

Map Name:	"White Trash County"

Map Design and Implementation: INT SuiCyco

Special Thanks: Ax-L, Bandit


Map Size: Ahhh.. Medium. About six squares.

Map Background: This map is designed for use in Bozzer's 
Team Intercept Tournament, "The All American White Trash 
Tournament"

For more Informatiom: Go to the Team Intercept Homepage; 
(http://www.intercept.org/)



Scenario Outline:

Dear Nancy-

	I don't know if this will reach you and the kids but if it 
does, please pray for me. It all started on the way back from that 
business trip with those mining executives in Texas. I was driving
along 114 when I noticed it was hot as all heck. Scorpions and cacti
looked like they were deep fried as I passed them on my way home 
to you. Just then the car started overheating so I decided to pull in
at the nearest gas station and let it sit for ahwile. After another 
hour or so of driving, finally, something appeared on the horizon.
"Gas Parade", a tent with gas station pumps all round it! It
was the strangest thing I'd ever seen. The pumps were rusted shut 
and told a sad tale of neglect and hard use in their former lives.
Anyway's, I decided to let the Cavera cool down and put myself to 
sleep for a bit.

	I woke up later that day, around 2:00PM I think... The car
had cooled down alright, but it wouldn't start! I opened up the
hood, but everyhing looked normal to me. And then I remebered
the readout from the dash. No gas! But that was impossible, I
had half a tank before I went to sleep, at least, I thought I did...

Well, anyways Nancy, to make a long story short I eventually got
up the nerve to leave the Cavera by the roadside and take a long 
walk till I could find the first hint of civilization. I spotted
a highway sign with the list of upcoming exits. The nearest one?
"White Trout County" And I wish I would have just walked an extra 
few miles to the next!

	I walked above an overpass and after a few miles of dirt 
roads I was in the heart of the.. town. Not ten seconds after passing
the local saloon was I greeted by Sherrif "Boz". He was a grimy, 
grungy man in his mid 40's with a 5 o'clock shadow. Truth was, 
Nancy, first time I saw this man, I thought he escaped from the 
local jail, not ran it! He must've known I was an out-of-towner,
because he got up real close, all the while chewing his tobacco,
and said to me "Heya Son, your in a heap of trouble now." "Why's 
that?" I replied, not having the slightest idea of what I'd done.
"Was that yer beat up Cavera outside of town, parked by the old
stay-shun?" "Yes," I replied "why do you ask?" He threw a grim
smile my way. "Wellllll.." he drawled out "I'm afraid that there
car of yers has been re-po-sessed." "WHAT?!!" I exlaimed "What
are you saying?!" He handled the situation quite cooly, Nancy,
as if he'd said it a hundred times before. "I don't suppose you
read the small sign on the side of the stay-shun now didja?" "No,"
I stated honestly "what sign?" He let out a small belch. "Burp.
The one that says tresspassins will not be tolerated, all persons
guilty of such shall be persecuted to the full extent of the
law." he continued "If you busy city folk took the time to
look at all them little signs you'd do a might better job of
handlin' yerselves out here in these parts." I scoffed "You can't
be serious!" Suddenly his tone grew very harsh "Confiscation of
yer vee-hic-le was only the first part, your coming with me
back to the deputy sheriff office, boy!" And with that, he sucker
punched me right in the bread box and hauled me off to the small
county sheriff office, and threw me in the small county cell.

	And there I sat till the next morning.

	I awoke to the very sudden and chilling feeling of a gallon 
of icy water hitting my face. "Yeeee haaa! Wake up, city slicker!"
"ahhhhh!" I screamed in shock more than anything else. And right
in front of my eyes was one of the ugliest texans I'd ever seen.
At least 7 feet tall with a 10 gallon hat, this would have to be
one of the Sheriff's relatives. "Uncle Boz told me to tell you
we might drop all them nasty charges against ya if you'll 
participate in the annual trucker tourney!" A ray of light at the
end of the tunnel! Could it be true? Tell me more. His mouth,
filled with the four largest buck teeth I can ever recall, spoke 
rapidly in a slurred fashion. "One of the boys was killed a few
weeks back in tractor pullin contest when a stump fell on his head
and we needed a fourth driver for the annual tournament and looks
like that'll havta be you!" Well that didn't sound too bad, "What
are the rules?" I inquired. He sat there for a few seconds, gathering 
his feeble intellect for an appropriate answer. "Hummmm none really.
Need a truck, we got sum extras in the back. Confiscated ones," he
said with a snicker. "Oh yeah, uncle Boz says ya'll can't have weapons 
that link no more, 'cept guns. Last time Gary brung a whole bunch of
those EZKill's, n' blew the Bar-D sky high! Uncle Boz wasn't too happy 
about that. He loved the Bar-D yup he sure did." 

	Guns, bombs? What in Sam Hill was going on? "What do you 
mean "guns?!" I exclaimed. "Dontcha hear 'bout them auto-vigilantes, 
it's the latest rage in these parts, strap a .50 cal on yer Moth n'
YEEEEEE HAWW!!!!" And now I made my one final request before the
tounament. They don't have phones out here, but they do have mail.
I hope this letter makes it's way to you before it's too late.

	Wish me luck honey, 
	and tell the chilren everything will be O.K.

	-Johnny