The first rule of Barely Street Legal is, you do not talk about Barely Street Legal. The second rule of Barely Street Legal is, if you blaze into an event at a hundred miles an hour with the flashing lights on your tail, the League is over, so please, don’t bring the fuzz with you. And the third rule of Barely Street Legal is, if you run into trouble, you’re on your own.
he assorted madmen (and madwoman) of the newly convened Barely Legal Street League stared on as Strop poured over the rules and regulations of this largely unregulated tournament. The tournament took all sorts, from old friends and partners to rivals to complete nutters, dressed in an assortment of gear from casual wear to racing suits both modern and retro, one guy was even carrying a monkey (and what’s more, it appeared to be a real, live monkey). But that was all part of the fun.
“You all know why we are here, together, on this night. We all share a vision. A vision of madness, one that defies to the maximum possible extent the rules and regulations. And with that madness, comes risk and adversity. Every one of these machines on this floor range from the dangerous to downright death traps. For those of us who do make it, this promises to be the most intense two weeks of your entire lives. But if any of us perish, let us not mourn each other, for we die in the pursuit of speed, hopefully in a great fireball of glory.”
Strop put his hands together and bowed his head solemnly for a moment, before snapping back to attention with a completely neutral expression.
“I repeat that it is your own responsibility to make your own arrangements to get to the starting line in a timely fashion. However, since we are travelling around the world, we are providing you with a GPS device that both tracks your car’s movements, and also will record your times in the time attack events. This device is linked to a network, the server of which is located in our truck. In fact, Noah is just installing it now! Aren’t you Noah?”
In the background, Noah waved his hand dismissively, and one could hear an indistinct muttering.
“This also helps us determine if anything is going wrong, should you not arrive in time for an event. Be mindful, however, we cannot delay any of these events, so if you’re not there at the arrival time, we will disconnect you from the network until such a time as you somehow find us again, if you can. However, being the hosts, if we should, for any reason, need to change plans ourselves, we will inform you via email with no penalty to yourselves.”
Strop looked at the crowd once more. “Are there any questions? Yes, you?” he pointed at the lone raised hand, belonging to a grizzled, and Strop suspected, significantly inebriated man.
“What if we already have outstanding warrants in the country we’re visiting?”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Strop replied. “Whatever mess you make, just keep that shit away from the league.”
No further questions were forthcoming, so Strop clapped his hands.
“You now have twenty three hours and forty minutes to arrive in the vicinity of the Pit Straight, whereupon at midnight sharp, we will perform a head check and clear the track. And before I forget, there will be one set of flashing lights, so don’t freak out if you see a cop car at the corner of Pit Straight and Mountain Straight.”
At this there were a few confused murmurs, not surprisingly, given the earlier spiel.
“It’ll all make sense when you get there. Anyway, some hints for you: first, this is Australia. The outback gets pretty warm during the day and most of us don’t have any air-con. Get my drift? Find cover before noon and don’t come out before five if you don’t want to bake. Second, it’s seven hundred and fifty kays to Bathurst, so pace yourself. Third, I know for a fact most of these engines drink by the gallon. Out in the country, there are hardly any petrol stations and most of them don’t open before nine in the morning if at all, so choose your route wisely.
“Okay, that’s it. Good luck, and Godspeed.”
______________________________________________
As the cars started rumbling out of the warehouse and burbling up the road, Strop spotted it. Sticking out like a sore thumb, the long ramrod straight finned silhouette of the ’62 Cadillac, dwarfing all but the equally ridiculous of ridiculous sedans so long it might as well have been a stretch limo. He remembered the car well, still resplendent in all its green glory. Hulk glory.
“She’s a beauty innit?” A meaty, callused hand wrapped around his shoulder and squeezed all the shock out of him. Strop slowly rose, slowly because of the weight of the hand, rose because it seemed to be pulling him up, until he was staring at the toothy visage of the stockiest, sturdiest croc he had ever seen this side of Queensland, “Er, hi, um…”
“Reece. Reece Parsons, but call me The Jaws.” Reece opened his gargantuan mouth wide, baring rows of razors, before snapping it shut. “Youse guys built this for me, and it’s beaut.”
“Well thanks,” Strop said, trying to massage some life back into his shoulder. “Interesting taste you have though, I thought up in Cairns like most elsewhere, it was all Holden versus Ford. And utes.”
Reece laughed, a deep belly laugh that resonated from his swarthy gut. “Yeah I know mate, but sometimes a guy just wants something a bit unique, of his own, y’know? Something with a bit more oomph, a statement.”
“I’ll say,” Strop murmured. “You taken this anywhere yet?”
Reece shook his head. “I might head to Summernats next year, give people a real shock with a proper four wheel burnout. But right now, I just wanna drive, see how this thing handles a road, going all out.”
Strop boggled a bit, remembering that one test drive he and Kai took the day the Hulk had been completed. The angry Hulk smashing car that spun them right round, several times in fact. “Mate, are you for real?”
“For real?” Reece’s eyes flashed dangerously and he gripped Strop’s arms so hard Strop’s bones started creaking. “Since when has The Jaws not been for real? If I wanna do something, I’m gonna do it and nobody can stop me. That’s the Reece way! When I saw your tournament come up, I knew I absolutely had to do it, broaden my horizons, expand my experiences, see more of the world you know. Because it’s a big world out there for the taking and nobody’s gonna keep it from me, you hear? Nobody!”
It was at this point that, in the dim warehouse lighting, Strop finally realised that Reece’s eyes were bloodshot and he was trembling somewhat fierce, and that he was probably way high on uppers. “Alright man, alright, just… just think twice before you turn off the traction control okay?”
Thankfully, Reece calmed down and so too did the vices on his arms. “Yeah… yeah okay. Onya mate!” and with that, he squeezed his bulk back into the Caddy, and a moment later, it too lurched out of the warehouse driveway.
_______________________________________________________________
Quarter to twelve, and all was quiet.
The Gryphon Gear truck was strategically parked at one end of Pit Straight. Inside, Hannah and Tesla waited, watching as the cars pulled onto the road, as subtly as the most unsubtle cars in the world could manage. One look from a casual bystander and it would have been immediately obvious what was about to happen.
In the Peapod, Strop lurched his way to the second row of the grid, behind Reece’s Hulk, and what had definitely had to be the fastest estate wagon in the world, and directly next to Kai’s Ascension Mephisto. He felt rather out of place, almost the only front-wheel-drive car in the first half of the grid (seeded twelfth, however, was what had to be the scariest estate wagon in the world, for it too was front-wheel-drive). Reassuringly, as planned, at the end of the straight was the flashing lights of the police car. Or more accurately, the Holden Commodore they had hired, then plastered HIGHWAY PATROL stickers all over the side, and mounted lights on the top. And prepared a police officer for completeness, looking all authoritative standing next to the car.
“Remind me again, why do I have to dress as the cop?” Noah’s voice crackled over the CB radio the Gryphon Gear crew had taken along.
“You know you love it,” Strop instantly shot back.
“If I recall correctly, impersonating a police officer carries a fine and a jail term.”
“Don’t worry,” Strop grinned. “We’ll cover the fine.”
“It’s the jail term I’m worried about. I vote we make Strop the fall guy, he looks near enough to me in this light.”
“As if I’d fit in your scrawny-ass clothes!” Strop protested.
“Really, Strop?” Noah sighed. “Not only are you sexist and species-ist, but you’re size-ist too?”
The CB radio crackled as everybody else holding one, that was to say, Hannah, Tesla, Kai, and hired driver and best-worst former colleague enemy-friend of Kai, Sam Neil, all enthusiastically voiced their disgust at Strop’s bigotry. The size joke Strop had lined up suddenly fizzled and died, and he sulked over the steering wheel.
“Fine. But watch yourself, I just might forget to brake at the end of the straight.”
“Play nice, Strop,” Hannah warned him. “Noah, I think we’re all formed up now, so it’s all you!”
“Right-o.” Noah dug around the boot of the Commodore and fished out a pair of flashing rods normally used for traffic control (or maybe really awesome rave parties). Channeling the starting line girls of just about every illegal street racing film ever, he put an extra sashay in his step, causing several drivers to stall their cars in the ensuing sexual confusion. At the start line, Noah stood, arms poised high, and two dozen cars revved an eager chorus of burbling and buzzing.
“Hey Kai, wanna play forfeits?” Sam radioed coyly.
“As if I’d lose to you… what’s the forfeit?” Kai responded, just as coyly, just as Noah swung his arms down and the chorus turned into a cacophony of shrieking tyres and roaring engines.
“WINNER GETS TO DECIDE READYSETGO!” Sam whooped as the cars shot forward into chaos, and the first race of the Barely Street Legal League was underway!
Mon Nov 10, 2014 3:50 am 
Yeah about the sponsor decals... Mister Greasepaws the monkey assures me they're legit, but I dunno... I saw him searching for "yokohama logo" in google image search...
