Turtle's Pace
Turtle’s Pace
By Ben Judd
The rails clacked as the mighty locomotive slowed down, hissing steam, and letting the whistle pierce the cold night air. The steam locomotive’s staff jumped to position as it came to a rest in the crowded terminal. The station was located in Umdrehung, the crown jewel of the Western Peninsula States, from its flourishing industry to its leading role in art movements, the metropolis stood as a bastion through even the darkest of times. A short stocky dog, nicknamed Bully despite his disposition, tapped Jack, an old turtle whose strength was apparent despite his age, on the arm. Then he yelled over the din, “It’s over here, come on!” Despite Jack’s less than ideal hearing, Bully’s deep strong voice came clearly through the din and he followed his friend and teammate past the massive mirror-finished streamlined locomotive, to a freight car where a smartly dressed hawk stood. “Are you here for car No. 42? If so you must sign here,” commanded the hawk, dressed in a blue uniform with gold trimmings, reminiscent of the ceremonial military garb of the Great Northern Train Co. Bully, being the car caretaker, signed the paper as Jack walked up the stairs into the freight car and went to his car.
The car sat fairly low to the ground with an aggressive front splitter and massive multi-layer rear wing. The vents for cooling were integrated to the car’s overall streamlined look, a bit reminiscent of an E-Type Jaguar. The cockpit of this contraption was small but perfectly suited to fit Jack who slid in and inserted the key, which maintained security despite hardly weighing anything. Jack, then reminded of his days as a fighter pilot, despite them being older than his friend Bully, flicked a skeletal toggle switch, starting the fusion reactor that produced the power for this steam car. Jack turned a dial to low power, Bully meanwhile, opened the exit on the freight car. Bully said something to the hawk then barked at Jack, “See you at the track!” This particular league required a race car to drive for at least a portion of the trip.
Jack pulled the car out onto the road with barely any use of the throttle even as he drove on the mainstreet. While Jack believed in Bully’s engineering skills in spite of his friend’s lack of good logistical skills, the turtle no longer trusted his own driving skills. He had once been a flying ace and an unparalleled driver, able to overcome any challenging vehicle given to him. Until on his way to the last race of the season a few years ago, he failed to see a car and the hit spun the car. He fought for control but ultimately it was unsuccessful. It only implicated more cars. After recovering he hadn’t joined any more race series, claiming to be a liability to other drivers. Then Bully came to his house and excitedly greeted him, nearly yelling as he exclaimed, ”You know how the steam powered cars were given great limitations? Well I developed a new car that can fit within the stringent weight restrictions yet produce plenty of power and maximize grip and YOU’RE the only driver I know who could control it.”
Jack had given into the puppy eyes, but as he merged onto the expressway he found himself very much regretting that decision a year ago. He approached quarter throttle and his speedometer shot up even as he fishtailed. Struggling to regain control of the obstinate car, he slipped into focus and almost immediately straightened it but it left him quite stressed as he continued onto the race track. With no fewer than ten more control issues, leading Jack to be certain his age was showing, the car arrived at the track.
Bully barked orders at the team and then turned to Jack “ I got my uncle, you know the one who runs the tire company, to be our logistics manager and to develop a new pair of racing slicks.”
Jack hesitated, then, slowly withdrawing into his shell, mumbled “What if ... I can’t race? I don’t really think my skills are still here.”
Bully barked “ Sure you can race! What next? I can't design due to my age? Just give it your best shot!”
Jack slipped back into the car flipped the toggle switch and very hesitantly spun the dial to max. He sped down the first straight like a runway then hit the brakes. The obstinate car’s tires screeched as he turned in. Certain now that he had some grip, he hesitantly touched the throttle right after coming out of the apex. The car spun. He fought for control. It continued to spin. Jack slowly got sick as he saw wall-road-wall-road. He shut his eyes and he hid in his shell until the tires finished their squealing.
Finally on his third attempt Jack finished the turn and shot on to the next curve. He completed his first lap, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Bully he had set the power to medium. Pulling the car into the pit stop the turtle soldiered off to lunch. Annoyed at slowing reaction times and indecisiveness he stabbed his spoon into the soup. He drifted through his memories. Of the time where he accidentally landed on the ice and managed to take off before falling in. Of his first season, racing through a hurricane…
The rain beat down. His heart beated to the rhythm of the V8. The red lights of the car breaking in front of him, his only reassurance he wasn’t the only one left. Nonetheless he floored it right through the corner. The lights of the car were soon out of sight of his rear view mirror. Just as he hit the brakes for the next corner, lightning struck. He missed his turn in, flying off the road. Jack got out and pushed the car back onto the tarmac before returning to the cockpit. He floored it. Shifted to second. Third. Fourth. Despite his shaking paws he sped past first.
Jack thought back to this “golden age” of his skill and sighed. He slowly got up from his lunch and shuffled back to the car. It was his turn to set a qualifying lap. Even with the dial set to medium he still flew down the straights. Into the first corner the car felt planted. Second still planted. He knew the car had more grip but just gave himself a buffer for his error. The car finished its qualifying lap decidedly mid-range.
Before the race, Bully pulled the turtle off to the side. He sat him down at a well appointed table with a china teapot full of fresh, hot tea. “ I know you lowered the power setting, that doesn’t bother me. What BOTHERS me is your mosereness of ‘being out of your prime’. I want you to challenge yourself. I don’t care if you win but I do care if you limit yourself!” Now Bully barked full-forcedly, “NOW. GO. WIN. YOUR RACE!”
Jack sauntered off to the car and buckled up. He drove to the starting grid. The green flag dropped. Tires screeched. First Corner. Second Corner. Coming in the pit stop Jack still sat mid-pack. Bully ran up to the car holding a thin piece of paper as the tires were changed and fuel and water topped off. “To Jack, I know you're old but I doubted you let me win so easily, Your Obedient Servant, Joseph” read Bully who then looked quizzically at his friend. Jack’s mind went back to his fighter pilot days…
Joseph and himself flew around the ruined castle preparing for the festival. Joseph flew between the trees before landing in the gateway of the castle. Jack flew through the broken arches and between the towers before landing on a long stretch of wall. Jack won the contest by one vote. The rivalry started.
“Jack” barked Bully “GO!” Jack looked at the dashboard and spun the dial to max despite his shaking paws. Jack and Joseph had been in a competition to see who could win the most events. They were tied. Jack floored it down the second straight, masterfly evading cars that seemed to come to a stand still. He shot around apex after apex. The once obstinate car suddenly seemed simple and precise. The wheels screeched as he fought for every ounce of grip. His eyes darted about then he drew alongside Joseph, the current leader.
Lap after lap the two traded positions only hundreths of a second apart, their tire temperature continuing to rise. The fastest portion of the track approaches. Jack goes for an overtake. Screech! Jack spun. Pop! Arms, head, legs, tail shot inside his shell. Wall-Road-Wall-Road-Wall-Road. His hinged plastron snapped shut. Pop! Both back tires blew out. Screeeech! The metal screamed as it scraped on tarmac. Wall-Road-Wall-Road. His shell stayed firmly closed. A red flag is called and loudly announced, but Jack doesn't hear anything. Wall-Road-Wall.
Finally the spin stops. Jack takes a second to recompose himself. He opens his plastron. He looks around him and sees parts scattered on the ground. The turtle slowly inches forward to the pit stop. His eyes darting about, every muscle tensed. The car squirmed as the wheels ran right on tarmac. He saw a totaled car on the side. Slowly the car limped to the pits. Then he saw the red flag.
“Yeah, that spin forced other cars to take evasive actions. Some messed up and caused a domino effect,” Bully somber-ly told him.
Jack looked back at the car, which was undergoing quick repairs. “Is there any way to lessen the oversteer?”
Bully gave a mischievous grin. “Upon watching you race we’re making a few changes.”
Jack lined back up at the starting grid. He was down a lap. The race restarted and the turtle got himself some space. He found they had tinkered with the engine and the turbine now produced even more power. Jack cautiously went through the first corner. It had more grip. He sent it on the next corner. Rocketed down the straight. Chucked the car through the next corner. It held. Car after car fell into his rearview mirror.
Bully confirmed his suspicion when he stopped for a pitstop “This is the new tire compound, add in aerodynamic tweaks and quick adjustments on the engine. Glad it seems you like it.”
Jack was back on the track chasing down Joseph. He loosened his tensed muscles and felt what the car was telling him. Corner after corner flowed. Floor it. Brake. Turn. Accelerate. The car stayed predictable. Joseph saw the turtle in his rearview mirror and began to match Jack’s rapid pace. They began to lap the other cars. Joseph’s car was electric, while Jack’s was steam powered. At the slow section of the circuit and coming out of every corner Joseph’s car pulled further away. Next on a long straight Jack flew past Joseph and continued to gain a lead up until a very tight slow section.
Lap after Lap continued. The audience gasped as the leaders, Jack and Joseph, went at one point 100mph faster than competition. Jack knew he had to take a risk. He fired the car up the inside around corner one. SCREECH! The rear-end broke loose. Jack counter-steered. Screech! He still fishtailed and skillfully fought for control. He kept his movements smooth. Finally he centered himself. Joseph had also over driven but had taken longer to recover. Now, Jack only had to hold on.
The turtle floored it down the final straight, Joseph right behind him. He saw the checkered flag. He won! Jack let out a deep breath and went for a victory lap.
“I knew you could do it Jack,” barked Bully. Followed by a large pat on his carapace.
Jack knew he wasn’t done with racing.
Not yet.