Hello, author here. A disclaimer: I do NOT own Initial D. The characters in this story are purely works of fiction; any resemblance to any real person is merely a coincidence (doesn't apply to people like Keiichi Tsuchiya, heh). All actions involved in this story are purely fictional and are potentially dangerous in reality if you're inexperienced. Unless you're alone by yourself in the middle of nowhere, do NOT emulate them. I mean, I'm not saying that you can't do stuff like this, just take the care and responsibility to not endanger others.
On my phone, I scrolled through the pages of my browser, sitting on the asphalt and leaning against the guardrail, breathing in the cold, fresh mountain air Akina provided.
"Automotive technology surges forward as car manufacturers scramble for self-driving technology."
"Tesla Motors leading in electric self-driving car craze."
"Countries worldwide have implemented bans on petrol cars, and human driving is next: all you need to know for the future."
Sigh…
Feeling that I've had enough with my break, I put away my phone and stood up. Taking out my car's key, I walked towards my green 1979 Mazda RX-7, otherwise known as the SA, parked in front of me at the stopping point near the peak of the mountain. Unlocking the doors, I got in.
Shutting the door, I pulled out the choke, put the key in the ignition and turned it.
The carbureted Mazda 12A underneath the hood came to life within 2 seconds, and I proceeded to slowly push in the choke. Well, of course it started this quickly; it wasn't exactly a cold start to begin with.
Done with the choke, I rested back in my seat and waited for her to get up to temperature. It wouldn't take a long while, especially since the engine wasn't that cold.
My name is Adachi Narahiko, 19 years old. Born 2000, love cars since I was a kid and a car enthusiast since I was 12. I only got my license last year, but I've worked on and practically owned a car since I was 15.
The engine was now up to temperature.
"Let's go, SA."
Buckling up, I turned on my headlights, the flip headlights working as they should as their yellowish beams shone forward.
Moving into first gear, I drove out of the stopping point and started to head downhill.
I stepped down the gas pedal, bringing the tachometer's needle up to the redline before shifting up. This went on till I hit my 4th gear; that's when the first corner of the downhill was ahead of me.
Approaching it, I braked appropriately, heel-toe downshifted back to second and brought the car towards the apex, feeling the thrill of fast, hard cornering rush over me as I made sure not to lose grip.
Lightly stepping on the gas, I felt the car slightly oversteer. This is the side effect of welding my differential shut; the car gains acceleration on the straights, but slightly suffers at corners as both rear wheels are forced to turn at the same speed. As long as I give her a bit of gas, SA would be fine.
As soon as I cleared the apex, I stepped down on the throttle, accelerating out of the corner.
Not too shabby, but not that great either.
Remembering the speed bump ahead, I stepped on the brakes, slowing the car down enough to safely clear the bumper.
As she went over the hump, I sighed.
Did I mention that I genuinely feel that I'm born in the wrong era?
As soon as I cleared it, I sped up again, the 12A screaming at 7,000 RPM again. The SA may not be fast, but it's fun as hell to drive.
As a kid, I was always fascinated with cars, but they were typically cars of the same age as I was, with one or two exceptions like the Ferrari F40. It was only when I was 12 when I really began to develop a strong, long-lasting proper love for cars from the 90s and before, and that was also along the time I discovered Felix Wankel and his creation; the Wankel rotary engine. From that point on, I was hooked onto the RX-7, and I gained a particular love for the first generation RX7, otherwise known as the SA or FB.
When I was 13, the 60-year-old old boss of a nearby automotive repair shop took a risk to properly teaching me the mechanical and electrical aspects of a car during working hours after I was dismissed from school one day and was eyeing his green SA, which had its apex seals blown some time ago and damaging the housings, parked outside his workshop. Him and I discovered that I had a knack for working on vehicles, and I learnt how to change the engine oil of a car within a week. Then it was the changing of spark plugs, replacing the brakes, suspension replacement, repair of electrical components, and the list goes on. By the time I was 14, I was able to repair a car myself, and I have gained a friendship with Mr Yoshikawa by then. Over the next year, even with his health failing a bit, he introduced me to tuning, which cemented my love for older cars and created the "automotive philosophy" I have now.
Whoops, botched it, I thought back in reality as I did not slow down enough to clear a corner properly, unable to get inside. Luckily, I did not smack the outside guardrail.
I've always joked to him about how I wanted to buy his SA from him while he would also jokingly reply that he will be the owner of the car until the day he died. I was jesting, but deep down I had a real interest in his RX-7. One day, when I was 15, he told me that I can finally help repair his car the next day, and I could clearly remember not being able to sleep that night out of excitement.
The next day after school, I walked over to the workshop, eager to finally be able to work on Mr Yoshikawa's rotary-powered sports car. But that never happened that day, for he had died a few hours ago because some idiot had beaten the red light at a hundred kilometers an hour and rammed into him. For the whole week, I was depressed over the loss of someone who had became an uncle figure to me, and the SA was naturally pushed to the back of my mind during that period.
After his funeral, his will surfaced to public eye, and I was greatly surprised at what was written on it. Being a single man, almost all his possessions and assets were given to his younger brother, who also shared his knack for cars and was by all means a good man. What was most surprising was the allocation of his SA; it was slated to become my possession the day I earned my driving license while the younger Yoshikawa would have it under his name till then; in other words, it was given to me. With the encouragement of the younger brother, I began to fix up the SA on my own over the next 3 years, and after the long, hard work of saving up for new parts and physically working on the car, on my 18th birthday, the SA came to life after 5 years of silence. That was, of course, the proudest day of my life. A short few months later, I earned my Class 1 license, and on that same day, after all the necessary paperwork, I officially received ownership of Mr Yoshikawa's 1979 Mazda RX-7.
Back in the present, I slowed down again for another one of the many humps installed in Akina, probably a decade ago. I sighed again. The SA, no matter how fun it was for me to drive, still wasn't helping get rid of my worries.
So, what has my past got to do with my worries? Well, I'll explain.
The accident that got Mr Yoshikawa killed would usually make someone my age start a hate for driving. Not me; the accident had made me hate idiotic drivers instead. You know, those drivers. Texting while driving, not watching the road in general, can't tell the difference between the accelerator and brake pedal etc etc etc. These people have tainted driving to the point where everyone wants self-driving cars to make human driving illegal, and that does not sit well with me at all. Why do the minority of the world's drivers decide our future? Why does nobody focus on the virtues of driving instead of looking at how many car-related accidents and deaths are there? I may sound insensitive, but in my opinion, people die every day; a few car accidents that make up less than 1% of daily driving is not an issue at all.
I know I'm not exactly in the correct position to judge as I currently clear a right corner while hitting the apex and driving on the wrong side of the road, but I only do this in the middle of the night, when people are at home sleeping. For the one year I've came to Akina to drive like this every night/early morning, I've literally only encountered at most one car a month. If my SA's brakes failed and I plunge down a cliff, I'm only taking myself down with it; I won't harm anyone else.
I slowed down again for yet another hump, and this time my annoyance grew into frustration. Approaching the second straightaway of the pass after a gentle right turn, I floored it all the way, venting my frustration as my SA screamed at the high RPM I was driving at.
Then there's electric cars; for all that environmental preaching, everyone forgot that ethanol exists as a biofuel. An octane level higher that the highest possible octane level of pump gas but with 20 to 30 percent lesser range, this is more than suitable as an alternative that combines the best of both worlds. But no, with the onset of the electric craze, everyone's only concerned about making the entire car population fully-electric. Both this and self-driving technology have absolutely no care about enthusiasts like me; they may all be moving in a good direction, but what they're doing wrong is by thinking in absolutes.
At fifth gear, finding the correct place to slow down, I hit the brakes and downshifted to 2nd gear in order to clear the left hairpin ahead of me. I did not speed up again, however, since at the end of the hairpin was yet another speed bump.
I knew Mount Akina's famous 5 hairpins were ahead after the lazy right, left then right corners, and I knew that thankfully there were no humps installed yet. I can drive at my maximum again.
I don't care if electric and self-driving cars start to exist; in fact, I would be happy because lesser idiots will be behind the wheel. But I am not happy with the fact that drivers and all other cars are going to be forced off the roads just because the technology exist. It does not make sense! As someone whose everything is with cars, this is a direct hit to me! What's more heart-wrenching is the fact that opposition is and has been written off as outdated opinions and I wouldn't be able to do anything to stop the death of the cars I love, especially my SA. All of us enthusiasts and drivers are going to be forced to give up our passions just because some idiot doesn't know how to drive while another thinks that electric cars should be the only cars on the road.
Unfortunately for someone like me, I was born in the wrong time.
I'm really born in the wrong era, huh.
The first hairpin was right ahead of me. Feeling cheeky, instead of the usual grip cornering I drive with, I drifted through the corner, the SA's rear wheels squealing.
I smirked. That was fun.
Wasn't there a famous driver born from driving down Akina? I thought as I screeched through the second corner. I heard that from my friends, but is that really true?
Ah, no matter. I'll concentrate on my driving.
Beaming in joy, I drifted through the third hairpin, finally feeling my frustrations temporarily wash off.
I feel like I'm born to drive.
With the same amount of enthusiasm, I cleared the fourth and fifth hairpins.
"That was fun!" I commented out loud, with only my SA to hear me. Until the last corner, there wouldn't be any speed bumps anymore, so I decided to go all-out with my typical grip driving.
The RX-7 rushed through the remaining corners, the 40-year-old rotary engine screaming at 9,000 RPM throughout each corner. This time however, it wasn't the screams of frustration; it was the screams of excitement and passion. I can feel everything my car felt; this is the feeling I love and lust for everyday, being able to bond with your own car like this.
A car is not necessarily just a tool for transportation as everyone else thinks; in fact, my SA is not like that at all. It is a companion that can have a two-way understanding with you, and when done right, they can be like an extension of your body. Internal combustion engine cars are the best for that; they virtually have live, beating hearts. They're all alive.
I just wish…
I just wish I could drive like this for as long as I want.
Man, I wish I was back in the 90s.
As I cleared the second last corner, the road widened into a three-lane. I took the new rightmost lane, in anticipation of the corner.
Using my feelings to judge, I braked and sent the SA into a drift, bringing her into the apex and clearing it at 70 kmh.
Hey, isn't there a hump around- oh God, no!
I instinctively hit the brakes, knowing that I've seriously botched it.
I shut my eyes, knowing what was to come. The SA would fly up the speed bump and crash, either severely damaging herself or getting me injured or killed in the process.
This was all my fault.
I wasn't careful.
After a few seconds, after feeling nothing, I opened my eyes, my fear replaced with confusion.
The SA sat in the middle of the road, sideways but completely unharmed.
"Wait, what?"
I looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But I knew I should have hit that speed bump.
Unbuckling my seat belt and getting out, I looked back at the corner.
There were some tire marks left from my little stunt, but everything seemed normal…
… other than the fact that there was no speed bump at all.
Hey, where the hell did it go? I passed it when I went uphill earlier today, there is no way it would have disappeared!
… That's really weird. Can a hump be removed that quickly by roadworks workers?
Weirded-out, I went back into the SA, deciding to call it a night.
I checked the car's clock. 12:02 am.
Yep, about time I head back.
Satisfied with my spirited driving, I put the car into gear and drove off normally, finishing the rest of the downhill.
Everything looked normal, just like usual. But something felt off. I couldn't find any evidence, but I could clearly feel it, and it was unsettling me.
I pulled into a parking lot at the carpark at the foot of the mountain, rear wheels squeaking as I made the tight turn, a side effect of a welded differential. Pulling the handbrake, I pulled out my phone, wanting to browse Facebook for a while as I let me and my car cool down. No service.
"Weird…"
Putting it back, I decided to wait for a while, looking at my surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least from here.
Once I felt cool enough, I drove out of the carpark and away from Akina, heading home.
As I looked around the empty streets, I realized that something was definitely wrong; I don't recognize a quarter of these buildings.
What the hell?
Driving down a once-familiar street, I stopped in front of where my apartment building should be, shocked.
That's not a building I recognize.
That's it.
"What… what the hell's going on?!"