Wed Nov 12, 2014 2:54 am by strop
Strop never drank coffee, and for good reason (what reasons they were exactly he didn’t really want to recall, hence their goodness). But right now, in the absence of sleep, that was starting to sound closer and closer to a good idea. On just the first leg of this crazy trip he had the good fortune to cook up, he had just endured eight hours of driving in the dark (and nearly running out of petrol three times on the unlit remote highways of Australia), then a fitful sleep, and one very short, very hard (and very illegal) race, plus four nerve wracking hours of trying to shake the Highway Patrol on the road to Sydney, all in the confines of the cramped seat of the cramped cabin of his stripped out Civic, the formerly beloved Peapod. At the time, it was all a huge rush and exhilarating and all that, but now that the car had been stored in freight, his tickets were secured and he somehow managed to shuffle through customs, there was a hollowness carved by exhaustion. And, to put it crudely, his butt hurt. He could only imagine how the other two, three dozen people involved in the league must be feeling. He could see a few of them, milling about the lounge, naturally, given there were only so many flights heading to Tokyo direct in a single day, and when their eyes met, they would give each other a single nod, a secret acknowledgement of their common bond.
Seated in the comparatively luxurious boarding lounge of the International terminal of Kingsford Smith Airport, the Gryphon Gear crew waited, occasionally glancing at the clock. Hannah and Tesla sat on one end of the row, talking about what sounded like whether Tesla should airbrush a starry night on the ceiling of her bedroom in addition to the mural in her living room, only Hannah thought it was kind of cliché and maybe she should go for an underwater effect instead. Strop, meahwhile, had strategically placed himself between Sam and Kai, because Sam looked to be gloating, and Kai looked to be a little bit unamused. But all that had achieved was Strop having a front row seat to Sam’s overbearing smugness as he almost bounced on his seat with a barely contained satisfaction.
“And THAT’S how you pull an overtaking move, did you see it?”
Kai rolled his eyes. “How could I not, you pretty much shoved me off the track.”
“As it should be!” Sam slapped his thigh triumphantly. “That’s what it’s like in V8 Supercars. Real touring racing, in case you forgot!”
“It’s called unsportsmanlike conduct and nearly damaging my car, which, unlike the car you’re throwing around, happens to be my own.” Kai remarked dryly. Sam chuckled.
“You’re just grumpy because I beat you.”
Strop looked at the clock again for the umpteenth time. Nine in the morning, and a whole another hour until boarding. On the plus side, that would hopefully be enough time for Noah, who had mysteriously vanished, to-
“HEY, ASSHOLES!”
Everybody (including far more than just the GG crew), bolted upright and turned to stare at the source of the exclamation. There stood a tall, lanky, and rather pissed off wolf dressed in skinny trousers with the cuffs rolled up and a belt that seemed to be hanging more out of the loops than in, a tank top loose to the point of billowing, all covered by a cardigan, and, strangely, a scarf and beret. Plus a whole lot more that appeared to be stuffed into a canvas carry-on bag. Definitely Noah.
“Nice of you to join us Noah,” Hannah smirked. “Did you get lost in an op shop?” Tesla added. Strop was about to add that while this was an international trip, there was no need to dress hipster for ALL the countries at once, when Noah’s lips curled and he let out a throaty growl, so he thought the better of it.
“Do you have ANY idea just how much trouble it is to shake the cops when you’re driving a car that LOOKS like a cop car except IT’S NOT?” His arms started flapping wildly as he recounted his tale of woe: “I had to pretend that I was too busy taking off in pursuit, only all the cars here are like ten times as fast as a shitty hire car and I had to be careful not to bin it, else that would have caused all kinds of problems with returning it wouldn’t it now? And then before dawn, I had to find a place where I could wash the stickers off without anybody noticing! And then the hire car place only opens at eight in the morning and by the time I fill out the paperwork and try to explain why there’s oil splatter all over the engine bay, it’s fucking peak hour and I have to cross the Sydney CBD because I don’t have an eTag, and who thought of that plan anyway? And do you know how hard it was to play a police officer and how much trouble I could have gotten into? And hey, stop that!”
He paused to glare at Tesla, who was doubled over laughing. Between gasps, she managed to get out, “But you look so good in uniform!”
Noah’s litany lost momentum as he looked momentarily confused. “Flattery isn’t going to help, you know, and hey, what are you doing with my camera!” He pointed at the camera Tesla had produced, and she waggled it salaciously.
“Don’t you want to see what you looked like? I got your performance on video.”
Noah planted his hands on his hips. “Give that back.”
Tesla waggled the camera again. “YouTuuuuuuuuuube.”
“NO.” Noah lunged for the camera, but Tesla rolled out of the way, over Hannah, and started running around the aisle of seats. “YouTuuuuuuuuube!”
Increasingly conscious of the stares they were now attracting, Noah quickly gave up, instead directing his ire at the other guys, who were by now also doubled over laughing. “Stop that!”
Kai stopped laughing long enough to look Noah directly in the eye. “So sorry, not sorry,” he said. Then he resumed laughing.
“I hate you all!” Noah stormed off to another aisle, plonked himself in the seat and sulked.
Strop sighed, feeling the tension seep from his shoulders after that bout of laughter. Noah had an entire ten hour flight to get over it. After all, he had to, because whether he liked it or not, he was going to be reprising his role as fake cop quite a few times in the next two weeks.*
Yes, it was going to be a good trip.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Staggering out the front entrance of Tokyo Narita International and into the bracing Autumn air, the travellers of the Barely Street Legal League meandered their way to the freight pickup, where their cars were waiting. In the distance, the swathes of forever neon lights that were the night life of Tokyo beckoned.
Strop realised his strategic error the moment he arrived at the dock. For one, he could tell which car was his, because he couldn’t see it, being covered by a swarm of neon vests of Japanese airport workers. Figures, since he was driving… a Japanese car. An iconic 9th generation of Japanese car from an iconic Japanese company, which had been stripped out and a super wide bodykit screwed on in homage to Liberty Walk, and the Formula One style wing clipped on the front and… yeah no wonder it was getting so much attention.
“Excuse me, coming through!” he did his best to shove through the crowd, who, thankfully, once they realised he was there, parted to let him through, only to swallow him up and pepper him with questions in rapid fire Japanese, none of which he understood. And he was really tired and flying was not his thing, and all he wanted to do was get the next bit of driving done and he could sleep for the next half a day or so. Just two hundred kilometres to Gunma prefecture. He racked his brains for a solution, and in the moment of his need, providence provided. For just crossing his view interrupted by many waving hands, was Enry’s Archernar. Enry, of Seishido motors.
“OHHHHHHH!” he shouted dramatically, pointing at the Archernar. “SEISHIDO!” And with that, the crowd picked up and latched onto the Archernar, and with it, poor Enry.
“Nice moves,” Hannah remarked, driving past in her much less remarkable (but still equally out of place) truck.
“Thanks,” Strop said, strapping himself into Peapod and gunning the engine, eager to get away and suddenly desiring nothing more than to check into a hot springs resort and soak in an onsen for several hours. “I’ll see you in Gunma.”
* because nobody else seems to know that Seishido have pitched in to run interference just yet, but they'll surely find out in good time.
OK. I was beaten by a grannymobile.
. But I didn't imagine at any moment I could beat all of GGs cars on their home turf!
