TIFU because Red is 3x Faster
About a year ago, in an area roughly an hour away... Now that I've set the premise similarly to some kind of galactic epic, buckle in, because I want to be really elaborate.
TL;DR I smashed up my 2015 car, because I thought I was Char Aznable.
Let's bring it back a few months before the event at hand. Now, back then, I had a pretty sensible car. It was a fairly new 2014 model. I did not want to treat it like I treated my '98 lineup of cars that I have been driving for 8 years (Drive 'til they die. Maintenance? What's that?). Brought it into my dealership (I know, I'm a naive fool), and just decided to mill about the car lot while waiting.
A handsome looking salesman approaches me. Now, I'm used to this. I usually tell them I just bought a car, and it's in their bay; they just waltz off after that. This one however, watches me. He can see I'm looking very intently at a certain car. Suddenly, the car unlocks, and he gives me the key. Looking back, all I can think is, "You sly son of a bitch."
"It's okay, I can't drive a manual car..." I manage to stammer. "Oh, I'll teach you," he says, as my feet magically take me to the passenger side.
He drives us into an industrial area with little traffic, then proceeds to educate me on the joys of driving. HORSEPOWER. TURBO. FUCK YES. Stall a few times? Of course, but man I had FUN. I had no idea why people were so into cars. Now I knew. What a terrible mistake I made that fateful day.
Fast forward to a week before my fuck up. The lead car and I were gracefully making turns at speed. Lagging behind were a few Camaros: late model and fully packaged. In the distance, a man tips his sunglasses down; he helps a beautiful woman out of his shiny grey Viper. Loud roars rip up the smoke filled air and cheers erupt, as a GT-R breaks down and barfs its fluids all over the asphalt playground. A place where Mustangs gallop freely, Corvettes go unchecked, and even an old LeSabre makes the cut for attention: ********* Raceway.
Back on the technical track, one of the Camaros, white with a young driver, groans as he tries to catch up with me. I don't bother braking for the upcoming turn. Neither does he. The fool doesn't realize my car can take the turn easily at 80kph. I take the turn and my wheels screech, rubber etching away like an eraser. He gets up to 100, ready to ride my tail again when he eats the turn too fast and furiously slides into the dirt, dragging left when he should have gone right. Seeing the white car plow into the dust cloud gave me a smug feeling of satisfaction. Just knowing my Red Comet could easily outmaneuver a powerful White Demon would be my eventual downfall.
Confidence high, and with a taste of racing glory (even though it was more of a track tutorial, but I wrote it pretty excitingly, right?), I embark on a journey to find my car's limits. What else could I do with the Red Comet? Then it hit me: Rally Cross. It was so obvious, why buy a rally car, and take it to a street track? Several youtube videos later has me thinking that I too, could enjoy expertly driving on dirt.
I find a public use area an hour away from my city, thinking I could try learning how to rally drive there. It's mostly sand, with a little gravel. I begin in a large sandy area with a lake nearby. It's a little difficult, and a little bumpy, but I take it slow. I find my way onto a dirt trail. I begin picking up speed as I see a buggy taking it easy on the trail. He slows down to let me pass. I take off at 80kph, despite not knowing what's ahead. I forge forward into unknown territory, the trails getting narrower. Shrubbery and wild grass tickle my paint job (sorry auto detailers!) and I narrowly miss a large hanging branch.
By now, I've realized: "Fuck, I'm on a dirtbike trail."
I'm in way too deep. There's no way to safely reverse (there was a lot of turning on the trail), and a u-turn was impossible. I continue forging on as best I can, slowly. I see a path on the left that looks like it loops back around. I take it, and feel instant regret. It's sandy, with a 35 degree incline inwards towards dead branches and stumps. Great for bikes and quads. Not great for a car. I nervously take it, knowing I may not have another chance to turn around. My nerves get the better of me, and I stall. Stalling in soft sand, I also try to accelerate out of the bank. Wrong move. The sand eats my wheels and inches me closer towards raised land, risking my entire driver's side to the mercy of mother nature.
I take a moment, and breathe. I curse a bit, as my aggressive track day performance has probably worn a bit on my summer tires, making it difficult to get out of sand. I try a "snow" mode on my car, and slowly inch my self forward and back (like a bad manual driver, revving high). Somehow I dislodge the car, and now find myself going the right way back. Success!
Like a bat wanting to get out of hell, I proceed to drive back faster than I had come into this crazy situation. Remember that hanging branch earlier?
SMASH
"HOLY SHIT!" I scream as I turn around to see a branch in my backseat, shards of glass EVERYWHERE. I turn back around to look at the trail, and now there's suddenly a log. I try to turn, but the trail wasn't having it. I'm forced to eat the log with the chin of my front bumper, shredding the plastic underside completely. I back out, and assess the damage.
A branch in my backseat, with my rear passenger glass everywhere. Another small branch on the trunk of my car, scratches, and spoiler slightly misaligned. Passenger side with some big scratch from the branch. Exhaust system misaligned. Front bumper grilled bashed in, bottom lip ruined, and plastic underbelly shredded. Wonderful. Not even gonna talk about my wheels.
I get back in my car, and slowly proceed to pass some dirt bikers on their way into the trail. Who knows what they thought of my poor half wreck, but I'm sure they're confused how my car was in that deep. I drove back to my city in shame for the next hour and a half, hearing plastic scrape the entire way (but somehow not stopped by a cop). I could not even do the speed limit, until I got into the city. It was embarrassing as fuck, but I think I learned a very important lesson that day.
For those that need closure, my car is 95% fixed up. It has a few battle scars, but I think it adds character. Thanks for tuning in, and sorry for such a long read.
Posted Aug 29, 2016, 11:18 PM UTC