My New... Race Car, That's It, Race Car
By kickahaota 24 Comments
My experience with Gran Turismo 5 tonight illustrates how inapproachable-and-yes-still-somehow-fun I'm finding it.
Having reached A-spec level 9, and having sort of hit a wall in terms of what races I could field a competitive car for in the Amateur Series, I decide to double back and see if there are any interesting-looking races in the Beginners Series that I'd skipped. Okay, there's one... Japanese Classics. Open to Japanese cars from 1979 and earlier. Okay. Let's check my Garage... no, nothing there.
Okay, so I'll have to find a car, hopefully a cheap car. But this being Gran Turismo V, it's not just going to say "Okay, here's all the cars that you can buy that will qualify for this race; pick one to buy." Oh, no. You have to go out and scour the dealerships. And given the nature of the race, even the dealerships weren't likely to be helpful, since most self-respecting car dealerships won't keep a car from the mid-70's on the lot. So, off to the Used Car Dealer. Let's see... any way to sort this list by year or by country? Of course not. What was I thinking? Okay, scroll, scroll, scroll... check the years, check the makes... Oh, look, here's one I can afford. A Subaru 360 '58, with barely 240000 miles on it. How much more Japanese Classic can you get? BUY.
So, off to the tuning shop... and almost immediately I realize that there is trouble on the horizon. My bouncing blue arrival has a breathtaking... 18 horsepower. Yes, it has less power than my go-cart. But at this point, I'm feeling committed. I've bought this car to be a racing machine, and a racing machine it must be. So, a few strategic upgrades, and I've brought it up to a breathtaking... 28 HP.
Hmm. This still seems somehow unconvincing. But I'm not prepared to lose hope yet. Maybe Japanese Classics were just really... really... quite slow. So, off to the track. And as I sit at the line, I feel a bit more of my confidence drain away. These other cars seem... larger. Their motors sound vaguely like actual motors, unlike my car, which sounds like a lawn mower with delusions of grandeur. And when the green light drops, the rest of the field rapidly recedes into the distance like a coalition of highly fuel-efficient cheetahs.
But I have brought this car to race, and race I shall. And so, as the other cars screech through distant corners and jostle for position, I resolutely guide my three-speed missile around the track, reaching breathtaking speeds occasionally approaching an insane forty-nine miles per hour. And as I finally cross the finish line and collect my tenth-place prize, I imagine the tales that will someday be told of this race, and the driver who never gave up, and why he's no longer allowed on the grounds of Suzuka Circuit.