Brownstain Chicane

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Me [passing my ‘event rival’, Nathan McKane]:”Oh, look … it’s Nathan McF*ckface — bye bye, F*ckface.” ¹

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I’ve been killing individuals for some time now … and it’s been … cathartic, I suppose.

However, for each consumer there comes a time when the excessive simply can’t be chased any extra … when no quantity will satiate the necessity … and, while I’ve not run out of heads to shoot nor bullets to place in them, it simply isn’t slicing it for me anymore . Or, somewhat, it’s slicing it an excessive amount of — I would like a more durable, sooner hit to maintain the intrusive ideas at bay … my meditation is turning into porous across the edges … issues are creeping in.

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So … I’ve lastly needed to cave and change to motor racing.

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I’ve been placing it off.

In comparison with the coke fueled rampage of the primary individual shooter, motor racing is the adrenaline junkie’s armful of bath meth; it’s quick, brutal and there’s nowhere to go afterwards — it’s the final prepare to oblivion and there’s no return service (when you get to the tip of that line, it’s recreation over).

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In accordance with the voice in my ear, I simply set the quickest lap this race.

And, certainly, the brown stain seeping via my underwear and trousers … ruining the couch … is testomony to that.

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Different banalities I might do with out being distracted by when making an attempt to navigate the hair’s breadth between life and fireball embody

“That was off tempo for sector one.”

“That was off tempo for sector two.”

“That was off tempo for sector three.”

“Attempt to shave a little bit of day without work your laps.”

I’ll shave a bit off you in a minute, mate! ²

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After a bout of updates about my progress, Forrest the Great remarked “Lol! A lot anger”

I demurred with the commentary that “Earlier than each race I’m advised whom I’ve to beat as my group/race rival, so I determine I should enter into the spirit of issues.”

However that’s not strictly true.

It’s technically true … insofar as I’m able to abstractly considering it when placed on the spot.

However, actually, I am offended.

Very offended.

Duh … I’m behind the wheel of a automobile and persons are making an attempt to run me off the street!

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Look … I’m the primary to confess it … the Endurance competitors, just like the Tuner competitors, isn’t my forté. Excessive velocity Formula class automobiles, I’m surprisingly good with. Likewise avenue racing (my greatest self-discipline, in truth). And, while I won’t come first each time, I may even maintain my very own in Touring class competitions. In relation to driving a Chevvy Breezeblock Aircushion, nonetheless … skittish AF, irrespective of how I tune it, and simply retains on touring in no matter route the wind final blew it ³ … for hours on finish, within the rain and the darkish

… yeah, no, it simply doesn’t play to my strengths — second within the bed room is one factor, however sixteenth is taking issues a bit too far, IMO.

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What’s that you simply say, Cletus?

“Y’all simply don’t posses the skillz to drive an actual man’s automobile”

Actually? and what use would these ‘skillz’ be to me? I’m by no means gonna f*ck my sister.

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So, I’m by no means in a good temper after a type of.

And I actually don’t have time to concentrate to minor particulars on the sorts of speeds I’m touring at … at which a miscalculated millimetre can imply a spectacular finish to my driving profession … and might’t say who

… however some of the drivers appear to have such a hard-on for my Gary that, subsequent time, I’mma need to spoil each our days, slam the brakes on, get out and demand f*cking lease!

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In truth, in one of the competitions, it transpired that the homicidal rapist making an attempt to ramraid my arse … shunt me over the hills and into orbit … was none aside from my very own teammate!

He has tried to commit highspeed homicide so typically now that I’m starting to marvel if there isn’t extra to it than easy skilled rivalry, private dislike, and even his having been paid (or put underneath stress) — whether or not he isn’t, maybe, sleeping with my spouse behind my again.

As a result of, in the event you’re behind me within the endurance race, you’re both so shit you must simply give it up, mate … or there’s one thing else occurring.

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I’ve, nonetheless, famous one different contender for the individual I’m going to beat to dying with my helmet again within the pits award; coincidentally, one among my race rivals, Nathan McF*ckface (or regardless of the b*stard’s identify is ¹ ).

Properly, I braked … arduous … in his face, in the course of the ultimate lap of the ultimate race of the season, let me inform you (take that, F*ckface! ¹ ) and … hahahahahahahahaha … the f*cker crashed — placing me 4 factors forward of him and I received the season general (suck on that, f*ckface ¹ ).

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It took fairly a couple of replays earlier than I perfected the angle required to smash into my opponent … side-on, slowing him down sufficient to slide forward with out slowing myself down a lot I couldn’t move him … while undercutting him on the nook, and take first place with solely half a (very quick) lap left to go ⁴.

Then the voice in my ear stated “Your teammate has crashed — they’ve dropped to second.”

Yeah, yeah, no matter … I haven’t bought time to fret about them, I’m busy — I‘ve bought half a lap to go and seventeen different individuals up my Gary.

Wait, what?

Second?

So, meaning …

Oops! ⁷

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Anyway …

If you’d like the final word help to meditation … motor racing’s the factor.

Killing individuals leaves time to consider logistics: “Will I discover any extra well being/ammo and, if that’s the case, the place?” Time exists.

With motor racing, nonetheless, there’s solely room for the right here and now (a thousandth of a second is ceaselessly) and, while the explanations for it differ at varied instances, the one, and solely, thought in your head is “OhshitOhshitOhshitOhshitOhshit!!!”

Now that’s Zen.

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Proper … breaktime is over — it’s again to the grind for me.

I’m midway via an endurance race at midnight, hurtling round in 4 tons of ludicrously overpowered breezeblock with all of the roadholding of a hovercraft (the hot-air balloon of watercraft) … my tyres are already balder than a twelve-year-old and … having by some means (the Lord alone is aware of how) managed to get myself into fourth place … I’m desperately making an attempt to fend off fourteen homicidal Arschgeier with designs on my rear-end, while some dickhead distracts me … at millimetre essential moments while I’m touring so quick it is advisable journey backwards in Time to even see when/the place they’re going to be … by whining in my ear about my laptimes being a trillionth of a second slower than final time … which may be very distracting and …

OhshitOhshitOhshitOhshitOhshit!!!