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Quid pro quo, dear boy. I’m sure we’ll get along famously.


Ten Drivers so far. Some of sterling character. Many of wide repute. At least one slippery ratbastard.

I fear not at all for the quality of the adventure at hand.


We’re five behind our quota, so this isn’t strictly necessary, but just in case we get a crowd all at once, the next ten entries are in like Flynn once I say (as I’m saying right now):


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Some of the more mechanically-inclined members of my fam damily always held to the belief that Dodge’s slant-6s were some of the most solid engines of the era. 'Course, they’re all gone now… Dammit, Chelsea.


Ahh, the Slant 6. The Leaning Tower of Power. A legend in its day. I’d pick one over Chevy’s Stovebolt 6 in a heartbeat, if it weren’t for parts availability.

Not that you’d need them often.


You went to Em-Mighty? I thought that place was a myth or a temple or sumthin’, now it turns out it was a school! Wow, don’t that beat all.

When I learned to read and cipher, it was from looking’ at old Chilton manuals and that book by that visionary feller.

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Wait? What?

How many heads you got, mister?

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Must have been the 5.8 liter displacement limit kept you out of the Scouts! I don’t blame you for avoiding nerfing your ride down to a small-block, but keep in mind, that .50 cal of yours tends to make a lot of sound and fury signifying relatively little damage when you’re in the Mechanic class. Ditto that high-zoot engine of yours. You’d get a hell of a lot more speed and maneuverability outta that thing were you to consider joining up as a Scout.

But if your heart’s set on following the sacred creed of the Mekka-Necks, so be it. People will just have to wonder why such an imposing and eye-catching flash-mobile is so slow, and why there’s a big ol’ potato-launcher on the back that seems to launch actual potatoes. :wink:

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At first I thought you meant the Slant Sixes were gone. Hell, those mechanical cockroaches could survive being dropped into the sun.

But the mechanically-minded members of your family, well…

Damn Chelsea indeed!


Well, it was before the Big One, so while it was competitive, not uncommon. Still have one of the old polo shirts from one of the reunions that I keep around for sentimental reasons.

Click and Clack were real people too, it was a crazy time.



Are you tryin’ to say “Sasquatch?”

You know, I saw one of those critters once, big sucker, and boy did he stink. I tossed him some jerky though, and he went on his way without makin’ a lick o’ trouble.


I thought about it for a long, long time, but decided to start Mechanic just to make sure that someone out there could read, and was going to swap back to Scout if needed before things really got going.

Now that I see we have everything but a scout I’ll probably just move my little car over there and commit to it.

And just because I’m showing a single mounted .50 cal doesn’t mean it’s the only card in the deck…


Hey kid, relax, You’ll see when we get to Huntington’s that I ain’t no damned unhappy mutie. It’s just an old joke my second wife used to make…

…{a stifled sob briefly comes across the CB before the static cuts back in}


Susquehanna, it was a river outside Pittsburgh.

Kids these days.


It’s quite an odd thing; I was educated the expensive way - I know my claret from my Beaujolais; I can speak French, I even have a smattering of Latin, but for some reason I can’t fathom, I’ve totally forgotten how to read. Somewhat perturbing, to say the least.


Oh, The Virus, you hadn’t heard? Maybe had a head cold for a few weeks, laid you up in bed for a week or so, sneezing, headaches? Remember anything like that? Sometimes it came with brief amnesia, sometimes it straight out killed.

Nevertheless, I was told a while ago that the “letterbox” area was profoundly affected, it’s just over your left ear, but for the most part, aside from the headaches The Virus left you weak but unable to read. There’s a few who have been immune to it, the same way there was that guy up in Great Salt Lake that was immune to zombies. Damn shame what happened to him. Lynched by those religious nuts when he claimed he was a god or something, I heard.


I heard tell that happens to some folks, don’t make much sense to me, ‘ceptin’ maybe it’s got somethin to do with the way we get wired into our rides. I don’t think the docs are as good at it as they say they are.

When I got my ‘lectrodes implanted, something’ really goofy happened to my sense of hearing: when I hear an engine rev, I see a color. From blue when it’s just barely turnin over through green when it’s hittin the top of the power curve, and onto yellow then red as it flattens out up top.

Just sayin’



Ya know, I was never one for hitting the books but when I was a kid learning to drive uncle Egg’s tour bus around Chinatown I used to be able to read the roadsigns. Uncle Egg told me if I didn’t stop touching the rainstick that I’d lose my sight, so I always figured that’s what happened.


“We’re here to meet a friend.”

My name is Bubba Zanetti. I might talk a bit odd, but I’ve come a long way. Had to leave my Bike behind in the Wasteland – but those worries are an ocean away.

South of here, a … friend … loaned me the closest ride to a proper bike you’ll find on four wheels. A '66 Lotus Elan 26R.

Took a while to get that red orgasm working on Vegemite instead of pepperoni, but we’re slicker than goose shit now.

If you don’t know me, you’ve certainly have heard of my friends.

“Remember when you look at the night sky.”


Ha ha ha! Jolly, jolly, jolly, yes yes yes, wonderful thing this is, terrific bit of fun, so little of it left around nowadays, but still, reminds me of the time … yes, ahem, yes, times, thank you, not so much a tour you understand as a … rolling job, if you get the point. Something I found entertaining, fun on occasion, definitely had its advantages, kind of thing you’d do again and again, if one could, but best not to, how shall I say, umm … dwell. No don’t dwell! Tours … ah yes, I remember, all sorts, dry, hot, wet, cold, blood, guts, breakfast with the boys, off to another country! Ha! Those were the days. A man was free to stretch his legs, venture here, go there, take things, occasionally take lives, well, maybe more often than one would have liked … but that huh is quite another story, something else, perhaps for another day.

Major I am, bloody good one too at that, Major. Believe that with my name, in the British Army? Well yes, I am … or rather, was, s’pose I still am, well possibly; not; all depends how you view that thing in 2004, Nimroz, Afghanistan I think it was, me and the boys, ha! what a jape, couldn’t believe our luck, bit messy with the locals but then what isn’t eh?! Still, the takings were good, only really involved our little squadron - Apaches y’know, bloody good bit of kit - I’m an honourable chap, took the rap when it all came out, stood up for the boys, bigger cut and all that, half-wondering if Batesy isn’t still over at El Centro or Gila Bend, ha! wouldn’t be surprised, tough old thing he was too.

Joined up in 1990, approached, that sort of thing, British Army chap in Chad, of all places. Tap on the shoulder, I was in civvies at a cafe of sorts … of course civvies haha! What else would I bloody well have been wearing? Eh? Civvies, that’s right. Why he tapped me, well, liked the look of me I s’pose, asked me to join up some special unit, secret fighters and all that guff. Lovely time, learned to fly helicopters! Good at that too! Shame I couldn’t’ve had one of those lovely Apaches as a kid, would’ve given all sorts of hell to … yes, haha! What fun it would have been. Lots of all of that for quite a while, then, well, times change.

Made a fortune in '17. Couldn’t fend off the customers. Not many of them that lucky, at the end of it, but there you go. Nothing to do with me, did my best, always honourable. Did away with one or two very nasty clients, or rather, threw them to the hoards haha! '20 was a bit tough. Bit like Liberia, couple of tight spots there in the '90s. Did I say customers? I’m sure I meant the citizenry. Bloody mind’s going a bit with everything going on.

Still, I expect I don’t really have to explain quite how I come to be here now, do I?! Well, overall, got everything I ever wanted, once I’d grown out of my old place, left the folks behind, that kind of thing. Tough as an Irish prizefighter, me. Looking forward to a jaunt, visit some old haunts maybe?! Catch up with Batesy, yes, haha! Still owes me a tenner, I’m sure.

User: No. Never touch the stuff. Oh! Sorry, that’s what you meant! Peregrinus_bis
character: Major Joseph Talleyrand-LaRoche
vehicle: Land Rover Series IIa Pink Panther 1971 (right tools for the job, that kind of thing)
class: Scout. Tough one at that. Been around, once or twice. Some chap has the pictures.