She sat there . her aura all to familiar. Maybe someone had tried to recreate her into the legend that so many people knew? Maybe they tried to find a car that suited them? Either way, it didnt matter now. Her blue paint faded under the harsh Tokyo sun, and peeking through the window, I could make out her tendered soul. The seats were worn, and the rollcage was starting to push down into the unibody. God could only wonder how hard she had been driven. 150? 180? 200 miles per hour? I didnt know..
The car dealer came outside, brimming about her. He told me she had been a Wangan Terror, and was known from Tomei to Kujaku.. Was I supposed to believe him? His greasy hair, and sweaty hands made it look like she had been a reluctant purchase, and that he just wanted her off his lot. Even through her wind washed fenders, I could see the craftsmanship that had once been. Someone had really put alot of effort into her, and here she sat now, with the dealer throwing numbers at me