5) The Real AADA

Ladies and Gentlemen, first and foremost, should you need to know what the AADA is.

And now, for your entertainment and enlightenment, the true story behind number five.

5) Wil Wheaton started a real AADA, but had to disband it after simultaneously defeating all five other co-founders with nothing but a Radio Flyer wagon and a single flaming oil jet. To be fair to his competitors, I must point out that it was an HD flaming oil jet.

The year was 1990, and a young Wil Wheaton was bucking underneath his role in Star Trek. He needed someplace to vent his professional frustrations. The nights in his trailer reading gaming books and painting Skaven minis just weren't cutting it anymore. He was eighteen and rebelious. Glancing down at the latest Car Wars supplement, he realized he was also now old enough to drive and purchase firearms. He would use his growing Star Trek wealth to start a real life AADA.

He called up four of the AADA top performers and even used some of his celebrity pull to get Steve Jackson to play. They agreed that in one month, the would meet at the salt flats of Utah to have their first competition. Wil eagerly spent all time not filming constructing his car. Luxury. Heavy suspension. Turret mounted recoilless rifles. He even had the beverage cooler for what he hoped would be a post victory Doctor Pepper. It was a thing of beauty.

As the day drew closer and closer, Wil poured over the specs for his car, "The Dragon Lady." What if he got a weaker powerplant and more ammo for the machine guns? Should he sacrifice a little top armor to afford the weight for the ram plate? After all, no one had a helicopter. Dreams of inadequate armor or ineffective weapon systems haunted his sleep. His car existed in a perpetual state of modification. Still, he was never one hundred percent happy with the design.

The day came. Each of the six combatants prepared their cars in their corner of the makeshift hexagon arena. Wil paced circles around his car, filled with anxiety. It was all wrong. Everything was going wrong. They never specified and weight or price restriction. These cars could be severely unevenly matched. It looked like Steve was even driving a Superflash! Further, his order from Uncle Albert's* still hadn't come in, and the match was set to start soon. The anxiety escelated to panic. What was he thinking? He was only eighteen. He hadn't been driving nearly as long as these other guys. Two years driving and he'd never really even fired a gun before. What made him think he could stand up to these guys?

His nerves subsided a little when he saw the delivery truck arrive. Wil grabbed his little red wagon and darted across the arena to get the last of his equipment: a heavy duty flaming oil jet and an ejection seat. He may not win the day, but at least the ejector would ensure that he could escape before getting bashed up too badly.

Items in hand--or rather, on wagon--Wil began the trek across the arena back to his starting area, now at least a little less unsettled. Unfortunately, relief takes your guard down. While passing through the center of the combat zone, he unintentionally triggered the flare signaling the game to start. "No," said Wil.

Engines revved all around.

"No," he said again in disbelief. A panicked glance around confirmed what he already feared. The match had started and five rather fierce and heavily armed vehicles were charging relentlessly toward him.

"No!" Shouted Wil as he began to run. Faster and faster, his feet barely touching the ground as he raced to reach his car. "No, no, no, no, no!"

He was done for. He knew he would never make it to his car in time. He had body armor on, but that would only protect him for so long. This was it. He was going to die, young and fearful in a demise of his own design. Once he wanted to win, but now all he wanted was to get as far away as possible. "I can!" he realized. Quickly, he turned to the contents of his wagon and began rewiring in a desperate frenzy. If he could link the ejector to the HFOJ, he could make his escape and maybe even slow them down a little if they chose to pursue. True the flames wouldn't hurt the fireproof armor on Steve's car, but then at least he'd only have one car to deal with. His work finished, Wil dove into the ejection seat, fumbling with the straps as he prepared his last ditch effort.

His enemies were moments away. Six seconds. Five seconds.

"Gotta time this right, Wheaton."

Three seconds.

Wait for it.

Two seconds.

Wait for it.

One second.

"Now!"

Wil smashed the button and felt the g-forces pile on as his body was propelled into the air like a holiday firework. He tried to glance down, but the pressure from acceleration was too great. Even so, he heard the sound of tires squealing and then explosions. His plan had worked. Four of the cars barreling down at him had thought him an easy victory, never anticipating the difficulty they'd suddenly find in trying to manuever away around each other on a field of flaming oil. He was at the height of his escape.

He began his downward descent. He glanced down and saw four cars burning in a viscious twisted heap of wrought iron carnage. But where was Steve? His armor was fireproof. He should still be out there somewhere. Another glance removed any fear he may have had. "Steve," thought Wil, "your strength was your weakness."

There on the ground lay Steve Jackon's car, flipped, mangled, and several yards away from the burning wreckage. He had anticipated the flames; he had armor for that. What he had not anticipated, Wil realized, was that there would suddenly be four other cars blocking his path. In his Superflash, the high speed collision with a flaming wall must have sent his car flying out of control and out of the fight.

Even after Wil hit the ground and had helped the other combatants from their vehicles, the truth still hadn't sunk in. He had won. He had perhaps one of the greatest victories in autoduel history, be it board game or real life. He had won with no car and one of the most looked down upon weapons in the history of the game.

Wil breathed deep the sweet foul air of burning tires and smoldering dashboards. Without taking a single hit to his car, he had won. He had won.


*Uncle Albert's Auto Stop and Gunnery Shop was a Car Wars catalogue that contained new weapons and equipment players could use in their Car Wars games. However, if you actually send an order to the "made up" address with the secret phrase written in the box for special shipping instructions, they will send real items to you, as long as you actually sent real money with your order.

You have been informed.