Inspired by our other novelist on the forums, I'm building a story around my next build. Hopefully nobody minds me doing this too as I enjoy a bit of creative writing every now and again. You don't have to read the story if you are not interested - that's fine.
The build will be made up primarily of two kits - the first being the Revell 2007 GT500.
It may turn outto be a misfitting disaster - but I won't know that till later.....
I'll reveal the other kit and my progress on it as the story (and build) progresses;
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Rik Biel flopped down heavily into his couch, throwing his keys and wallet onto the coffee table with a disgusted sigh. His helmet hit the arm chair on the other side of the room with a thud. Through the open door he could hear the rumble of the tow truck leaving his driveway. Probably heading off to pick up another wreck, he mused rubbing at the stubble on his face. Closing his eyes, he lamented on the past 6 hours – or was it 6 months? Almost half a year of effort – reduced to nothing but scrap metal in the space of a morning. Too much money, too many late nights and too many tubs of elbow grease – down the toilet in the blink of an eye.
He wasn’t ready to look out the window just yet.
He just couldn’t help replaying the incident over and over in his mind. It all happened so fast. No matter how much as he went over and over the events, replaying those last moments, there was nothing he could identify that he’d done wrong. Nothing he could have, or would have or even could have done differently, given the chance.
It had been the last event of the season. Ten finalists had made it through a gruelling process to this last race, and it was a very competitive field. Despite the varied models, cylinders, cubes, power ratings and methods of induction – the elimination process over the past few months had ensured that they were all relatively well matched on the track. As such, it was a tight field that screamed like a swarm around the abandoned airfield that had been converted to racing track. The track was far enough out of the way that there were no citizens to complain, and as it kept the racing off the streets, the cops turned a blind eye. Since being abandoned in the sixties, it was now private property, but owned by whom, nobody quite knew. It was far enough away that the tow truck bill was a nasty dose of salt in the wound.
Twenty five laps of the 2 mile circuit, and he’d made it through twenty one of them, leading all bar the first five, but being unable to finish the last four. Rik was a Blue Oval man through and through, though he certainly appreciated the other marques. The Ford Mustang was his preferred weapon of choice. The ‘Stang he’d campaigned during this series was a 2007 GT500 model, silver replete with twin blue striping. From the outside it looked like its regular factory cousins, but underneath the hood, this Pony was packing something special with enough modifications to leave the standard GT500KR variant nothing but a pretty picture in the rear view mirror. But that was 6 hours ago. As impressive as the list of modifications were, it didn’t really matter anymore. After the morning’s event the car would never drive again. Rik still did not feel like looking out the window yet.
He closed his eyes. The events replayed again. It was the last turn of the circuit on lap twenty one. As usual, what had become his arch nemesis this series, a late model metallic blue Corvette, was right on his tail, followed closely by the rest of the pack. The racing had been so tight and the bumper nudges so frequent that a lot of the paint had been rubbed off his rear bumper, replaced with flecks of Corvette blue. No matter. He’d weathered the storm. The driver of the ‘Vette had been determined at every opportunity to nudge the back of his ‘Stang at any moment when grip levels were at their lightest, but he’d managed to hold on and keep in control while still maintaining the lead. The highly modified ‘Vette didn’t have enough outright horsepower to catch him on the straights, but at every turn it was right behind him, prodding and probing, searching for any opportunity to bring him unstuck. Without success until the conrod connected to the fifth piston decided to make an unconventional hole in the side of the aluminium block, seizing the engine and causing a slight lock up in the rears. This was all that was needed for the slight caress to the rear from the ‘Vette to send the Mustang into a spin. A puff of tyre smoke, a couple of three sixties and then wham – straight into the barrier fencing. The front end was a crumpled mess. Then to add insult to injury, a slight clip to the rear from a back marking Mopar that basically wiped off the entire rear light assemblies and back end. With a deep bone weary sigh Rik pushed himself up and walked over to the window.
Source: http://cs.scaleautomag.com/SCACS/forums/thread/1011757.aspx
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