madbikeboy
18th May 2009, 09:25
Fatmax is the king of implausible stories, Asian's shitting in helmets for me is the stand out.
Okay, my story...
I went to a meeting with my web guys last night, in deepest darkest Albania (you'll note the effort I'm going to take an event and add some literary colour to it). My trek into the wilds of Albania mean that I have to pass through the Nurburg-westfield-ring road. For those of you who don't know this stretch, it's a wonderful racetrack that has excellent visibility, and it has little roundabouts dotted along the ring. When it was first designed, I interviewed the guy who designed it for some Master's research I was doing on an unrelated subject - he said that he designed it for traffic flow, but he suggested that an enterprising young petrolhead might find other uses for it...
So, his advice from many years ago in mind, I tend to practise the art of lines and turn in points on his wonderful road...
All within in the speed limts of course.
So, last night, the bad weather descended on Albania, flurries of rain driving across the dark and desolate fields... I was in the Mini, Scoot had already been worked hard earlier in the day and was in the stable surrounded by pint sized Suzi's. Now, the thing about Mini's is that they generate some really good cornering force, mine has the factory supercharger style wheels with the stickiest rubber ever invented, and as such, will actually turn harder than a Porsche turbo...
In the first roundabout, I passed a very new HSV ute, bright red, two up. Didn't think much of it, until I realised that he was giving it a go. He was gassing it down the slightly curved straights, and then tip toeing through the roundabouts...
When I figured that he was actually trying to race, I slowed down, it was too wet for stupidity with a clearly piss poorly skilled cager...
So, turned left towards Mason's road, the HSV ending up catching me up as I stopped to yeild to a car coming though the top roundabout. The HSV gassed it around the right hand side of the roundabout, going the wrong way, and then with a big foot full of gusto, he slip slided up the road, arm out the window flipping me the bird...
He had a choice of going straight through, connecting up to Greville, or taking a left into Spencer Road, a winding and tight road with some blind corners... He chose the left.
It's about this time that I should mention that Spencer road is undergoing roadworks. It seems that many ill-advised people chose to race along this road, despite having zero visibility, and being narrower than a devout Christians mind... So, the roadworks are to add some really big speed humps. And on a wet night, with poor visibility, a young guy with a head full of steam and testosterone; with black unpainted speed humps...
So, HSV driver hits the first one and gets airbourne, by which I mean tires off the ground - he lands and gasses it even harder, I've slowed down to about 15 kph, watching inevitability in full play...
Dick Head hits the second speed hump at full noise, the ute jumps into the air, and I can hear the valves bouncing 100 meters away, and there is enough space under the ute to park a row of pool tables.
In my mind, the sound track is the theme song of the Dukes of Hazzard - "Just good old boys, never meaning no harm..."
The ute is hanging in the air, upward momentum gradually losing out to gravity, the front of the car lowering first. It got a heap of hang time, imagine Nitro Circus style air...
The ute lands, bottoms out, sparks flying as it grounds out everything underneath, mufflers getting mashed underneath... And I suspect the radiator took a hit too...
So, ute races off (not having learned his lesson), I'm literally sitting in Mini Me pissing myself laughing... I pulled onto East Coast road and saw him standing next to his ute, some chick literally tearing strips (and rightfully so), with steam pissing out of the radiator...
There are so many morals here, it's like an Aesop's Fable...
So, Max, did that give you a run for your money???
Okay, my story...
I went to a meeting with my web guys last night, in deepest darkest Albania (you'll note the effort I'm going to take an event and add some literary colour to it). My trek into the wilds of Albania mean that I have to pass through the Nurburg-westfield-ring road. For those of you who don't know this stretch, it's a wonderful racetrack that has excellent visibility, and it has little roundabouts dotted along the ring. When it was first designed, I interviewed the guy who designed it for some Master's research I was doing on an unrelated subject - he said that he designed it for traffic flow, but he suggested that an enterprising young petrolhead might find other uses for it...
So, his advice from many years ago in mind, I tend to practise the art of lines and turn in points on his wonderful road...
All within in the speed limts of course.
So, last night, the bad weather descended on Albania, flurries of rain driving across the dark and desolate fields... I was in the Mini, Scoot had already been worked hard earlier in the day and was in the stable surrounded by pint sized Suzi's. Now, the thing about Mini's is that they generate some really good cornering force, mine has the factory supercharger style wheels with the stickiest rubber ever invented, and as such, will actually turn harder than a Porsche turbo...
In the first roundabout, I passed a very new HSV ute, bright red, two up. Didn't think much of it, until I realised that he was giving it a go. He was gassing it down the slightly curved straights, and then tip toeing through the roundabouts...
When I figured that he was actually trying to race, I slowed down, it was too wet for stupidity with a clearly piss poorly skilled cager...
So, turned left towards Mason's road, the HSV ending up catching me up as I stopped to yeild to a car coming though the top roundabout. The HSV gassed it around the right hand side of the roundabout, going the wrong way, and then with a big foot full of gusto, he slip slided up the road, arm out the window flipping me the bird...
He had a choice of going straight through, connecting up to Greville, or taking a left into Spencer Road, a winding and tight road with some blind corners... He chose the left.
It's about this time that I should mention that Spencer road is undergoing roadworks. It seems that many ill-advised people chose to race along this road, despite having zero visibility, and being narrower than a devout Christians mind... So, the roadworks are to add some really big speed humps. And on a wet night, with poor visibility, a young guy with a head full of steam and testosterone; with black unpainted speed humps...
So, HSV driver hits the first one and gets airbourne, by which I mean tires off the ground - he lands and gasses it even harder, I've slowed down to about 15 kph, watching inevitability in full play...
Dick Head hits the second speed hump at full noise, the ute jumps into the air, and I can hear the valves bouncing 100 meters away, and there is enough space under the ute to park a row of pool tables.
In my mind, the sound track is the theme song of the Dukes of Hazzard - "Just good old boys, never meaning no harm..."
The ute is hanging in the air, upward momentum gradually losing out to gravity, the front of the car lowering first. It got a heap of hang time, imagine Nitro Circus style air...
The ute lands, bottoms out, sparks flying as it grounds out everything underneath, mufflers getting mashed underneath... And I suspect the radiator took a hit too...
So, ute races off (not having learned his lesson), I'm literally sitting in Mini Me pissing myself laughing... I pulled onto East Coast road and saw him standing next to his ute, some chick literally tearing strips (and rightfully so), with steam pissing out of the radiator...
There are so many morals here, it's like an Aesop's Fable...
So, Max, did that give you a run for your money???