(Amiga) Let's Play Road Rash Part 7
2EVENT OVERVIEW
Name: PIAA Pastoral Panic
Location: Grass Valley, Tuolumne, California
Qualifying Level: 2
Distance: 7.8 miles (12.6 kilometers)
BIKE SPOTLIGHT
Panda 600
Top Speed: 105 MPH (169 KMH)
Power: 90 HP (67 kW)
Weight: 450 pounds (204 kilograms)
Color: Muscat Metallic
Cost: $5,000
Resale Value: $2,500
Description: Good all-around sport bike. Light steering but lacks mid-range performance.
DESMO
Chapter 4 – Rebel Needing a Cause
From the moment he started divulging his father with what happened, Sergio knew that he was cannonballing into hot water. Try as he did to remain empathetic and proud that his son took after him in some abstract way, Firmin was resolutely furious at his son for his rashness and deceit. Having Argine confirm Sergio’s story and granting access to relevant recordings was enough to vindicate her of any purposeful wrongdoing, but it only worsened the miasma Sergio was in.
True to her word, Argine upheld her end of the bargain with the participants of the bet. Whether it was out of professionalism or spitefully showing his benefactors the bitter fruits of their egging on, she made sure everyone who gave money to Sergio’s fiasco earn their return on investment. Skittish about getting implicated should they ever get investigated, the vast majority pulled out of the arrangement before the official transfer was initiated, leaving only a few pesos as a sympathy payment for Sergio’s debut. Given that Argine left her camera in her closet and wanted nothing to do with her brother for the immediate future, it was evident that nobody was a winner when the dust had settled.
Still, at the barest minimum, Sergio still received his royalties on his first day back at class in the autumn of 1972. Against a splintered bond with his sister, a tenser relationship with his father, and a neutered reputation that barely had a chance to develop, he received enough of a payment to establish a precedent in his mind. So what if it was the result of students too good-natured not to milk money from the willfully injured? With scant reasons for him to reconsider his stance, Sergio’s embrace of extreme sports evolved into a love of the art form.
Knowing from Argine’s reports that Sergio’s status around school was radioactive and that he direly needed stimulation, Firmin concocted a method for his son to reconcile his actions. It, too, was a familiar one: a gainfully employed position at the family garage starting the following year. However, where he had once just done the grunt work of moving equipment and oil, Sergio was finally going to learn Firmin’s trade of choice.
At first, it seemed like he was on the road to recovery, understanding and applying the principles of mechanical maintenance. By the time he had graduated secondary school in 1974, Sergio had considered working under the tutelage of his father to be a reasonable alternative to vocational training. Regardless, the punishment that Firmin meted out for his son’s transgression would, paradoxically, only guide him further to his hazardous destiny.
This particular juncture was brought to the forefront by the time Sergio was gunning for his next rite of passage: his own means of transportation. Though it was fluid enough to prove he was able to receive registration, it was a completely different matter to actually secure the funding for his new wheels. Still, that didn’t stop him from encountering what he found in the summer of 1975.
During one of his nostalgic walks, recollecting his glory days in the LLL, Sergio noticed something suspicious in the grass. Given the weathering the machine had suffered, he deduced that the poor thing must have suffered in the elements; tantalizingly close to elicit the attention of passersby. Apart from a cracked headlamp, some noticeable patches of rust, and a seat reeking of spray, Sergio was confident that he was looking at a late model Honda CB350. Figuring that nobody was looking for it and wanting to not leave it for dead, he picked up the orphan and wheeled it back to the garage, a proposition brewing in his mind.
“I had been pestering my father about acquiring my first car at that point,” he expounded in a 1983 interview with Motorrad. “When I wheeled in the Honda into the garage for the first time, I could swear that I heard him drop his wrench the moment he saw my quarry. He jumped to conclusions, of course; accusing me of robbery and backsliding. It’s kind of laughable in retrospect that he thought that rusty, underpowered heap was a target for thieves, but he seemed to buy how I came into possession of it. Besides, I had a plan to secure that bike as my first ride.”
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