Its kinda Intial D'd out but hell...here it is:

Chapter 1
The White Integra Type R thundered downhill at 110 mph, effortlessly slipping in and out of corners with its engine roaring as loud as thunder and its tires screaming as if hell was opening up and they were desperate to be the first ones out of the gate. It left in its wake peels of black that the next day would be driven over by people who had not the slightest notion that they were treading where, no more than 12 hours past, a DC2R had tamed the road with a ferocity rarely seen on the open blacktop.
The Integra knew what was next: the 180 degree hairpin that had made this sleepy neighborhood its target. It had never come this far before tonight, but on this night, it would leave a trail of smoke and spent gasoline behind it as it conquered the object of its obsession.
The drivers' eyes narrowed, and in the next instant his body moved in a symphony of synchronized pulls, snaps, and stomps. His left foot almost drove the clutch pedal through the floor, and his right foot did the same with the brake pedal. His right hand slammed the car down to second with a force unheard of in this world while his left hand literally yanked the steering wheel to the left as far as it would pull. The instant his hand was free of the shift ****, it pulled the emergency brake skyward. The car went sideways instantly, and at that very moment it seemed as if the entire world was being ripped apart for the coming of Apocalypse, and if such a thing happened, the DC2 seemed all too ready to leave the four horsemen far behind.
It roared out of the turn at 50 mph and came to a screeching halt some 200 yards down the street. Engine off and flashers blinking, the driver stepped out of the car. He needed a cigarette.

Chapter 2
The driver of the Green BMW that had been stopped at the intersection no more than 100 feet away from the white ITRs' hairpin drift pulled his flashers, picked up his cell phone, and started dialing. After three rings, there was an answer.
”Hello?” Brett sounded both groggy and confused.
”Dude, was that you?!"
“Heath, what are you talking about? It's 2 in the morning. I'm in bed. And why do you sound so excited?”
”I just saw an Integra just like yours drift the hairpin in my neighborhood.”
Brett sat up in bed, suddenly wide awake. “Was it an R?”
”Definitely.”
“What did it do, pull the hand brake?”
“He had to've. His tires were smoking pretty fierce; man, but he had the drift under control the whole time.”
“Impossible. You and I both know there's not a single guy in Macon that can control a car using the hand brake, myself included.”
”I know man, but I saw what I saw, and believe me, I'm as shocked as you. I was sure there wasn't a white Integra R in Macon other than yours.”
”There isn't.”
”There is now."
Brett was uncharacteristically silent, until Heath spoke again.
“Well, damn man, I gotta get going. I just had to tell you.”
”Yeah man, thanks. See you at work.”
"Later."
"Later."
Brett shook his head. Still speechless, He lay back down on his bed, closed his eyes, and waited for a sleep that would not come.
Just when Brett thought that sleep was finally upon him, a word exploded into his mind with a suddenness that was scary: GARAGE! Brett was again wide awake and up in a flash. He flew out the front door, and did not stop to think about things until he was standing in front of the closed garage door. What if the R ISN'T there? Then what?
"Only one way to find out," He muttered to himself in the dark. With a motion that was somehow both quick and reluctant all at once, Brett pulled up the garage door. And there the R sat. Another thought hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt the hood. Cold.

Chapter 3
The driver of the white ITR slowly dragged his cigarette and thought to himself, as he did quite often. He was a thinker, and he often analyzed things down to every last minute detail, weighing pros and cons, predicting outcomes and reactions, and correcting miscalculations even as he made them. His intellect had always been his biggest asset.
So why then, he asked himself, had he been so stupid? He had entered the corner much too early. There had been a good six inches of road between him and the curb. Such a margin was unacceptable. Tonight was the first night he had braved the hairpin he'd found two weeks ago, and he thought he had been ready. Obviously not. The real trick to taking the corner was cutting the wheel, pulling the handbrake, and then downshifting, in that order. The immense over steer needed to drift the corner actually wasn't needed until the middle of the turn. He realized that in this fashion he could probably floor the gas just after pulling the handbrake, and he kicked himself for his freshman efforts. Heath told everybody that it was breathtaking.

Chapter 4
Brett worked in Warner Robins, where lived a very good friend of his. This friend wasn't a very good racer and a barely adequate mechanic, but his knowledge of cars and their abilities was quite vast. He was not a reader of many books and actually claimed to hate reading, but he was rarely seen without his nose buried in a Super Street, which he tended to read with a slowness that was noticeably not associated with an inability to read, but rather with thoroughness.
Today seemed to be one of those rare occasions when a Super Street was not within arm's length of him. When Brett pulled up, Tim was underneath his car, changing his oil.
"What's up, Gaywad?" Brett said to open up conversation.
"You're a ***," Tim said flatly.
"Hope you're finally fixing your third gear."
"Shut up. Changing my oil."
"I gathered."
"I'll kill you." This was Tim's usual way of getting the last word, but for Brett, The conversation had not even begun.
"There is a reason I came out here, you know."
"Hmph. I gathered." Tim got up, wiped his hands on his pants, and lit a Newport, which he was just as famous for as his obsessive Super Street reading.
Brett told Tim everything Heath had told him, word for word. Tim only stood there, smoking his cigarette and staring off into a different world. He waited until Brett was finished and then bluntly stated what he thought to be the obvious.
"That's retarded. Front-wheel-drive cars were never meant to drift. He could have taken the turn twice as fast if he'd have driven regularly. Drifting is fun to watch, but that's all it is. If this guy thinks power sliding is the best way to take a turn, then I could beat him."
"Tim, you suck at racing."
"Could be. But I took that into account when I said I could beat him...Even with my third gear as it is."
"You mean non-existent?"
"I'll kill you." And this time, Tim's go-to remark did end the conversation.

Chapter 5
At the same moment that Tim prophesied his victory over the white ITR, a silver blur streaked down River North Boulevard at sixty-five miles per hour. Any spectator lucky enough to witness the blur was treated to an all-out sensory feast for the eyes and ears: The smell of burning rubber, the occasional fireball blasting forth from the tailpipe, and if looked at closely enough, the legendary emblem that signified complete and total perfection. And the emblem said GT-R.
Tripper Cook was a driving machine. He had spent most of his life absorbed by a love of automobiles. His shift points were flawless. His corner entry speed was impeccable. His line was perfect. In short, his abilities were breathtaking. However, Tripper usually didn't drive his R33 this hard. But today was different. He had been restless and jittery all day, and all he could think about was driving his car. Hs blood had been pumping inexplicably fast at the office, and there had been an air of anxious anticipation about him all day. He hadn't felt this way since he quit smoking. He didn't know what was up, but he sensed something happening, all right; something big. As Tripper expended his last fireball and turned into his driveway, he saw his son, Tommy, washing his car. Tripper pulled into the garage, and before he turned off the ignition, he felt an urge, and obeyed it. He revved the engine…to redline.

Chapter 6
“The Prodigal Son”
Everybody said that Tommy Cook (aka TC) was just like his father. Constantly filled with unwavering vitality and spirit, but also the owner of a deeper much more serious side and a relentless determination to accomplish his goals. Friend to many, enemy to few, Tommy was hard to dislike. Tommy loved his car like a mother loves her child, and he spent much of his day in or around it. Washing his car was quite routine, and it was truly no wonder that when the Skyline pulled up, its reflection glinted in the freshly-buffed paint of Tommy's gorgeous Miata. When his father stepped out of the car, Tommy was quick to ask the obvious question.
"What's up with you, pops? Never heard you rev it that high before."
"Wish I could tell you TC, but today, I dunno, I just...felt like it. Got any news for me?"
"Nothing big. Devin called earlier just to tell me about some new Integra in town. Told me Brett said this guy's a drifter." Trippers' heart skipped a beat, and realization struck him hard. He instantly, inexplicably understood that this was the piece of news that he had been waiting for all day. At that moment, a green Stratus crested the hill in front of the Cook residence, slowed to a stop, and parked in the grass.

Chapter 7
Devin Randall loved information. He was hardly a gossip, but whenever he could get his mind wrapped around new information, he turned it over and over in his mind until he could get a new perspective on it, a newer, better outlook.
Today, Brett had told him about the white ITR, and ever since, he had been going through his old routine, analyzing the idea of a drifter in Macon, not to mention that this guy drifted front-wheel-drives, a technique Devin had been attempting for months with little (if any) success. Watching the white ITR in action held an even greater interest for Devin than most other people, because Devin thought that by watching the ITRs technique, he could learn quite a bit.
When he stepped out of his car at the residence of Tripper Cook, he was still steadily thinking about the white Integra with its seemingly impossible skills. Apparently, Devin learned, it was on everybody else’s mind as well.
"D Man! How's it going dude?!" This was Trippers' usual way of greeting Devin when he made an appearance at the Cook household.
"It's going okay, I guess. I'm guessing Tommy's already told you that we have a drifter in our midst, right?"
"It was the first thing he said to me when I got here, actually. But he doesn't seem to think it's a big deal." Tommy chimed in with an instant opinion,
"That's because it's really not. Drifting is a hell of a lot of fun, I'm sure, and it's a great show, but the guy can't be running for time if he's drifting. And if he is, then he might be surprised to find that he'd be very far behind at the end of a race with me."
"Wow TC...never heard you actually make a comment about racing someone before," Tripper said. Devin didn't know if this was just a casual comment or Trippers' way of calling out his son, but either way, he knew that Tommy would have something to say about it. And he was right; Tommy did.
"I'll be the first to admit that I'm not exactly a racer. I mean, I'm a good driver, but I don't race often. The thing is, though, I think it'd be interesting to race against a drifter. I'm absolutely sure that grip racing is faster, and I'd like to prove it to people like Devin." All this was said with a genuinely good-natured smile.
"Ha. When drifting is done correctly, it is by far the fastest line. How many times do we have to go over this?"
"Racing isn't exactly what initial D makes it out to be, dude. Nobody can really drift like the trueno; it's impossible."
"Don't be so sure. From what I've heard, this guy flows. Apparently he lost very little speed taking the hairpin he drifted. So it may be possible."
"I'll believe it when I see it, and laugh as I pass it."
"Hmph. Well, if you want to race him, you may have to go through Tim first."
Tripper and Tommy both raised an eyebrow.
"Yep, Tim actually wants to race this guy. From what Brett said, he pretty much has the same opinions on the subject as you. As far as I know, Brett and heath were going to hang out in Heath's neighborhood tonight and wait for the Integra to show up. They're gonna flag him down and when he stops, they're going to issues Tim's challenge, simple as that." There was silence for a moment, and Tommy was clearly in thought. Tripper was looking at his son, or more accurately, looking into his son, trying to figure out what he was thinking. And then Tommy said it out loud, said what Tripper had since the beginning knew what he would say.
"Well then I'll race Tim. Whoever wins races the Integra."

Chapter 8
Through the magic of the modern convenience known as the cell phone, Brett knew about Tommy's challenge to Tim only a couple of minutes after he had issued it.
"Tommy said what? That doesn't sound like Tommy at all."
"I know, but hey, with the way Tim's acting, it looks like this guy's instilled the racing bug in everybody. Personally, I think Tommy racing Tim is a great idea. It would kind of build things up to the real race."
"Don't act like this guy's already accepted the challenge. He doesn't even know we exist, remember."
"Something tells me he won't have a problem with it. I'm not saying I know the guy, but things certainly seem to be picking up around here. It just seems like accepting the challenge would just be the natural progression of things. And I'm sure Tim will jump at the opportunity to race Tommy."
"Me too. It seems like something like that has been a long time coming."
"You and Heath still trying to meet the guy tonight?"
"That's the plan. I'll let you know how it goes, if it goes."
"Call me as soon as you know something."
"Will do. Bye."
"Bye." As Devin hung up, a cold realization struck him. Tonight was not the night. Everything would go through in the end, but tonight was not the night.

Chapter 9
Six hours later Brett and Heath sat in the middle of the 300 meter straightaway in Heath's neighborhood, and did exactly what they came to do. They waited.
Heath leaned against Brett's car and smoked while Brett simply looked bored. However, underneath it all, Brett was more excited than he had been in a very long while. He had been growing tired of the car culture for some time, and was quite close to giving everything up, selling his car, and forgetting everything he knew about engine management when he heard about the incredible technique of whoever captained the helm of the white Integra Type R. The thought of meeting him had Brett about to burst at the seams.
Heath felt much the same way. Heath had a thirst for knowledge which was most present in his passion for cars, and meeting this mysterious new driver and issuing the challenge at hand was the most exciting thing he'd faced since taking an interest in automobiles.
"I just realized that we're both assuming he'll be showing up," Brett said.
"Isn't that the best thing to do in the situation? How else are we gonna get in touch with him?"
"I'm just saying, what if he only ran through this neighborhood one time and you happened to catch him..."
The unmistakable roar of an aftermarket exhaust thundered in the distance.
"I'd know that sound anywhere," Brett exclaimed. "That is most definitely a DC2."

Chapter 10
The driver soared through the sleepy suburban neighborhood in much the same way as it had on previous nights, but for some reason, he sensed a queer anticipation that was almost completely like Tripper Cook's earlier that day. He now knew that something was definitely up, but he had no idea what. Either way, he decided not to let it take away from his skill. He skidded and slid through the turns with amazing speed and even more astonishing grace, as if he had been born to do just so.
Coming out of the long 90 degree corner and onto the 300 meter straight, the driver instantly saw them. Two young men leaning up against a white Integra exactly like his. He had no doubts about why they were here. Plain and simple, he had been found out. In a thought process that was half logical thought and half self-flattery, the driver knew that these two guys could only be here to challenge him.
When Brett and Heath saw the DC2, they threw up their arms and tried their best to flag him down. Actually seeing the car was amazing for Brett. A perfect mirror-image of his own machine, spotting the Integra proved to Brett that it really existed. He had always thought that seeing was believing, and despite all of his prior doubts, he was now forced to believe.
Perhaps the most disappointing thing Heath had ever had to go through was what happened next. The white DC2, which could absolutely, positively see Brett, Heath, and Brett's car, drove directly past them and into the distance.
The driver of the white ITR wished, very much so, to be challenged. However, he also knew from experience that when the time came, then he would know when to accept the challenge. For now, however, he had decided to make them wait. When the time came, he wanted to be in total control of the situation, and for that to come true, tonight could not be the night.
Just as had been predicted, tonight was not the night.

Chapter 11
“The Chase Begins!”
For an instant, the bitter disappointment was written on Brett's face as badly as words on the page before you. But when that moment passed, the disparaging look was replaced by another, completely unmistakable look: Hunger. With a predator's eyes gleaming in the moonlight, Brett turned and rushed to the driver's side of his Integra.
"Whoa, whoa there, what are you doing?" Heath sounded panicked.
"What do you think?" Brett didn't sound like himself at all. "We're gonna go catch him."
"Are you out of your - "
”Shut up. Every second we stand here talking he gets farther away!" Heath realized he had no choice. He ran to the passenger side, got in, and decided it would be best to buckle up.
Brett stomped the gas, dropped the Integra into first, and his tires screamed their furious cry of war as Brett and Heath blasted off, hot on the trail of the mysterious driver.

Chapter 12
“Miscalculation”

Note: In this chapter I will introduce the concept of the background song. I'll be doing this for all the races, because I think it lends to the personality of a race and helps one visualize said race a little easier. I'm pretty sure one could find pretty much any of these songs on Kazaa (I don't think I can legally "suggest" downloading any of these songs, so I'll just leave the choice up to you). Anyway, enjoy the story!

Race #1
Brett vs. The White ITR
Background song: Time to Burn
Artist: Unknown

"Dude, you're already going way too fast!"
"I can handle it, just shut up so I can concentrate!"
The adrenaline rush Brett was feeling was otherworldly, as his tires smoked and squealed through corner after corner, he could visualize himself staring into the taillights of the identical DC2. Brett pounded into the clutch, and with a flick of the wrist and stomp of the gas pedal, he was around another corner.
"We've got to be getting closer to the Sonofabitch," Brett muttered, and if he had looked at Heath, he would have seen a young man so pale with fear that he was almost transparent. However, Brett had completely forgotten about Heath's presence. As Brett pulled wide out of a 90 - degree corner, he saw his prey: Taillights. Not a quarter of a mile away was the now - mythical white Integra type R, screeching through a small S - curve in all it's glory. Brett yelled triumphantly inside his mind.
"I've already caught up to him! This guy isn't ****!" The speedometer on Brett's car read 80 mph, but Brett took no notice, and if he had, he wouldn't have cared. He was on a totally different plane. Brett hit the S - curve hard and went through it like greased lightning; all the while accelerating at full capacity, the Integra's taillights in his sights the whole time.
"I'm gaining!" Brett shouted. "This is it!" Brett gained major ground on the downhill straightaway, and looked down just in time to see his speedometer peak at 100 mph. The blood was rushing through his veins like a river on fire, and nothing in the world could stop him, not even Heath, who was screaming at the top of his lungs, or the road signs, which read, plain as day, DANGEROUS CURVES AHEAD.
"Dude, Slow the screw down!!!" Heath was as scared as he could have ever hoped to be.
The driver of the white ITR chuckled to himself,
"Time to give those clowns a show." Brett was not ready for the hairpin in anyway, as catching up to the other car had distracted him fully. The car in front of him started its drift and moved to the inside of the hairpin, and Brett was left starring at the curb, and beyond it, dense woods.
"****!!!" Brett slammed on brakes and cut the wheel, and, in a miraculous save, had the presence of mind to yank the hand brake upward. Brett's car spun sharply and bounced up over the curb with a hard slam and the terrible sound of eight wheels screaming and his undercarriage being torn to shreds by elevated concrete. He spun out and dropped back into the road, skidding to a stop, a scant ten meters and 2 seconds later. When he looked up, his opposition was gone.
"Ahhh DAMMIT! Nobody drives my car better than me! I re-*******-peat, NOBODY!!!" Brett hit the clutch and turned the key, determined to make another pass at it, but laid his head on the steering wheel in defeat when he found it wouldn't start.


Modified by 98cwitr at 11:45 AM 7/17/2004


Modified by 98cwitr at 6:38 PM 7/17/2004

 

Cliff Notes? (no offense)

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by Dave-ROR &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">Cliff Notes? (no offense)</TD></TR></TABLE>

 

its "peel" not "peal".......btw sorry dude but the whole idea of writing a book about a type r is sooo gay

 

cliff notes ---&gt; http://www.midgatuners.com/saga/index.htm

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by 98cwitr &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">He was not a reader of many books and actually claimed to hate reading, but he was rarely seen without his nose buried in a Super Street, which he tended to read with a slowness that was noticeably not associated with an inability to read, but rather with thoroughness.
</TD></TR></TABLE>

Reading Super Street with thoroughness? Why?

 

wtf....thoroughness ..... come on admit it....that bastard is illiterate

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by Bbasso &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">

</TD></TR></TABLE>

 

F&F #23?

 

just throw in Brian Spilner in a few times and you've got a winner

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by Utilitarian &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">

Reading Super Street with thoroughness? Why?

</TD></TR></TABLE>

b/c our friend Tim is a complete moron ricer that thinks he knows everything about cars

 

damn i read the whole thing.

the only thing gayer that a story about itr's is a story about itr's drifting

 

Sorry but Super Street is no talent editors who talk in slang to be cooooolllll dawg.

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by 98cwitr &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">

b/c our friend Tim is a complete moron ricer that thinks he knows everything about cars </TD></TR></TABLE>

The point I was getting at, facetiously, is that Super Street is ****. I know; I had a subscription for a whole year for $9.

Is the "my friend wrote this" thing insurance in the case that people around these parts don't take kindly to drifting (spoken in a cowboy accent)? Especially in a FF car?

 

thanks for the critisms..ill pass them along
I think the story is pretty funny...esp. since devin pin pointed everyone's personalities (with slight literary exaggeration) and that i personally am friends with everyone in it. just wanted to see what other's thought of it

 

i dont like reading comics or manga, anime etc does your friend plan on a cartoon series? haha

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by 98cwitr &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">The White Integra Type R thundered downhill at 110 mph, stealthily slipping in and out of corners with its engine roaring as loud as thunder and its tires screaming as if hell was opening up and they were desperate to be the first ones out of the gate. </TD></TR></TABLE>

It lost me right about here. How can one be stealthy with the engine roaring and the tires screaming like some emancipated demon?

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by Dc2 Powered &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">i dont like reading comics or manga, anime etc does your friend plan on a cartoon series? haha </TD></TR></TABLE>

actually he's planning on some anime drawings to put into the publishing

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by Dogginator &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote"> lost me right about here. How can one be stealthy with the engine roaring and the tires screaming like some emancipated demon? </TD></TR></TABLE>

if you watched intial d you would understand its like when the engine is roaring and the tires are screaming yet the driver hears nothing of that...its like being in the 'zone'. Thats how i took it anyways

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by SavageNation &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">Sorry but Super Street is no talent editors who talk in slang to be cooooolllll dawg.</TD></TR></TABLE>

That's the truth. The only funny/ entertaining thing I read was the seam of the mag when it read: "It smells like Otto's jacket in here" and "Man who go through turnstyle sideways going to bangkok"

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by 98cwitr &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">
if you watched intial d you would understand its like when the engine is roaring and the tires are screaming yet the driver hears nothing of that...its like being in the 'zone'. Thats how i took it anyways</TD></TR></TABLE>

Actually, I both read and watched it. The drivers in Initial D heard much of that, they were just calmly interpreting it. Initial D had alot of introduction explaining Takumi's indifference when driving on Mt. Akina. I just didn't sense that here. The first sentence simply seemed contradictory. Sorry.

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by Dogginator &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">

Actually, I both read and watched it. The drivers in Initial D heard much of that, they were just calmly interpreting it. Initial D had alot of introduction explaining Takumi's indifference when driving on Mt. Akina. I just didn't sense that here. The first sentence simply seemed contradictory. Sorry.</TD></TR></TABLE>

maybe i should be his editor and change stealthy to effortlessly?

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by zygspeed &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">F&F #23? </TD></TR></TABLE>HAHA

 

Dont quit your dayjob.

 

<TABLE WIDTH="90%" CELLSPACING=0 CELLPADDING=0 ALIGN=CENTER><TR><TD>Quote, originally posted by KOALA YUMMIES &raquo;</TD></TR><TR><TD CLASS="quote">Dont quit your dayjob.</TD></TR></TABLE>

sad thing is...he doesnt have one