Toyota Celica Supra Forum banner

1 - 13 of 13 Posts

·
Registered
Joined
·
13,096 Posts
Discussion Starter #1
If you can't tell, this is a composition entirely of fiction and took place in a video game.

Sky dark, started out a drizzle-filled quiet day. We had not seen sun in nearly a week and it affected everything, muffled by the gloom that had enveloped my little town. My guest and I were comparing setups as Supra owner do, taking one car then another down the highway, each on-ramp an opportunity to soak up the deep massage to the soul we call boost. Our little escape from the monotony of gray. Boost, blow-off, shift, boost, blow-off, shift. Bliss.

Ultimately would discuss the nuances of the different setups, inter-cooler overkill, exhaust trade-off of noise to performance, summer and all-season tires, front camber or stock. At some point in the drive, conversation stooped to every turbo-owner's weakness, boost levels. This would have been a safe topic, were we in a car not previously detuned for wet-traction reasons. This was the first step towards raw gratification with no respect for reason or safety. This was the beginning... ...of the end.

Please be careful of that first step into the dark pool of addiction, it comes up quick. Unrealized by us, we were falling under the spell of elevated boost levels, the thought of increased pressure, directly increasing the enjoyment, was too much to be avoided. Rationalizations sat heavily, the fat wool over our eyes. "The car really is tuned for 14psi." Words, hollow and thoughtless, slipped from my lips, giving the false reasoning that drove our actions. "The upgraded turbo doesn't even begin to breathe at 9lbs." Again, weak and meaningless, but enough to drown out our concerns and apprehensions. This was the moment of our complete and utter failing.

Returning to the physical, drivers changed, a few short moments spent under the hood, and then I was back in the passenger seat. Unnoticed were my hands, quivering in excitement, not unlike a junkie about to get his fix. "How much did you turn it up?" The final glimmer of reason peeking through... "I don't know... a-lot. Just... drive." ...and it was snuffed. The car started immediately, warmed, ready, 3" exhaust burbling in anticipation. Barely perceptible, the whir of the turbine as only heard through a free-flowing exhaust. It would not be long now, our weakness for the rush would be our catalyst, our undoing.

Almost unnaturally, ironic in most senses, our drive began quite controlled. Dipping into boost only occasionally, never allowing the throttle the sweet pressure it seems to desire, we cruised along, our cadence matching the drab, uneventful expanse of sky we drove under. I enjoyed the soft hum of the resonated chamber-less exhaust, the ever-present whine of the differential, the slight road-noise evident from my foot-wide summer compound tires. All of this experienced from the passenger seat; such an alien world found in my own car, different yet comfortable, though odd as if the sensations are rearranged.

For a few moments on the next on-ramp, boost was tested. 14lbs. Perfect. Just under boost cut at this temp, exactly where the car was meant to run. AFR's were checked. The 11 and 12 ratio LED's blinking furiously meant the car was holding my 11.5-11.7:1 AFR's through the entire RPM band. The concrete held the power without complaint. We were ready. What we were ready for, we did not yet know.

The noises of the car were temporarily disrupted, a short coughing rasp, overpowering our own harmonious tune. Eyes dropped to gauges, all was well with the Supra, and the noise came again. Eyes shot to the left, and through the foggy rain-striped window, were it not for the color of the car and our minds, trained to the exact outline of the supra, there would have been wonder if we were not looking into a mirror. A mid-80's Conquest with two young occupants drove along side us, necks craned, eyes searching, looking for something, looking for intent, exactly as we were. There it was, perfectly timed, served on a platter, my shot, my snort, my puff, my drink.

We don't know if it was I or my driver, but the other car saw what they were looking for, and immediately pulled away in a cloud of wispy black exhaust, telling every secret the car posessed as it did. Our driver easily matched pace in 5th, the Supra simply stretching its' legs and then slowing in behind the other car. A noisy exhaust and increased boost did not a fast car make. It was a slow building-up, a feeling of need, a response to my taste of the drug. I needed more. "We can't let it end this way." The driver offered only silent agreement. "Show them..." The clutch depressed, shifter pulled back towards 4th gear, a perfect 1:1 ratio in many ways beyond gearing. Two Japanese sports cars, top contenders in their day, two anxious drivers and passengers. The ratios were right, but the occupants of the other car simply did not understand, there was no hope. They bet when the should have folded, playing with the odds and not feeling the luck had been sucked from the air, but then again it's a mistake most make.

! The clutch was released and with it the full extent of available throttle was used. Exhaust tone changing from resonant and harmonious to a visceral roar. Turbo compressor music filling the cabin. Boost pressing with the force of a 10ft coastal wave, stripping the wide tires from the asphalt with a frightening scream that carried us immediately aside the Conquest. The tires still did not find full purchase, but still accelerated the car without complaint, 65mph, past the conquest tail hanging to the right, occupants' eyes wide with fear or amazement. 75mph, 3 car-lengths, tail back to the left, small black stripes are visible on the damp pavement behind. 85mph, 7+ car lengths the rear end straightens, blow-off, clutch in, 5th gear and we decelerate back down to the speed limit. Harmonious tune, cruising in 5th, no discussion takes place. The other car slows further staying well behind us until our off-ramp.

We paused the game and saved the replay.


--billyM
 

·
Registered
Joined
·
13,096 Posts
Discussion Starter #8
Thanks Resto'. I felt it was time someone wrote something other than "omg teh honda was like frrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaammmm and I was like woah and pulled like a car length yea." and it sort-of took off from there.

Italian, the game of life... I spun the wheel and landed on "race car driver", those little blue and pink pegs were flying everywhere.

Mark, I don't think they quite appreciated it, and I doubt they'll find the message.

--BillyM
 
1 - 13 of 13 Posts
Top