Hill Racing - Egg drop!

📝 Special Statement

The tires bite into the gravel with a violent shudder, sending a spray of dirt against the underside of the chassis. You aren't just driving; you're performing a high-stakes balancing act at eighty miles per hour. Resting in a small, precariously placed spoon on the hood is a single white egg. It looks absurd, sitting there against the backdrop of a roaring engine and reinforced steel, but that fragile shell is currently the most important thing in your world. One wrong move, one over-eager twitch of the thumb on the accelerator, and it’s over. The yolk splatters, the engine dies, and the run is wasted.

The road ahead is a nightmare of rolling hills and sudden, jagged drops. You see a cluster of gold coins hovering just past the crest of a steep incline. Your instinct screams to floor it, to feel the raw power of the upgraded V8 kick in, but you know better. If you hit that peak too fast, the car will launch, the egg will catch air, and gravity will become your worst enemy on the descent. You feather the throttle instead. The car groans, fighting against the incline, the suspension whining as it absorbs the uneven terrain.

As the coins clink into your bank, the sound is a sweet contrast to the mechanical roar of the exhaust. Each one is a step toward something better. Maybe it’s the super-grip tires that will stop you from sliding out on the muddy stretches, or perhaps it's a more forgiving suspension system that turns a bone-jarring landing into a soft bounce. You’re eyeing that 4x4 monster truck body in the shop—it’s heavy, stable, and built for this kind of chaos.

The wind howls past the open windows, and the landscape blurs into a streak of green and brown. You’re pushing the limits now. The speedometer needle bounces erratically. You see a massive gap ahead—a bridge that washed out long ago. To clear it, you need momentum. To keep the egg, you need finesse. It’s a paradox wrapped in a death wish. You press down, feeling the back end of the car squat as it digs in for the sprint. The egg wobbles. You hold your breath, your knuckles white on the wheel, praying that the downforce keeps that fragile little cargo pinned to the spoon just long enough to clear the chasm.

Landing is a cacophony of metal hitting earth. The car bottoms out, sparks flying from the bumper, but the egg stays put. A momentary surge of adrenaline washes over you, but there’s no time to celebrate. The next level is already visible on the horizon, filled with loops, vertical climbs, and even more tempting riches. You check your coin count—almost enough for the turbocharger. One more perfect run. One more dance with disaster. You shift gears, eyes locked on the path, and let the engine scream.

📋 Instructions