Post by fierano on Nov 29, 2006 3:21:34 GMT -5
Miami International Airport, Florida
February 2007
((Note: I'm changing Glimmer's first name to something a bit more "trendy." Please bear with it. Thank you. ))
A sleek ivory-white Lear Jet gracefully touched down upon runway 21, the result of years of successful training in VIP transport. The landing was so smooth that the occupants would probably have only felt the gentle pull forward as he deployed his brakes.
"Guten morgen, Herr Glimmer." came a voice with a stern Saxony accent over his internal radio-phone. "I hope you've had a pleasant flight."
Glimmer let out a soft moan as his eyes opened. Not that there was much to see apart from whatever was illuminated by the orange and yellow light trickling through their respective windows. He could probably see some of it reflecting off his hood, but those would probably be obscured by his new sponsor decals. He silently missed his old chrome-silver, but that was part of the price he had to pay to be who he was.
Not long after he could sense the jet coming to a stop, another spotlight, this time rectangular, panned open not too far in front of him as the jet's exit door opened.
"Time to get to verk. Your hauler is vaiting for you around ze front of ze VIP terminal."
Glimmer sighed, and started up his new engine. Despite being specially-developed in Germany, it was noisy as hell especially in these close quarters, and caused him to clench his teeth as he drove toward the light. He wasn't blinded as he rolled out of the darkness and back into the real world.
"Come on, you'll vant to make a good impression on your first day."
The Mercedes CLK named Jens Glimmer, or at least that's what his new body metal and decals would respectively indicate, rolled down the ramp and onto the tarmac, which was still cool this early in the morning. He could feel the wind - the last cold breezes fleeing from the incoming Miami heat - flowing across and around his sides. Around him he could see the rising sun glinting gently off the glittering glass airport building in the distance.
Glimmer closed his eyes and sighed, letting the rumbling of his engine rock his soul. So this is America...
The gloss-black-and-yellow Piston Cup racer stood on the tarmac for what seemed like an entire minute as the jet headed for his hangar, taking in the surroundings. Somewhere, the colorful neon landscape that he heard really lit up the Miami night would be shutting down, to put on its even brighter day colors. The high tide would be slowly rolling away to expose the sands where beach-goers could relax. Relax.
"Ahem, are vee forgetting vere ve're supposed to be going, Jensi?"
The sudden chatter quickly jolted Jens out of his sensory trance, and with a frustrated grunt, Pennziere Racing #57 started on his way toward the smaller, art deco VIP terminal, close by.
Arriving from the "cleaner" parts of the EU and reasonably fluent in the English language, Glimmer had no trouble clearing immigration. It almost put a smile on his face (if he could still smile) that none of his fans from his Deutsche Tourenwagen Masters days had made the trek over here to heckle him about his "decision" to move to the crude Piston Cup. Then again, it wasn't as if the move left him with many fans, let alone those that would want to move over to heckle him about the move anyway.
Logic games aside, Glimmer didn't immediately spot his driver as he exited the terminal onto the sidewalk. A friendly honking quickly gave away his driver's location though, as a similarly paint-schemed Peterbilt 387 with trailer pulled up to the team's new star.
"Hey, you must be Jens Glimmer!" the truck said with a friendly and very American voice and smile.
"Ja, I am..." Glimmer began, sounding even more dead-pan than a drip-pan.
"C'mon, what's with the long face?" he asked.
"Jetlag," was the CLK's excuse.
"Ah..." the Peterbilt took some time to let that sink over. "Anyway, the name's Rocko Barnes. You can call me Rocky."
"Sure...Rocky."
"Don't be like that, man! Look, the guys upramp prepared the trailer especially for your needs. I haven't seen inside, but I bet it's real cushy in there."
Jens could not believe how little this truck knew about the "guys upramp," especially Jens' guys. Still, he nodded. "Sure, sure. I'll have a look." The Piston Cup racer rolled around back as Rocky lowered the trailer door.
"Better get comfy in there, it'll be a bit of a ride if we can't beat the morning rush hour."
Jens looked inside as the interior of the trailer lit up. "Ja, looks real comfy."
"Told ya so. C'mon, get in. Your crew's already waiting for you at the track." Pete replied as Jens backed up the ramp and into the trailer.
The inside of the trailer looked like that hauntingly sterile-white room of a horror-movie/mental asylum where special "experiments" were carried out on the more unruly patients, minus the blood and tile pattern. It even had little implements or whatever the heck they were sticking out of the walls to take care of whatever Jens might need on the trip there, which clearly wouldn't be much.
It would have been even more disturbing to Glimmer if he hadn't actually had to make do with less than that during his training days for DTM and the period in which he was "re-assembled" to fit the desired racing specs, the latter which he had gone through once every year for the last few years.
But yes, it was comfortable as Rocky pulled away from the driveway and headed toward the route that would take them to the site of the first race of the Piston Cup Season: Palm Mile Speedway.
At least there were small windows in the sides of the trailer so he could watch the city go by...
February 2007
((Note: I'm changing Glimmer's first name to something a bit more "trendy." Please bear with it. Thank you. ))
A sleek ivory-white Lear Jet gracefully touched down upon runway 21, the result of years of successful training in VIP transport. The landing was so smooth that the occupants would probably have only felt the gentle pull forward as he deployed his brakes.
"Guten morgen, Herr Glimmer." came a voice with a stern Saxony accent over his internal radio-phone. "I hope you've had a pleasant flight."
Glimmer let out a soft moan as his eyes opened. Not that there was much to see apart from whatever was illuminated by the orange and yellow light trickling through their respective windows. He could probably see some of it reflecting off his hood, but those would probably be obscured by his new sponsor decals. He silently missed his old chrome-silver, but that was part of the price he had to pay to be who he was.
Not long after he could sense the jet coming to a stop, another spotlight, this time rectangular, panned open not too far in front of him as the jet's exit door opened.
"Time to get to verk. Your hauler is vaiting for you around ze front of ze VIP terminal."
Glimmer sighed, and started up his new engine. Despite being specially-developed in Germany, it was noisy as hell especially in these close quarters, and caused him to clench his teeth as he drove toward the light. He wasn't blinded as he rolled out of the darkness and back into the real world.
"Come on, you'll vant to make a good impression on your first day."
The Mercedes CLK named Jens Glimmer, or at least that's what his new body metal and decals would respectively indicate, rolled down the ramp and onto the tarmac, which was still cool this early in the morning. He could feel the wind - the last cold breezes fleeing from the incoming Miami heat - flowing across and around his sides. Around him he could see the rising sun glinting gently off the glittering glass airport building in the distance.
Glimmer closed his eyes and sighed, letting the rumbling of his engine rock his soul. So this is America...
The gloss-black-and-yellow Piston Cup racer stood on the tarmac for what seemed like an entire minute as the jet headed for his hangar, taking in the surroundings. Somewhere, the colorful neon landscape that he heard really lit up the Miami night would be shutting down, to put on its even brighter day colors. The high tide would be slowly rolling away to expose the sands where beach-goers could relax. Relax.
"Ahem, are vee forgetting vere ve're supposed to be going, Jensi?"
The sudden chatter quickly jolted Jens out of his sensory trance, and with a frustrated grunt, Pennziere Racing #57 started on his way toward the smaller, art deco VIP terminal, close by.
Arriving from the "cleaner" parts of the EU and reasonably fluent in the English language, Glimmer had no trouble clearing immigration. It almost put a smile on his face (if he could still smile) that none of his fans from his Deutsche Tourenwagen Masters days had made the trek over here to heckle him about his "decision" to move to the crude Piston Cup. Then again, it wasn't as if the move left him with many fans, let alone those that would want to move over to heckle him about the move anyway.
Logic games aside, Glimmer didn't immediately spot his driver as he exited the terminal onto the sidewalk. A friendly honking quickly gave away his driver's location though, as a similarly paint-schemed Peterbilt 387 with trailer pulled up to the team's new star.
"Hey, you must be Jens Glimmer!" the truck said with a friendly and very American voice and smile.
"Ja, I am..." Glimmer began, sounding even more dead-pan than a drip-pan.
"C'mon, what's with the long face?" he asked.
"Jetlag," was the CLK's excuse.
"Ah..." the Peterbilt took some time to let that sink over. "Anyway, the name's Rocko Barnes. You can call me Rocky."
"Sure...Rocky."
"Don't be like that, man! Look, the guys upramp prepared the trailer especially for your needs. I haven't seen inside, but I bet it's real cushy in there."
Jens could not believe how little this truck knew about the "guys upramp," especially Jens' guys. Still, he nodded. "Sure, sure. I'll have a look." The Piston Cup racer rolled around back as Rocky lowered the trailer door.
"Better get comfy in there, it'll be a bit of a ride if we can't beat the morning rush hour."
Jens looked inside as the interior of the trailer lit up. "Ja, looks real comfy."
"Told ya so. C'mon, get in. Your crew's already waiting for you at the track." Pete replied as Jens backed up the ramp and into the trailer.
The inside of the trailer looked like that hauntingly sterile-white room of a horror-movie/mental asylum where special "experiments" were carried out on the more unruly patients, minus the blood and tile pattern. It even had little implements or whatever the heck they were sticking out of the walls to take care of whatever Jens might need on the trip there, which clearly wouldn't be much.
It would have been even more disturbing to Glimmer if he hadn't actually had to make do with less than that during his training days for DTM and the period in which he was "re-assembled" to fit the desired racing specs, the latter which he had gone through once every year for the last few years.
But yes, it was comfortable as Rocky pulled away from the driveway and headed toward the route that would take them to the site of the first race of the Piston Cup Season: Palm Mile Speedway.
At least there were small windows in the sides of the trailer so he could watch the city go by...