It has once been told that an ice white demon must have existed, over a thousand years ago in the emerald forests of Nirvana. Generations later, the soul of the demon has been exorcised into this 88 FC3S, and I shall be its master!
Fighting Exterior means business. Hitting objects OK!
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The belly of the beast!: no driver’s side carpet and steering wheel with broken leather for sliced-finger glory.
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Custom boxed beam.
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Try to tame this beast! It’s got manual steering, the alignment is off, and the chassis is missing many parts here and there. The fumes rise and influence the comfort of slumber, but one cannot sleep.
For some reason, this demon wields a blisteringly aggressive turn-in that only the likes of few have had the chance to see. Enter hell at full speed, brake as hard as possible, and turn, but just a bit… the beast will carry you around until your future is blurred. Then, when death approaches, take control of the reins and bring yourself back to earth.
That’s what it’s like to drive this FC. Prepare yourself, for destruction approaches.
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