Kalvene, Latvia. A special stage only in name, designed by people clearly at odds with the concept of fun. I dragged – literally – a Peugeot 205 T16 Evo 2 through it, a relic of Group B, a category where every car is a coffin with a turbo, and every driver, a Darwin Award contender. Result: 408th out of 1397, meaning I beat over 989 people without really knowing how. Top 30%, which is like being the fastest of the slow – it looks good on paper, but still reeks of sweat and approximation. Official time: 2:02.748, with +15.908 seconds behind the leader. At that point, it’s not a gap, it’s a chronicle of time lost. Every second was bargained with panic, every corner a pact with absurdity. The car? Loyal like a beaten dog. Me? Present, if not useful. And in the end, Kalvene let me leave. Not out of respect. Out of indifference. Thröl Haartkor Mk IV – Ranking survivor, poet of lukewarm placements.