NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: For those few who don't know what [closed] means, just don't post in this thread and you'll be fine. If any of y'all really feel the need to comment, I'll be making an OOC thread where people can do that. Feel free to point out any typos especially, but only in the OOC thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=436262).

IC:

The Art of Car
A Texan Hotrodders Production: No Rights Reserved

After a long life of building, driving, testing, and racing cars, those beautiful machines were all Charles Monteverde ever thought about anymore. Unfortunately, all he could do was think about them, now that he had passed the age limit for racecar drivers that had been mandated by the HotRodian Racing League. Not that he was still bitter about that, of course. At the age of eighty-six, an age that most Hotrodders would refer to as "antique", Charles had a great deal of time to spend becoming bitter, but hadn't quite managed it yet. Mostly because he spent all of that time thinking about the cars. The cars he had driven, thoroughly punished on the track, and in some cases had become truly intimate with, knowing completely every curve, every texture, every smell, every noise, and every quirk of performance. They were what kept him alive, those memories of those grand cars, the way they performed on the hot tarmac, the way they rumbled as the pedal ground into the floor, the way they made him feel utterly alive as he careened around hairpin turns at unsafe speeds.

***

Lisandra Rodiana meandered along the edge of the infamous Finalerta race track, looking at the place where her mother had died in a particularly vicious GT race several years ago. She laid a small bouquet of freshly-cut flowers against the gentle slope of the hillside, and prayed to Supercarious that her mother had gone to The Great Car Show in the Sky, as all those who truly loved cars did. Many drivers had met the end of their corporeal lives on this track located in the heavily-populated town of Engineton, because the track was composed of numerous blind turns, sharp turns, and very little in the way of the straight and flat sections that make for safer racing. That was also the reason so many cars had been totalled on this track. The harsh conditions were ideal for testing cars, and many companies and individuals conducted such testing here. It was said that if your car could survive being driven fast at Finalerta, it could survive being driven fast at any track. There was some truth to that saying.

Juli Rodiana watched carefully as her younger sister Lisandra stood silently on the grass-covered hill a few hundred meters away. She was worried about her sister, and had been for weeks. Since the death of her fiance in a racing accident a month ago, Lisandra had shown all the signs of clinical depression, her morose demeanor distrubing even the infamously reserved Juli. After a few moments, Juli watched her dark-haired sister walk slowly down the hill and back to the car they had driven to the track. Knowing that Lisandra would wait for her, Juli took her own pilgrimage to the hill where her mother had died. While walking up the hillside, Juli noticed an old man sitting in front of the stands on what looked like an old lawn chair. She made a mental note to find out what he was doing there, and wondered if he was here for the same reason she was here. Maybe the old man had lost a loved one as well.

***

The light filtered through the thick, moist air that was characteristic of the weather here in Engineton and allowed Fred Gadon to see the problem with the right-front wheel on his classic THR Matador. It was just a small scratch, easy to fix. That was good, considering that he would be racing it in the Classic GT class race at the Finalerta track the next day. After doing a quick fix on the wheel, Fred doffed his white coveralls that held off the heat surprisingly well and went to thank the manager of the small auto-repair shop that had kindly allowed Fred access to his space and tools. The drive to the parking lot of the Engineton Imperial Hotel went without incident, and Fred decided to exercise, then get some food, clean himself up with a cold shower, and get some much-needed sleep. Normally he would have preferred to engage in some playful carousing and debauchery with the beautiful and still-single-for-a-reason women at the local grills, but the consequences of that wouldn’t be good for tomorrow’s race, so he grudgingly put it off until tomorrow night after he won the race.

He had barely noticed the women at first, being rather absorbed in his own reminisces, but Charles Moteverde's senses were eventually awakened fully when the second one started walking slowly towards him across the track. He began to wonder about what they were doing here. It was not uncommon to see attractive women at a racetrack, but mostly they were only there during the race and business hours. Besides, Charles had checked the public notice of reservations, and no person or organization had reserved the track for this time, which was why he felt free to relax out here at one of his former haunts as a driver. As the woman drew closer, he tried to straighten his silver hair with his hand and managed to simply exacerbate the unkempt look. That done, he sat straighter in the lawn chair and waited for her to speak, trying not to look as eager as he felt to speak to a pretty young lady.

***

Lisandra Rodiana sat stiffly in the comfortable leather driver's seat of the HRMC Chromera she shared with her sister Juli, wondering what was taking so long. Sighing loudly, she turned on the air conditioner so that at least she could wait in a relatively cool environment. The AC would at least keep the temperature down to an acceptable 90 degrees, which would ensure that Lisandra wouldn't suffer from the all-to-common illness of heat exhaustion while waiting for her sister to return. It wasn't as if Juli would have much to say to Mom anyway, considering that she and Mom had never gotten along all that well while she was still living. Lisandra decided that the satellite radio would keep her occupied for the moment, and further decided to choose some music that would annoy her sister.

Once she was only a few feet away from the old man in his decrepit lawn chair, Juli started the conversation.

"So whatcha doin' out here old-timer?" she asked, with a more respectful tone than most people would have.

"Enjoying my golden years, young lady," responded the man with the mussed silver hair, smiling in a friendly manner as he did so. "There is nothing quite like the smell of a good racetrack. I may be old, but I have never forgotten that gorgeous smell. It is even better when you are driving it, of course, but even now..."

By this point, Juli had guessed that this man was a former driver like her mother. Well, maybe not all that much like her mother. This man actually seemed nice. On a whim, Juli decided to start talking about her mother and sister and why she was here today. She didn't know it, but that decision would change her life irrevocably.

***

The big oak desk didn't quite manage to overshadow the elderly, slight, well-dressed gentleman sitting behind it, Eldon Farrel. It was a small job, this managing of Monteverde Motorports, but apparently it required a big desk nonetheless. Eldon yawned and, noticing he was tired, looked at his timepiece. It was two hours after he had been planning to leave work. Lulu, his twenty-year old girlfriend, would surely be upset and nag at him for this. Of course, her emotional state would probably make her even more energetic than usual tonight, which could be a good thing. He would just have to sleep in tomorrow morning, was all. It wasn't as if anything much happened around here that needed his attention anyway.

One day later...

Fred Gadon rolled out of bed and immediately fell flat on the floor. He groaned as he felt the powerful tingle of the pain in his head, muscles, and joints. The tumble off of the nice hotel bed had awakened his senses, giving him an all-too-awful perception of the state his body was in. Some of it was from the hours of driving, which was to be expected. Some of it was from the drinking and carousing afterwards, which was also to be expected. Unfortunately, none of his expectations--great as they were--made his body stop feeling like it had been tenderized like a good slab of beef. Fred picked himself up off of the floor gingerly, cleaned himself up, and went for a relaxing drive to clear his head. As he was driving and the cobwebs were slowly dissipating, Fred saw a sign that read; Monteverde Motorsports. Fred knew that Charles Monteverde, the famous world-class driver, was the owner of Monteverde Motorsports. Thinking that it would be great to take a look at the place and maybe meet a racing legend, Fred slowed the Matador and pulled into the parking lot.

***

Lisandra followed the old man's classic SMW Belleville over to an equally old building that was apparently the headquarters of Monteverde Motorsports. When they arrived in the front lot, Charles and Lisandra and Juli stepped out of their vehicles to find a casually-dressed youngish man peering in through the tinted-glass doors. They watched as he tried several times to open the door and failed each time. Charles sighed, reached into the left front pocket on his pants, and retrieved a small set of keys. Lisandra heard him mutter what sounded like, "Damn you Ellen." Once Charles had opened the doors everyone introduced themselves. Unsurprisingly, they began talking about cars.

"So how long have you been racing, Mr. Monteverde?" asked Fred Gadon, clearly in awe of the man standing before him. Juli smirked at Fred's child-like expression and exchanged amused glances with Lisandra.

"I don't race anymore, so I guess I'll just tell you how many years I spent racing. It was thirty-four wonderful years, as I recall. Much longer than either of my failed marriages," he added self-deprecatingly, sporting an ironic smile on his lined face. Juli sent him a comforting smile in response.

"Do you still have any of the cars you raced with back in the day?" asked Fred, pressing for more information from his childhood hero.

"No. All of the cars I've ever raced with are in various museums around the Federation," replied Charles.

"That's too bad,' said Fred. "I bet you wish you could have kept a couple."

"I sure do, Fred." Charles crinkled his face as if he had just remembered something and added, "I need to go make a phone call so you three can just chat until I get back." The old gentleman walked quickly to his office and shut the door.

***

Eldon yawned expansively, pried himself from Lulu's comforting arms, and stumbled his way across the bedroom to the ringing phone on top of his breakfast table. He put the phone up to his ear and heard, "Why the hell weren't you in this morning, Eldon? You're supposed to be here early each morning to open the doors and get everything set up."

Eldon looked frantically at his watch, cursed under his breath, and tried to think of an excuse but couldn't quite manage it. He was much too tired for such strenuous thought. "Sorry, Charles. I'll be in shortly."

"Good," came the cold response. Eldon wondered what had gotten into the older man. He usually wasn't so demanding because of the fact that Monteverde Motorsports had so little to do these days. Eldon stretched and began to clean himself up so he could go in to work, hoping that Charles would be in a better mood once Eldon arrived.

Lisandra opened her mouth as soon as Charles had closed the door to his office. "So are you a big star on the racing circuit, Fred?" she asked, knowing that he probably was not a star because she had never heard of him before. She anticipated his subsequent embarrassment and insecurity because of his relative anonymity, knowing that male drivers often had fragile egos, but was disappointed.

"No," said Fred simply. "I don't race in the more popular events that gain a driver fame. I prefer to race without all the hype that surrounds the big spectacles. I like it when it's just me and the other drivers on the track with a few die-hard gearheads in the stands who can fully appreciate the sport."

Fred decided that now was a good time to change the subject and turned his attention to Juli. "Are you a driver too?" he asked.

Juli looked surprised by the question. "Uh..no. I'm an automotive engineer. I build the cars; I don't drive them. And Lisandra isn't a driver either. She's an artist. She does beautiful renderings of automobiles, though."

***

Charles Monteverde leaned his thin frame back into the cushiony surface of his chair and watched the younger folks chat for a moment before leaving. He decided to re-enter the conversation. After a few minutes he discovered that in this one room he had found a driver, engineer, and stylist. Charles had never been one to believe on the existence of ephemeral spirits and deities, but this made him re-evaluate his beliefs for a moment. Such a coincidence being contrived would fit with the Combustian god called Supercarious, a deity known for his subtlety and love for all things automotive. Shortly, Charles realized that he was being silly and went back to the conversation, thinking that whether it was Supercarious' doing or not he might as well take advantage of it.

Two weeks later..

As he lounged in his office at Monteverde Motorsports, Eldon blew a ring of smoke towards Charles' face, knowing that the older man wouldn't mind. Charles actually seemed to enjoy the smoke from Eldon's favorite cigars that were imported from the region of Cuba. Eldon watched as Charles sighed with pleasure, and turned towards the small telly on which the video feed from the security cameras was displayed. On the screen they could see one man and two women discussing something in the design facilities, and Eldon guessed from their expressions that they were not talking about cars. He glanced at Charles and the older man nodded in reply, as if to say that he knew what Eldon was thinking and agreed with it.

***

Fred laughed so hard that he almost fell onto the hard cement floor of the room in which he stood. Lisandra's drawing of what kind of car he should have was absolutely nonsensical. The car was the spitting image of a penis on wheels, which certainly told him what Lisandra thought of him. It also told him that she was a good artist, which would be useful if they ever started to work seriously on this thing.

Juli just rolled here eyes at her sister's rendering and left the room. There was no use in being here if they weren't going to get any work done.

Three days later...

The silver tray that Eldon was carrying felt wonderfully cool to the touch as he walked through a doorway and was engulfed by the warm air of the design facilities, and he longed to drink the chilled margaritas that sat so alluringly before him on the tray. Unfortunately, the drinks were not for his consumption. The three younger Hotrodders that sat hunched over a drafting table, collectively considering Lisandra's latest styling sketches, would reap Eldon's laborious efforts in making the delicious drinks. Idly Eldon wondered what Lulu would want to drink tonight. Perhaps he could talk her into letting him fix margaritas instead of drinking HotRodia Tequila straight from the bottle.

***

Charles Monteverde was pleased after hearing Eldon's report of the solid progress that was being made on the design portion of the project. Charles had not been pleased with the progress made on the first day of the project, mostly because no progress at all had been made. Still, it was probably normal for younger Hotrodders to need to get to know each other a little before working together seriously. He knew that his own generation operated somewhat differently from those that came later.

Several months later...

Lisandra and Juli looked admiringly at their new creation, developed over months of hard work, unaware that Fred was walking up behind them, admiring their respective curves rather than the smooth lines of the car. They exchanged glances, and noticed his approach in their peripheral vision. Old friends now, they both gave him a hug when he reached the spot where they were standing. Much as he cared for the two women who had worked long hours with him in refining the form and function that was before him, the car was all he could think of, the drive he would be taking it for tomorrow at the official introduction of the latest creation of Monteverde Motorsports, the Monteverde Finalerta Rodiana.

***

Charles Monteverde felt a happiness, an excitement that had been gone from him for so long. Race day was nigh. After hours of sketching, modeling, designing, testing, re-testing, road-testing, and performance testing, not to mention the numerous calibration runs on the Finalerta track itself, his last work was complete. Charles could not thank those who had made it possible enough. As it was, they were now listed in his will, which he hoped would be a small boon to their lives, and an appropriate expression of his gratitude. He raised his bottle of HotRodia Tequila Gold in silent thanks to Supercarious.

The next day...

Eldon stood behind Charles as the press conference began, offering silent support for his longtime friend. His friend, old now, was standing straighter and exhibiting much more life than he had in quite some time. Eldon had noticed Charles' energy and humor gradually improving as the Finalerta Rodiana was being developed at Monteverde Motorsports. It was as if the old man had been given back the life he had owned before, regained what had driven him for so many years. Eldon knew that Charles was planning to race the new car on the track later today, and truly experience one more time what had brought him to start Monteverde Motorsports in the first place. Love had brought him there. Love for the cars, for driving, for the people who made both those things possible and enjoyable.

***

Fred Gadon changed into his driving gear quickly and silently, knowing that Lisandra was watching with that quiet smile on her well-formed face. She had become a close friend over the past months, despite being somewhat combative at first. Now, as then, he knew that it was a defense mechanism she used to keep her from getting involved with the men she found attractive. He knew from several conversations that she had been burned badly by a previous boyfriend whom she had been much too serious about, and had lost her mother suddenly as well, which had not helped. Fred decided, as he was putting his street clothes in the locker, that he would take her out tonight. Walking over to Lisandra, he smiled and asked her to wish him luck. She replied that he did not need luck, and returned the smile.

Two hours later...

Charles Monteverde found himself behind the wheel of a wondrous machine once again, enjoying the much more comfortable seating in the Finalerta Rodiana that was considerably better than the seats his much younger body had endured during his prime racing years. Normally Charles didn't indulge in excessive reminiscing or philosophizing, but today he allowed himself the luxury after the tedium of the press conference speech. He remembered now, the moments that had really mattered were those moments when he used his driving talents to do something great for other people. When he had inspired them, raised money for their charities, and given them a chance to live a dream through him. The best and most blessed times of life were the moments, the moments in which the car he drove was the vehicle of the human spirit.

***

Fred knelt down next to the car and spoke to Charles, asking him if he was ready. The older gentleman nodded and pressed the ignition, and the smoothly-tuned engine turned over. Fred watched the tires catch the track and move the car forward, it's sleek form reflecting the sunlight beaming downm onto the pavement, and then turned and headed towards the control center to watch the video feed with Juli and Lisandra.

Lisandra watched the gorgeous machine climb the paved slopes and pivot effortlessly around the turns of the track on the screen in front of her. She felt Fred come up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder as she saw the car she helped create heading into the last few turns. As it neared the spot where her mother had died, the car slowed and turned off the road, coming to rest on that familiar hill. Somehow Lisandra knew what was happening, felt it a fitting end to the story of Charles' life. This time, she felt a sense of peace at the passing of a person she loved.

***

Charles knew what this pain meant, and in the wisdom gained through a long life as a driver, decided to pull off the road rather than trying to continue and damage the car. He considered getting out of the car, but the truth was that this was his home, his heart, and was where he wanted to be when Supercarious came to take him up to the Great Car Show in the Sky, to drive for eternity with the Engine That Drives the Universe. He smiled, and gave himself back to the world that had produced him.