TITLE: Legends Never Die
AUTHOR: Vid Z.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc of the TV show JAG are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fic. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
DEDICATION: Dedicated to Colin McRae the best rally driver of all times, who died in a tragic helicopter crash on 15th September 2007 that claimed 3 other lives, among them Colin's 5 year old son Johnny. The man was my idol when I still had rally-driving aspirations, taking my small 24HP weak Zastava 750 LE through twisties on local gravel roads. You'll never be forgotten, Colin, rest in peace!
A legend never dies... it only gets stronger with time...
The Pace Notes used here are actual pace notes from one of the rallyes Colin drove and that his copilot Nicky Grist narrated for him (I wrote them down while watching through the onboard camera). The stage was St. Wendel from Rally Deutschland in 2002. Everything's authentic, except fo the setting (in this fic it takes place on a gravel speacial stage, not tarmac) and the last directions (and finish).
SUMMARY: Dedicated to Colin McRae, the best rally driver of all times.
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Harm's hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. From the seat next to him he could hear Jen giving him instructions.
"Very long 6 left, and turn 4 left minus, and slow 3 right"
After decades of being a pilot and lawyer he'd decided to try something new for a change. Loving speed he'd finally found his niche: rally.
Not that puny, boring NASCAR where all they do is drive around in circles all day, where one can fall asleep beind the wheel or on the bleachers, nor Formula or those stupid touring cars, those are all for wimps and pussies.
Rally is for real men and, contrary to those other mentioned motorsport disciplines, you have to really know how to drive. Rally has THE best and most fearless drivers of all motorsport branches.
Harm executed a perfect power slide, the 300 BHP strong boxer engine of the extremely-souped-up blue Subaru Impreza WRX STi roared as it transferred the power to the wheels.
"and 6 left 200, right tightens to turn 2 plus, and hairpin left, and 6 right, 150"
The rough tires sprayed the gravel as the car accelerated out of the hairpin.
"left tightens to long 3 plus opens, 50, right narrows, and 3 left minus, 6 right straight 400"
Sweat was beading Harm's brow and he could feel drops sliding down his back as he grappled with the steering that was trying to tear itself out of his grip.
"and turn slow 4 left, into 3 right minus, into 6 left opens long 150, right tightens into 2, and finish"
Pulling forth all of his concentration Harm dedicated himself to the last few hundred meters of the stage, knowing the world is ironic and for many the rally had ended in view of the finish.
Then suddenly he was passing two small white boards with red clocks drawn on them. Harm let off the speed and rolled into a stop.
Then he just leaned back in his seat, endorphines pumping through his veins as he tasted the sweet taste of victory. A smile spread across his lips as he ran a hand through his sweating hair.
"Congratulations, great drive." he heard from the seat next to him as Jen gave him a congralutory hug. He returned the embrace with one hand.
"I'm thirsty, you want something to drink?"
Jen rose from the seat as Harm let go of the Force Feedback steering wheel, fastened to the desk.
He rose as well, following her into their kitchen. "No need, I'm coming with you anyway."
He glanced back at the computer, looking forward to the next stage.