monaco on Grand Prix weekend.”

Might not be going now, if this keeps up.

“Whatever. I’ll just try to hold him off for the rest of the race.”

That turned out well, now didn’t it?

In a week, the Grand Prix’s coming and the league’s finally secured the right to run the course this weekend. Really spectacular area to race these beautiful machines. The way the sun hits the harbour past the Swimming Pool is just so beautiful…

The telephone rings.

Sneaking across the room, I manage to make it back to the living room and the phone on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“James?” replies the familiar voice of my engineer, John Thomas, “What’s happening up there?”

“Oh, ‘lo John. Well, not much right now. The man in the trenchcoat is still outside.”

“Describe him to me.”

“Well, he’s fairly tall. About six foot three-ish. Light skinned and quite skinny. He’s got a rat-like look to his face, and he’s really dark. His trenchcoat’s neat and tan-brown.”

“Has he made a direct threat to you yet? If he has, you could just call the police.”

“No, nothing. I don’t even thinks he knows which building I’m in. He keeps looking between the two.”

“I’ll call up the police anyway. Maybe we can get him to leave. You go get some rest and I’ll call you back when He’s gone.”

* * *​

I’ve probably been laying on my bed for ten minutes at the most, but it feels like three weeks. I’ve just got to relax and fall asleep. I need to get some rest…

‘Everything is normal. My car’s in great shape. Looks like it’s going to be another easy victory for…
Wait. What’s just happened there? The steering was off through Ascari. I’m off for the entrance to Stewart. Not as it matters. Just a simple correction next time. Only four more laps once I cross the line.
Better bring the car down an extra 10k into Jones. Don’t want to be in the wall coming out of Brabham.
I’ll probably just radio to the team that I’m having slight problems. Seems odd they haven’t been calling on me recently…’

Then the thrusting force. The immense heat. And the immediate loss of power and control - and the horror of the wall just beyond the Whiteford gravel trap…

The phone rings, immediately waking me up. The clock says it’s 3:10, so I’ve been asleep for about twenty minutes. My throat is extremely dry. I head over to the kitchen and turn on the tap.

The phone rings again and I jump, startled. I remember what was happening and pick up the phone.

“James,” comes a voice who is clearly John, “Apparently the police were just at your building. They made the man leave, but they couldn’t arrest him.”

“That means I can turn my lights on now?”

“Yes, but there’s something more important to discuss. I’m with the inspector now. He would like to know if you’ve ever seen the man before.”

“Yes, John. I have. I have…”

* * *​

Even at crawling speeds, it is still difficult to drive around Monaco. Unfortunately, I’m now in an Alfa 155 Ti, so I’m going rather quickly.

Luckily, Noel’s been “removed” from the championship. Word around the paddock is that his racing license has been revoked.

Coming out of Noghes, the car feels quite a lot more solid. Apparently, this is actually a new car, since the last had been completely destroyed. Apparently, the car flipped several times and the race had to be red-flagged, meaning I “finished” fourth.

The pit garages have disappeared to the right, so I get ready for Sainte Devote. Braking came a bit late and I miss the reassuring feel of the inner rumble strips. Up through Beau Rivage, I’m able to take a straight line because nobody came out of the pitlane.

The car gets airborne into Massenet, but not severely enough to cause me any trouble. Flipping around down through Casino, the Alfa loses traction at the back. I deftly correct by easing off the throttle.

The first Mirabeau, Haute, is a very tight hairpin. With a slight powerslide going in, I narrowly avoid the guardrail. The Grand Hairpin is the hardest part of the entire course. Down to first gear, I let the car completely round the corner to avoid understeering into the wall. While not fast, it’s the safest way other than staying home.

The second Mirabeau immediately follows. Bas is a shorter corner than Haute, but it shares a tight exit. Dipping into the recess on the short straight, I brake a little extra going into Portier to avoid an incident similar to Senna’s. Now comes Tunnel, a flat-out sweeper heading down to the bay.

Feeling the rumble strips on all sides through the Nouvelle chicane, I blast off down toward Tabac and Louis Chiron. These corners begin the tight waterfront esses. Today, the sides are all walled up, unlike the F1 event where there is some run-off. Flying past the Swimming Pool, I can faintly hear some people cheering. Not many people come to the open practice, but today is different.

Many of these spectators are here for the Grand Prix. Normally, the roads are opened again for the Friday, but today they are treated with a race instead.

Down past the Rascasse café, the car is yet again stable. Stepping on the throttle hard reveals slight lag here, but it goes away as I lift off for Anthony Noghes again.

* * * * *​

I’ve split this up into 2 parts. The rest will be available as Part 6 later on.

 

[killanite]

Great chapter once again... well written as usual.. and the driving description is great... can't wait for part 6

 

[Parnelli Bone]

vero coolio

 

[Skyline49]

“Velocità”

Part 6: Holding Off​

Through the warm-up lap, the skies are getting darker. Rain is not expected until the fourth heat.

From my timed lap, I sit third on the grid. In front are smaller cars - Alek Voronov pulled off pole in the remaining Renault and Geordi Maragos is in the 205 Turbo. Directly behind me is Mario Basso. He’s in a Mercedes 190E. He’s closer to my bumper than any F1 driver would dare to be. Even further back is the only man from the Land of the Rising Sun, Kaito Akimoto. Behind him is Bill Connors, driving a race prepared Corvette. I doubt he’ll put up a threat here, though. The car’s a bit unrefined.

The safety car’s pulled in, and we glide through Anthony Noghes. Today is a rolling start, so I don’t have to stop on the grid. Through the first turn, Connors has made a move on Akimoto, but understeered into him. I doubt there will be a full-course caution, though.

Once the cars separate, I notice the Mercedes is locked on me like a heat-seeking missile. Out front, the French cars have pulled a few dozen metres ahead of our battle. Maybe three tenths. Dodging left and right through Massenet, the Mercedes locks into an understeer and has to let off.

Down into Casino the Alfa shudders in the back again, so I am forced to make a mid turn exit. The Mercedes is now back on my tail again. I immediately notice, on my windshield, the first few drops of rain.

* * *​

Basso doesn’t want to let up. Five laps in and he’s still on my tail. The rain is still extremely scarce, so I haven’t been called into the pits yet. The sky is still very dark.

Out of the sweeping tunnel, Basso moves left – to the inside of the first part of the chicane.

Risking it all, I feint the Alfa out, appearing to give Basso the line. Immediately before braking, I swing the car back in the close the door. What must the TV audiences be thinking?

Through the second half, the car is drifting slightly, but I get on the throttle anyways. It looks like it was just a slide, because the weight shift sends grip to the wheels and straightens the car out heading down to Tabac.

The Mercedes has dropped back slightly, but I still can’t slow yet.

“James,” comes the familiar voice of Thomas, “I’m just calling to say that Carl says you need to get to second, or you’re fired.”

“Carl?” I reply as I whisk the car through Swimming Pool.

“He’s our Principal.”

As I accidentally let the back out through Rascasse, “Ah. Why haven’t I met him…crap…before?”

”What happened?”

“I just got a little loose, that’s all.”

“Try to save the tires.”

“Damn the tires, I’m trying to save my life.”

“Keep up the good work, anyways.”

The radio clicks off. Up ahead, I can just see the Renault pulling around Sainte Devote.

Early braking. Okay, I’ve got to ace this turn. Okay, just up to the right for Massenet, good work there. He’s closer now.

“James!” calls Thomas again, “Safety car’s out! Akimoto got into Basso and Connors got a flat from the debris. He’s pitted. Once he rejoins, you’ll be set to take the Pug for second!”

“Everything’s falling into place, isn’t it!”

* * *​

Trailing behind the safety car, my tires have gotten cold. The rain eased up, so Connors had to pit again for dry tires. The track’s clear, so the safety car will pull in this lap.

“James, you’ve got four laps to slide around Maragos.”

“You say it like I don’t know.”

“I just want to remind you to get a good start.”

“I’ll have him by the Grand Hairpin.”

“Okay, James, just don’t get shunted.”

“It’s my top priority.”

“Y’know, you don’t have to be sarcastic.”

“Sure.”

“Just make the start.”

Frankly, he’s right. The pressure is piling up. If I don’t get a good start, I might not get another shot at the Peugeot.

The marshal has waved the green flag.

“Go, go, go!”

I step on the throttle and the Alfa lurches forward, toward Sainte Devote.

In front, the Renault has pulled a few lengths away. Connors is on me for a short time, but fades at the first turn. Up through Beau Rivage, I shadow the Peugeot, looking for an opening, but nothing comes.

“James,” it’s Thomas again, “I’ve noticed he’s weak through Mirabeau Haute.”

“And that’s…”

“Right after Casino.”

“Told you.”

“Just get past him.”

I brake early through Casino, setting up a fast entrance onto the short straight toward Haute.

The Pug dives in, but I can clearly tell that his line is wrong. It’s time to make my move.

The Alfa turns in well. If this keeps up, I’ll make mincemeat of him.

Suddenly, the car slides out. It’s only a few inches, but enough to block me out. I’m now side-by-side with a Peugeot 205 Turbo heading towards the tightest turn in any professional circuit.

* * * * *​

A good time to end the chapter, no?

 

[Parnelli Bone]

Can't believe your pit boss said "make 2nd or you're fired". What a hardass.

 

[Skyline49]

WOOT! Early release!

The engineer got angry when Young refused to stay in position, thus destroying a car and taking away points from the team.

“Velocità”

Part 7: Risking It All​

Suddenly, the car slides out. It’s only a few inches, but enough to block me out. I’m now side-by-side with a Peugeot 205 Turbo heading towards the tightest turn in any professional circuit.

The Peugeot pushes outward, into my door. Only 20 metres till the braking zone.

]‘Everything is normal. My car’s in great shape. Looks like it’s going to be another easy victory for…
Wait. What’s just happened there? The steering was off through Ascari. I’m off for the entrance to Stewart. Not as it matters. Just a simple correction next time. Only four more laps once I cross the line.
Better bring the car down an extra 10k into Jones. Don’t want to be in the wall coming out of Brabham.
I’ll probably just radio to the team that I’m having slight problems. Seems odd they haven’t been calling on me recently…’

Then the thrusting force. The immense heat. And the immediate loss of power and control - and the horror of the wall just beyond the Whiteford gravel trap looming just ahead.
Then only blackness.

God, I’ve got to focus here. One wrong move and I’m into the wall.

15 metres… 10 metres... 5… NOW!

The Peugeot turns in hard, and I follow. Glancing left, I can see the fear in his eyes even through the helmet. He thinks this is the end.

Steady, now. Half-way through. I can’t lose it now. It feels like eons since the turn-in, but it’s really been maybe 2 seconds.

I’ve never felt the need to drive two wide on even the widest circuits, but this is different. But is it?

We’re still side-by-side heading into Portier. The bloody Peugeot won’t let up! Dammit, Maragos, just let me through!

Then it all becomes suddenly clear…

“James,” Thomas calls, “What’s happening? We’ve got reports that you’re two wide with the Pug!”

I swing the car through Portier and let off the throttle, “We were, but I’ve just let him through.”

“Why? We need you in second!”

“Just get your ears from the Rascasse Café to watch. They’ll see quite well.”

“James… you’re not…”

“You wanted me by.”

“I wanted you by through Mirabeau! This is very unwise!”

“You wanted second.”

* * *​

The Alfa dances over the kerbs of Swimming Pool. I’m hot on the tracks of the 205 and I should be able to out brake him here. The track sweeps through an unnamed turn into the last hairpin. It is almost like a very short double-apex. The Pug ducks wide and turns in hard, so I counter with a faster, lazier approach.

Looking left, I notice the Peugeot’s brake lights flash again. He’s gone in too fast! I let off to make sure I clear the turn.

“Marvelous pass, James!”

“Yeah. How many more laps?”

“Only three. Just try to hold it together until the finish.”

It should be no problem, seeing as the Peugeot’s already faded from sight by Massenet.

* * *​

The media room is packed – probably to learn of how we managed to keep such a scintillating duel.

“Mister Young,” one reporter calls, “I’m Tricia Nelson for BBC2. How did you get the idea to pass through the hairpin?”

“Well,” I begin to reply, “I really don’t know. I didn’t want to – I was trying to pass through Mirabeau but the car slipped out.”

Immediately the next question:

“James,” I recognize this voice. It’s that of Peter Windsor, “Peter Windsor for Speed TV in America: I’m sure everyone is concerned about the safety of your driving today. Do you care to defend yourself?”

I pause over the question, thinking back.

Really, a near suicide into Mirabeau, side-by-side through the Grande Hairpin, being forced out through Portier, and nearly killing him at Rascasse. Seems safe enough.

“No. I believe that my driving was safe enough. If Mr. Maragos had given me room exiting Mirabeau everything would have been fine.”

“Mr. Maragos, do you have an opinion on this issue?”

“Certainly. It is in my humble opinion that Mr. Young’s driving was most unbecoming of a racer of his pedigree. The last time I have seen such disregard for safety was at the bumper cars at the fair.”

A few chuckles come from the room, but most people are simply ignoring the ‘joke.’

“Finally, before we question our race winner, do you believe the FIA will launch an official inquiry into this race?”

Maragos went first, “I would hope not. While the driving was unsafe, I really feel that this man deserves his position.”

“And Mr. Young?”

“I’m British and I recently had a test for McLaren. So yes.”

The reporters seem to laugh more at my joke than Maragos’.

Peter Windsor has moved on, “Mr. Voronov, how did you manage such a dominating…”

* * * * *​

I’d just like to say that I will not likely be posting a new chapter before the New Year, or at very most one more. Thanks for your continued support and Happy Holidays!

 

[Skyline49]

“Velocità”

Part 8: Cobbles​

Prior to the upcoming night race, Thomas has sent me to learn how cobblestone affect grip.

One particular loop between Concorde Place and Opera Place has very similar surfaces to sections of the ‘George Paris” street circuit. I’d be out there practicing, but the track is still being set up. Oddly enough, the roads are clear around here today.

The Tuscan is a bit jumpy, but that’s all in its character. If TVR had made subtle cars, they wouldn’t have any reputation. I’ll probably pick up one of these when I get home.

Behind me comes a flash of high-beams. Surely they don’t assume that I want to race here. As they draw near, I can tell who it is – Rossini. I pull over and so does he.

“Nice driving last week, Mr. Young.”

“Thanks, Donato. I hear you didn’t quite have the same luck.”

“No, I lost first on the starting grid and stalled trying to launch in second.”

“Tough luck.”

“You can say that again.”

“Tough luck.”

“Lord,” Donato says as he slugs me, “Where did we ever find you?”

Assuming it was rhetorical, I don’t answer. Glancing left, I can clearly see his car, a pristine 1973 Lancia Stratos. Bright red.

“Where’d you find that beauty?”

“It was my fathers,” Donato sheds a tear, “I can’t really speak of how I ended up with it though.”

“It’s fine.”

“Yes, I guess,” he immediately changes the subject,” Hey, do you want to go for a drive tomorrow? There’s a beautiful road right down by the ocean. A couple hairpins, essentially. Usually deserted, because it’s a tourist resort. Very gorgeous area. Also, no speed limit! We’ll get to test out your TVR!”

“Sure, I’ll meet you there. Just give me the directions.”

* * *​

After flying around the resort for a few hours, it’s finally time to stop for lunch.

“So, Donato, I’ve heard that you’re going to be in my heat back in Paris.”

“Apparently. It’s not often that teammates get to race together, so this is a great opportunity to learn what we’ve each got.”

“Have you seen the circuit yet?”

“No, though I do have a map,” Donato responds, as he pulls a map from his pocket, “See, it starts here, along Champs Elysees.”

I nod, pretending to know where that is.

‘Then,” as he traces his finger, “It follows around the Charles de Gaulle roundabout – the one with the giant arch in the middle.”

Finally, I do know where it is.

“Then it traces around some ninety-degree corners and ends up on George V Avenue, where the track gets its name from. Then it turns back to Champs Elysees for another lap. It’s about two and a half k around.”

“How are the streets?”

“They’re… okay.”

“How do you mean?”

“Drivable.”

“At race speed?”

“I didn’t think so, but apparently the FIA does.”

“Great.”

The waitress has arrived.

Donato begins conversing in rapid French.

“She would like to know what you would like, James.”

“I’d like… um… J'aimerais un… sandwich de club… sans les… condiments, s'il vous plaît.”

The waitress giggles.

“Do you want a club sandwich?” Donato asks.

“Yes. With no condiments.”

“Okay. You were a bit off, mostly in pronunciation.”

Donato begins conversing again in French.

The waitress takes the menus and leaves.

“She says it may be a while – they need to bake more bread. In the meantime, I’m going for another run of the pass. Would you like to come?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just hold our table.”

Donato strides away and slides into the Lancia. The engine roars when he starts it. Such a beautiful car in such a beautiful setting just shouldn’t be allowed. Many people along the roads turn to watch as he carefully eases up to 50km/h then unleashes out along the coastal road. I continue to watch in awe until the car rounds the hairpin at the end of the wharf.

A squeaky voice in broken English comes from behind me.

“Sir, I have… um, how do you say, made a mistake? We do have the bread.”

She sets down our sandwiches.

“Thank you.”

She smiles, and then looks confused, “The other man…”

“He went for a drive.”

“Ah. That was his car? Such a beautiful machine. If only I could have seen it.”

“Hang around. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

* * *​

Twenty minutes have passed now. I’ve eaten my sandwich and the waitress, Aurore, has bagged up Donato’s. She’s gone back to work, but I can see she seems concerned.

Suddenly, a fat man comes running out of the kitchen at her, yelling in rapid French. She hurries over to me.

“Please, come quick. There has been an… accident. I must get my – my father’s - car. You can head up first. I will meet you there. He says you cannot miss it.”

Immediately, I hurry over to the TVR and start it up. A few heads turn as I take off hard, leaving a layer of rubber along the ground. I ignore the cries of a few who are yelling for me to slow down. In the mirror, I can see an Alpine pull out from an alleyway, also at a fast rate. It quickly drops away from sight.

Rounding the first turn, there’s no sign of anything wrong, except that there are no tourists on the sidewalk. The road goes up into another hairpin. Still no tourists. Behind me, I catch a quick glance of the Alpine in my mirror, just exiting the first turn.

After two more hairpins, I begin to see people, all heading in the same direction. Avoiding people, the road finally levels out into a sweeper with a drop-off on one side. I still can’t see anything ahead, but I do glance in my mirror and notice just how close the Alpine is.

* * * * *





“Velocità”

Part 9: Downhill Demon​

Pulling up to the crash site, I’m greeted by the sight of the Lancia pushed up against the guardrail. It isn’t damaged badly and probably still runs, but the bodywork is not in great shape. As I step out of the car, Donato wanders away from an ambulance.

“Donato, are you okay?” I yell, worryingly, “And how’s the car?”

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine. It needs some bodywork done, but it still runs nicely. It also needs most of the front suspension and steering components replaced, but they weren’t exactly in great shape before.”

“What caused the crash, then?”

“It might be time to tell you how my father died…

“It was 1981. Late August. The roads were clear from tourists and the leaves hadn’t fallen yet. It was a perfect time for a good race. He decided to challenge a local rally driver. Trennent was his name. He had an original, unrestored Alpine A310. A very gorgeous car. Anyways, my father had easily driven away on the uphill section, but was passed heading downhill, through the tightest corners on the course. The spectators had said how magical the pass was, like nothing they had ever seen. Unfortunately, the Alpine began to drive away, so my father picked up his pace to catch up. He crashed into the same wall where I did today. He told the paramedics that there had been a black saloon that he had tried to avoid, but none of the spectators saw anything. Some even claimed the road was gated and closed. Nobody will know – my father died soon after.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Donato.”

“Really, now that I’ve told someone, it isn’t so…”

I turn to realize why Donato has stopped.

“Madame, you are..”

“Aurore. Aurore Trennent.”

“And that is your Alpine?”

“Oui.”

* * *​

After repairing the car, Donato said he wanted to race Aurore down the mountain and have me video from behind. After rigging the tripod up, we’re finally ready for the run.

“I’ll lead.” Donato called.

“Alright. You can go whenever you are ready.”

Aurore lined the Alpine up behind the Lancia.

After sitting for about ten seconds, Donato suddenly takes off into the right-hand sweeper. Aurore misses the start a bit, but easily catches up to the battle through the turn.

Heading down into the tight left-hander, I can see that Donato is pulling away. He brakes well into the turn and takes a nice easy inside line. I expect Aurore to do the same. Instead, she deftly feints out and swings the cars along the outside of the turn. I still take it faster in my modern TVR, however. Now the track swings left and right and down another steep drop. Donato takes a conservative line whereas Aurore jumps over the sidewalk, struggling to catch the more powerful Lancia. Through the hairpin, it is again a touring car line against a rally line, though less severe. It’s now a short sprint down to the tightest hairpins on the course.

The first left-hander approaches quickly. Donato heads outside, but Aurore stays inside. At the last second, she flips out and around the Lancia in an enormous drift. The car glides gracefully wide as the Lancia is locked on the slow inside line. Aurora is a mere foot from the barricade. Donato still leads on the exit, but Aurore swings the Alpine to the outside. Into the right hairpin, Aurore glides around the outside of the Lancia cleanly, particularly because of the wide exit. She continues to accelerate before braking and pulling into the Café parking lot.

As I pull up in the TVR, I can see Donato getting out of his Lancia in shock. He is obviously as befuddled by Aurore’s driving as I am.

“Young, I need to see that video. I can’t see how I got passed!”

“Don’t worry; I’ll just play it through the camera.”

The video starts as normal the cars take off and follow the tight hairpins downward until the consecutive switchbacks. As the video shows my car accelerating and the Alpine flipping across the road, the video suddenly stops.

“What happened to the feed?”

“I... don’t know. It still says that there’s forty seconds left, but it won’t go to them.”

“Christ,” Donato begins as he starts to walk away, hands on the back of his head, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Listen,” I offer to him, “Just ignore today. We’ll be back in Paris for practice soon enough. That’s a sure thing.

* * * * *​

Even if he can forget about the Downhill Demon A310, that will turn out to be the least of his worries. The secrets and twists will be revealed in the next part of Velocità!

Also, don’t think that the story will end when the nostalgia series does – that will be only the beginning.

If anyone is curious, our female protagonist/antagonist is loosely named after musician Charles Trenet, who originally penned “La Mer,” which later became the Bobby Darin hit “Beyond the Sea.”

 

[Popeye]

Great read. You write a good story

 

[Skyline49]

“Velocità”

Part 10: 246R Monster – The First Volume ​

“What do you mean?”

“You heard me James – Hoerner shunted around de Gaulle and killed forty or fifty people. The FIA has pulled its support from the event; Funzionario, Konkurrenz, Turbo Speed, and Mannschaft all withdrew their entries. It’s a damned disaster. They’re already removing the barriers and decorations.”

“Why the hell do they think they can do that?”

“Who knows – they can do what they want in our series.”

“I guess I’m out of the job, right?”

“You are, James. I am too.”

“Well..” I can’t come up with anything to say, “Um… good luck then, Donato. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“You probably will. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go catch a plane back to my summer home in the Bahamas. “

With that, Donato begins to gather his things and walk towards a waiting cab. As it pulls off, I’m still absolutely shocked. This is really the end. Of course, I’ll still get paid in full even though I only raced twice. Now the only decision is where to head next.

* * *​

NDRチューニング社 [NDR Tuning Co.] – Akasaka, Tokyo, Japan

So that’s what we’ve gone for. To start anew in Japan, to test ultimate street speed. With a couple cool million, I can launch to the highest tier if I want.

Just off the C1 loop is another highway – the 246. It doesn’t have the heritage of the C1 or Wangan (or even the Yokohane, for that matter), but it is still very fast and well-suited for highway racing.

Car dealerships are sparse right in this area, but I might have hit the jackpot with this tuning shop.

“Mr. Young,” speaks the owner, in near-fluent English, “I have heard of you before. I followed you more in Formula Three, but I have always been a fan of yours. Anyways, I have a few cars that you might be interested in. If you would come this way…”

The first car shown to me is a light blue Audi TT. It spent a few months on the Wangan, pushing about 540ps from the six. Unfortunately, it just looks like too much trouble to really be worth it, so I request to head on to a second car.

“This SL is a pure-bred racing machine,” the shop owner tries to explain, “All it needs is a bit of body bracing.”

All it need was body bracing, except it’s warped beyond belief. The 700ps engine is tempting, no doubt, but the body really doesn’t sell the car.

We go through many others that are very interesting – mostly BMWs, a RUF, and a couple American cars, but only one really catches my eye as being special. Oddly enough, it is a Toyota Soarer.

“Sir… excuse me,” the clerk continued, not noticing my plea, “Sir, how much for the Soarer over there?”

“The Soarer?” he finally turns to listen, “Why do you want such a low-brow car? I assumed you were looking for a car that is, ah, higher end.”

“Well, actually, yes. However, it just caught my eye and I found it rather interesting.”

“Maybe you would like to come closer and see it better?”

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Excellent.” The clerk heads over and pops the bonnet to reveal a lightly tuned 2.5, “This car used to run a bit around the Fuji-Hakone-Izu park. It makes maybe 360ps. The interior is also stripped, though not reinforced.”

“How much would it cost for you to part with it?”

“Ah, I think I could sell it for five point six.”

“What is that, around £40000?”

“I believe so, yes.”

I cringe a little at the price, but quickly make a comeback offer, “How about four even?”

“Four million seems low. If you absolutely must, I will go down to four point three. Thirty thousand Pounds Sterling.”

“Y’know what, I just might take you up on that offer.”

* * *​

In preparation for a few races over the next few weeks, I decide to take the car straight out onto the nearby 246 loop. Pulling onto the fast straight, A BMW M3 shoots straight passed me, barely missing the brand-new Toyota. I immediately step on the throttle. With only 360ps, the car jumps to life and roars down toward the M3. The BMW ducks right at an intersection and I follow shortly afterward.

Only a few hundred metres ahead is an s-bend. The M3 shifts lanes like a race car, but I’m surprisingly able to follow it in the Soarer. The gap is down to about 30m. The car gets a bit loose through the exit, but not badly.

Down through the next few long turns, the Toyota stays stable and composed. By the Marunochi turnaround, the BMW is only a few feet from my front bumper. I accelerate hard down Sotobori, edging to the inside of the BMW. I’ll only get one shot at it. If I make a mistake, there’ll be BMW all over the rail and Toyota all over the BMW.

The Shutoko corner looms. I move my left hand to the gearshift as I prepare to brake hard and drop a gear or two. As we rocket towards the turn, the M3 suddenly brakes and begins to turn in. I immediately follow suit. There’s nearly no clearance, but I pass cleanly. Throttle on out of the turn; I get ready for the Akasaka turnaround.

A tug the handbrake entering, but use the throttle to use all of the wide exit. The 2.5 Turbo whines as it reaches the top of the RPM band. By now, the M is at least 50m back from me.

As I roar down the Aoyama Dori, the BMW drops farther and farther back. Nearing the kink, he’s over 100m off my tail.

When I drive the Toyota hard through the turn, it occurs to me to let off to prevent engine damage. The BMW is completely out of my sights by now.

I slow down and take the first left exit that I see. Even though it is fast, the Soarer is very composed at low speeds. After about seven minutes of driving, I finally reach my little garage in the Shimbashi area of Akasaka. It sits midway between 246, C1, and the ShinKanjou, which also connects to the Yokohane and Wangan. It’s a mildly industrial area and my garage is part of a split warehouse.

I turn off the car and head to the bedroom. It feels like midnight even though it’s only noon. Besides, I’ve got a bit of racing to do tonight.

* * * * *​

The next few chapters will focus on a new rival to James - the "246R Monster." Just remember - this ain't Initial D, so don't expect a one-shot last-minute win from James. In fact, don't expect a win at all. In this scene, races aren't set to a fixed destination or time - you just drive until one guy quits or crashes.

Also strung into the mix will be a few races on an unnamed loop in the Nagoya area.

Also, if you don't like the looks of the 360ps, baby-blue, de-badged Soarer, don't forget that cars tend to evolve into newer ones. I have 3 planned major changes to the car.

I'd like to hear from you about what you'd like to see next, so drop me a line in this topic!

Edits:
-slight fix in continuity

 

[GT-R]

I just read all chapters and there's one word I can say to you, Skyline49: WONDERFUL! .. The story is well written and is really deep, so I'm going to look up this thread for the next update

Go on this way and best wishes 👍,

S-Line Audi Fan

 

[Jonn 79]

nice story you've got going on there. i like the notion of a demon alpine heh.

 

[Skyline49]

“Velocità”

Part 11: A-way A-way Down South in Nagoya ​

… got this little somethin' that's so hard to define;
And I wish that little somethin' was mine, all mine, all mine! (woo!)

And ol' Plain Jane won't cha come out tonight, come out tonight, come
out tonight.
Plain Jane won't cha come out tonight, spend some time…

I flip over and slam the alarm clock off. Set it too damn loud. Too bad, because I really like Darin’s voice. Glancing out the window, I notice that it’s getting dark. Time to head out to Nagoya. I stagger out of bed and head over the get dressed. After slipping on a nice shirt, I grab the keys off the dresser and head out to the garage area.

This place is gloomy, but it’ll look better when the tools and posters come in. I get in the Soarer and rev it loudly. Sounds fine. I pop the car into reverse and set the handbrake. I jump out and jog to the door, which goes up with just a light push. After I back the car out, I slide it back down.

After a few seconds, I decide not to accelerate too hard. I feather the throttle and drive off easily. There’s no need to drive hard – I won’t be running the Wangan with 360ps.

* * *​

After a few hours at the speed limit, I pull off onto the SS5 loop, somewhere North of Nagoya. It’s small and deserted – the perfect place to find a few racers. I toll around the loop endlessly, waiting for a race. Heading out of the esses on the third pass, I notice something – a Subaru STi on the off ramp. I immediately shift to second and give the car some gas.

After a turnaround, the battle is on. The Impreza drives hard out of the easy left and I follow about seventy metres back. I get some wheelspin, but not much. Down the long back straight, I slowly catch the Subie up. The easy right-left combination is still hundreds of metres ahead of us. I slip left into his slipstream and shift to fifth.

I quickly get sucked up to his bumper. There’s maybe one hundred metres to the braking zone, so I make my move now.

I swing the car right and cleanly pass. I continue to accelerate off from him until the braking zone, where I drop a gear and head into the tunnel. I keep pulling away. The turns are up next and I put more space on him here. The final segment will be the long straight. Once I fly past that, the race will be done.

Through the sweeper, I’ve put a county mile between the car. Now all that’s left is to impress anyone who might be watching. I stomp on the throttle and send the car wildly down the straight. I can barely even see my opponent in the mirror.

I finally let up and slow down through the turns. Rather than take the exit back to the loop, I bear right – towards the Wangan. And home.

But at the last second, something catches my eye.

Heading down the ramp is another Impreza, this one black. I immediately swing the Toyota left and get right on his bumper.

We swing through the turnaround and he guns the Subaru. I follow suit, but I lose about 20 metres on him. About halfway down, I head into his slipstream and attempt to pass, but I can’t. I just don’t have enough power to do it. I push the pedal as hard as I can, but it’s of no use. There’s nothing left to give. I slowly pull even with the Subaru when it shifts.

Though, I have to shift, and he pulls well ahead through the tunnel. I keep the throttle pinched, keeping near him through the left-hand sweeper. On the exit, I make a late-braking dive for the inside.

I easily slide ahead, but I’m going too slow, so he speeds past into the short straight.

I dive for the inside again, but he holds me off. On the second half of the corner, I run hard and wide. We’re still about even.

Through the esses, we trade positions repeatedly.

We’ve finally come to the end of one lap. As we head toward the exit ramp, the Subaru driver accelerates much harder than earlier up to the turn.

But he runs wide. This is my opportunity – I dive inside and keep the car running hard.

Entering the main straight, I’m only a few metres back – and I’ve got pace on him.

I dive to the left and accelerate hard. He does too, but he can’t match my speed out of the corner.

As quickly as he pulled out his lead, he’s fallen behind for the final time. He flashes his lights a few times and pulls to the outside of the tunnel. I stop just behind him. The door opens and a fat bloke gets out. He’s not Japanese, though. He definitely looks European…

“Bonjour, Monsieur Young,” he says through my open window, “My name is Jacques Lafleur.”

* * * * *​

The driver of the No. 1 Alfa, M. Lafleur, also appears to have made a trip to Japan. And he’s brought a friend with him. Tied up in this, how will James react to being utterly pounded by Aoyami-dori (Route 246)’s famed “Monster?” All this in the next installment of Velocità.

 

[Skyline49]

“Velocità”

Part 12: The Deadly GT-R​

NDRチューニング社 [NDR Tuning Co.]

“So, Mr. Young,” Lafleur starts, “You’ve ended up in Japan too, I see. Oddly enough, I actually own this company. We built it back in 2000 to build a particular car. It was a light blue Lotus Esprit. We did everything to that car that we could at the time – we pushed about 500ps out of it. For a few years, we watched over the owner, continually upgrading the car up to around 550ps. We didn’t want to, we told him, put any more power through the rear wheels. Frankly, 550 was it for us. We didn’t have the money or means to go higher. So he left us for another company. Within weeks, he had dominated the 246 and the Lotus became known as the “Monster.” By the time we saw it again, it had so much power you had to launch it in third gear.”

“Christ,” I reply, “Where’s it now?”

“Still around. But there’s still more to the story. In 2004, we started building another ‘Monster.’ By then, we had enough money to do whatever we wanted. The R33 that we chose is so different from what it is now. Only the left rear fender is from the original car. Come with me. I’ll show it to you.”

We wander to the back of the shop, where a Blue GT-R sits, covered in dust. It’s no normal GT-R – it sits much lower and the tires are wider. It also sports a large rear wing. Lafleur pops the bonnet.

“Unrecognizable,” I say, “That’s still from a GT-R?”

“At one time, yes. We started with an engine from an LM Limited and then built it up to this. The block is all that hasn’t been replaced. Instead, we bored it out. Either 3000 or 3200. I can’t remember. Then we swapped the internals and eventually the other parts, like the turbos and the chip. Our last dyno gave us about 780ps.”

“Christ.”

“You want to drive it?”

“No way. I think I’ll be happy with my Toyota for now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” I call back as I walk out of the shop, towards my Soarer. I start the car and head back out onto the 246.

* * *​

After running three laps, I still can’t get the GT-R out of my head. Almost 800ps. Christ, I’m only pushing 360. To hell with it, I only need 360. There’s no reason for more.

Immediately, a bright blue reason flies by.

I stamp on the throttle, but the Lotus disappears down the road.

I keep pushing, but I can’t see him after the chicane. I catch a glimpse as I round the hard right, but then I pull off to the left and give up. I just don’t have any… power. Nothing. The car is completely useless. I must catch the Monster. If there’s nothing else afterward, I don’t care. As long as I catch the Lotus.

* * *​

I toll around the ring and pull the Toyota back into NDR.

“Lafleur!” I call out, “I want to drive the Skyline now!”

Lafleur walks out from beside the building and stomps out a cigarette, “Let me guess, you just met the Lotus, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Simple – that’s why they always come back.”

I stand there slack-jawed. There is a moment of silence.

“Come with me,” Lafleur says, “I’ll drive until Maranouchi.”

We hop into the GT-R and take off down the alleyway. Lafleur brings it onto the 246. Down the main road, the car seems very composed. We round the first turn, but Lafleur doesn’t accelerate hard. We head through the esses, and he slams down the throttle, catching me off guard.

“Woah!” I yell as the GT-R hurdles down the straight.

Lafleur remains silent, even when he whips the GT-R through the sweeper.

We continue down the road, sideways through every corner. The G-Forces are so strong I want to throw up. Christ, it’s so bloody fast!

As we brake into the Maranouchi area, the GT-R backfires numerous times.

We finally stop and Lafleur finally starts talking, “So, James, what do you think?”

“I think I need to get a turn behind the wheel now.”

“Very well. Just don’t hit anything.”

We trade places and I rev the GT-R. It sounds like a race car. Then I floor it and we’re off again.

We slide down the narrow Sotobori Line, down towards the main Aoyamai-dori.

As we approach the Shutoko corner, I feint out and back in, missing the wall by a few inches. Lafleur looks very nervous.

We brake into the Akasaka turnaround and I realize just how much fun this car is going to be on the Aoyama.

I get squirrely through the turn, but I’m able to keep the car in check as we head down the straight. I stomp down on the pedal and the Skyline lurches forward. I clutch and shift to fourth. The power is immense. This feeling – so great. I’ve got all the power in the world. Fifth gear. It just keeps going!

I stand on the throttle through the chicane. Lafleur’s about to scream. I want to stop, but the power just won’t let me! I need this power!

The GT-R keeps driving down the straight and into sixth gear I shift. The speedometer keeps rising 265… 270… 275… 280… 286! It falls again, well before the straight ends. I begin to brake towards the corner when Lafleur yells at me.

“That’s enough, James. Just park it here.”

When the GT-R comes to a stop I turn to him and ask, “When can I have my Soarer back?”

Lafleur smiles and shakes his head, “You’re the first one to ever ask me for a tune after driving this, you know. How about 450? We’ll raise the power slowly.”

I calm down a bit, “Sure. 450 sounds okay for now.”

Lafleur smiles again, “Bring the car to me tonight and I’ll see what I can do.”

* * * * *​

After experiencing 800ps, how far will Young take the Toyota? Or will it be abandoned for something faster? Find out in the next few parts of Velocità!