What better place to start a new adventure. Inside, there's wood to be chopped and an axe to chop it - all of a sudden that phonecall I got back home from an irate Finnish man asking for delivery of some logs makes a lot more sense - but before I get to work and earn some money that can be spent upgrading my car, what about that bottle of mysterious booze that's sitting in the corner? Down it goes in one gulp, and my legs begin to buckle underneath me. Starting up a new game and getting slightly fed up of finding out exactly where the fan belt is sitting in my mess of a garage, I go for a short stroll through the woods to find a little farmhouse where a tractor and van sit beside a rickety workhouse.
![worldtimes in my summer car for mcedditer worldtimes in my summer car for mcedditer](https://staticdelivery.nexusmods.com/mods/2600/images/thumbnails/1947/1947-1656013155-2130522358.png)
My heroics in My Summer Car, though, have been a little less spectacular. Thanks to the ability to import a photo for your own in-game driving licence in My Summer Car, I've been roleplaying as Keke Rosberg circa 1984 - at the point when the Finnish legend was still chain-smoking cigarettes before strapping himself into 1000bhp turbo bastards and setting laps with an ungodly average speed of 160mph. Every car's a shitbox, but what playful and enjoyable shitboxes they are. My Summer Car's handling is perhaps not so surprisingly very adept, with a little of BeamNGDrive in its bouncy pliable physics. There's another side to My Summer Car, though, that I excel at the part where it becomes Redneck Finnish Man Simulator, and a side of the game that's stuffed with just as much depth and detail. Making cars is hard, and while I appreciate the depth and detail that's offered in My Summer Car's lavish car building - a side of it that's a savagely difficult hybrid of the brilliant Jalopy and Car Mechanic Simulator - I'm absolutely useless when it comes to the literal nuts and bolts of building a rustbucket. I've not managed that myself, just yet at least. Bolts must be tightened, parts must be put in place and there's a sense of overwhelming joy and achievement just to get the engine idling over. My Summer Car is, one level, a maddening Lego set where the instruction booklet has long been tossed away and the blocks have been chewed to pieces by a lovable but mangy family dog. The front strut of my special project car was sitting somewhere amidst a nest of loose pistons, I'd lost the fuel line and while trying to fit a subwoofer in the back the front fender popped off of its own accord.
![worldtimes in my summer car for mcedditer worldtimes in my summer car for mcedditer](https://photos.zillowstatic.com/fp/3f074dbd6856cc68ec93b35bd419fcbc-cc_ft_576.jpg)
Back home, everything was in an absolute state. Nico, how on Earth did you turn out so dull when your dad was so cool? I've rocketed headfirst through the windscreen before I'm able to get both hands back on the wheel, wiping all the progress I'd made. Reaching down to tune out of the scratchy Finnish pop station I've been listening to the past 20 minutes, I look up too late to see it bearing down on me in what's set to be an unavoidable head-on collision. A short while later, I think the family gets its revenge. I pick a bottle of beer from the crate that's sitting by my side and take a thirsty glug, flipping the bird at a family sedan. I'm quite possibly about to die of hunger, but I'm not that fussed. My vacuum-packed sausages have just made a bid for freedom somewhere along the main road where I'm hurtling along in excess of 60km/h, wriggling their way free of the passenger seat and flinging themselves out of the open door and into the Finnish wilds.