|
Maybe a death defying,
50s-style drag race at Dead Man's Curve will let you get your mind back
into a treasure-hunting way. Then again, maybe this plan will backfire
on you, and you'll wind up at the bottom of a rocky gorge wearing a
twisted metal hoopskirt. Right now, though, with one character from
Happy Days dead by your hand and another crying like a little boy with a
skinned knee, you're feeling optimistic about the future.
Fortunately, Arnold offers to give you a ride there, as he is ecstatic
about the idea of anyone drag racing through Dead Man's Curve; whenever
some kid brakes too late, his restaurant is filled to overflowing with
teens grieving over the loss of their friend and sucking down malts like
the filthy Americans that they are! Shortly after you share the idea
with him, he leaps up onto a table and announces to everyone that
there's going to be a big drag race at Dead Man's Curve. Cheers rise up
from the tables and booths from the people who thought you were cool
enough for killing that punk, Richie. Within moments, everyone empties
out of the restaurant and drives up to the site in question.
At the notoriously
deadly curve, several teens are already firing up their engines and are
waiting for you to hop in your sweet ride and start the show. You
regretfully inform them that you have no such ride, and cannot
participate. Luckily (at least according to the audience), one of the
attendees has a suitable car for you: one "Greased Lightening" that he
purchased from a man named Danny Zuko after he traded it in for a family
station wagon. Oh how the mighty have fallen.
A short time later, as you grip the steering wheel of the Greased
Lightening with sweaty palms, you wonder how you got yourself into this
situation. There's no time to waste, however, as your opponent is
already revving his engine. You shoot the cocky greaser an angry stare
and rev your engine accordingly. His girlfriend is standing just ahead
of your car, preparing to drop a handkerchief and signal the start of
the race. You put aside any misgivings you have about drag racing in
such a dangerous area, and prepare to floor it. Just then, you notice
that there's a third pedal next to your foot. Having never driven a car
with manual transmission, you look down and wonder what this pedal could
be for.
As you do, the ‘kerchief is dropped and the race begins. The greaser
takes off as you continue to ponder the mystery pedal. After a few
seconds of driving, he realizes that he's beating you by a wide margin.
He turns around to laugh at you, and in doing so, neglects his braking.
His car blasts through the guardrails and flies off the road, soaring
for a moment and then tearing through a nearby billboard before
plummeting to the rocks below.
The crowd's resounding "ooooh" at the spectacle brings you back to the
matter at hand. You realize that the race is over, and judging by the
wrecked billboard, that lousy punk "won." As you look on, the top of the
billboard collapses onto the bottom, obscuring the "Make friends with
Ovaltine!" message. At that point, you notice that the tattered remains
of the sign spell out something: Macon! That's it! The Popeye's Chicken
is in Macon, Georgia!
In the blink of an eye, you find yourself lying on the ground back in
the lunchbox museum. It's nighttime, and the janitor is prodding you
with his broom, telling you that it's closing time, but you can always
come back tomorrow. Screw that, you've got the knowledge you sought.
It's time to go to Macon.
Getting there, however,
will be all the more difficult, now that your van has been towed. You
really shouldn't have parked in that handicapped space, and then gotten
yourself sucked into an alternate Happy Days dimension. How are you
going to get to Macon now?
You decide to:
|
