10 hours, 700+ miles.
Cranking along.
Swoop is ON! My Vintage/RTT Thread
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unt0uchable
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Bimmerguy2002
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Mark 88/M5 Houston
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rmiddendorf
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Those are GREAT pics, Rodney! Thank you!rmiddendorf wrote:I'm just getting my stuff together... but here's a few!
p.s. The '2' and '4' are for 2400 miles. This pic was taken after I arrived at the Hawthorne.
It's a little bit of both, but I didn't realize I was THAT much taller than Matt...davintosh wrote:^^^^ Judging by that ^^^^^ photo, either you are really tall or the other guy is really short. You don't look that tall in your avatar.
And an 80mph average is nothing to sneeze at.I'm usually really happy if I can get a 50 average when traveling with the family.
(I'm 6'4")... and the pace was nice. I had a good start, and things just kept going right. I was paying cash for gas, so I was RUNNING to and from the registers at gas stops. If it wasn't for all of the construction, I would have really been jamming HARD. I probably would have broken 11 hours. Also, that storm was probably the best thing that could have happened, there was NO WAY I could step up the pace like that after 17 hours already on the road. It takes a lot out of you.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. The novel/trip report is in work.
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Ted in T.O.
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My take on this is they were looking for a two four of Canadian beer to celebrate his arrival.ldsbeaker wrote:Those are GREAT pics, Rodney! Thank you!rmiddendorf wrote:I'm just getting my stuff together... but here's a few!
p.s. The '2' and '4' are for 2400 miles. This pic was taken after I arrived at the Hawthorne.
18 consecutive hours isn't that bad, I've done it on a motorcycle. The 5000 miles over a week is madness.Pavel wrote:^ awesome photo! I will be going through all the pictures tomorrow, videos, Tail of The Dragon sites. Amazing 8 days on the road!
Adam, idk how you drove 18 hrs to Sherman's house last week...
Do I seem mentally unstable?dolomiti wrote:18 consecutive hours isn't that bad, I've done it on a motorcycle. The 5000 miles over a week is madness.Pavel wrote:^ awesome photo! I will be going through all the pictures tomorrow, videos, Tail of The Dragon sites. Amazing 8 days on the road!
Adam, idk how you drove 18 hrs to Sherman's house last week...
There was definitely a purpose, and a supreme sense of accomplishment upon completion. However, I feel that I could have done better.
Actually, i do feel a little bit different this week compared to before the trip. It may take some time to realize exactly what happened during the 5000+ miles. If I do the math, then i spent a minimum of HALF of the 8 days driving. 4 entire days worth of time driving. *shudder*
yes, but it's not related to the BMW Odyssey from last weekldsbeaker wrote:Do I seem mentally unstable?dolomiti wrote:18 consecutive hours isn't that bad, I've done it on a motorcycle. The 5000 miles over a week is madness.Pavel wrote:^ awesome photo! I will be going through all the pictures tomorrow, videos, Tail of The Dragon sites. Amazing 8 days on the road!
Adam, idk how you drove 18 hrs to Sherman's house last week...
I'm going to need some tunes to wash down the drive report with. I think I can safely say that ///Marine and I would like to get a tracklist from you...ldsbeaker wrote: But I'm getting ahead of myself. The novel/trip report is in work.
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unt0uchable
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Mark in Toronto
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Trip Report - Part 1
Let’s start a couple weeks back. I have my car in super secret squirrel deep freeze storage (SSSDFS) at present. So, every week or so since March, I have used my lunch break to take one of the cars from storage over the pass and through the desert for some exercise. Just a basic shakedown run and see how the cars handle the heat and load. I brought the car back a couple weeks ago, and noticed a puddle under the car. Hrrmmmm. I thought nothing of it, didn’t even check to see what it was, just attributed it to coolant from the overflow. After two weeks and two puddles, I checked the fluid, and it appears to be brake fluid. Also, I got the “springboard” effect on the brake pedal, and the “BRAKE” light on startup once. Double Hrrrmmmmm. So I texted Kohler and opined that it may be the clutch slave cylinder going out, or something, since the puddle seemed to be in that area. Upon closer inspection, it’s dripping from the frame rail, but I cannot find the origin. Weird. So, being a sane and superstitious individual, I choose to IGNORE it, and not bring it up again. The car has been acting fine, really. I’m only going to be stressing the brakes out on the Dragon and various other insane twisties in the hollers and hoots of West Virgina (2000+ miles away), what could go wrong? So, game time is coming closer and closer. Let me also add that I have pretty okay stamina when it comes to the swoop, but there have been some notable times when I didn’t have my mental game going, and a mere 12 hours or so did me in. My wife would just smile, tell me I was wimping out, and maybe I was getting too old to do the hard drives any more.
(CHALLENGE ACCEPTED)
May 21st
I’m up at 2am, I just cannot sleep. I have a narrator gig today and flub a few more times than I should. I am really stressed and excited about getting on the road. It was one of THOSE days at work. I REALLY need to get some sleep today, but I also need to pack and do some more mental preparation. I go over my route and steel myself for a LONG Wednesday.
May 22nd, Invasion Day.
(Yuma, AZ - Cypress, TX; 1300 miles)
Up at 2am AGAIN, but I can’t do anything until 6, when SSSDFS opens up. I spend some quality time in the garage. My garage actually looks nice and semi-organized; perfect since I’ll be gone for 8 days. So, I have the ix packed and jet over to SSSDFS to pack the 528i and then I’m out at 0615.
Things start off well, and I make some pretty good time, but I’m still not completely familiar with the car, so I’m taking it semi-easy. My gas stops migrate a little bit. Kohler said I shouldn’t go below 20l on the trip, and it’s good advice. Arizona – gone. New Mexico – gone. It takes me 7 hours, but I get to Texas. I have never made the trip across Texas on I-10. Plenty of times on I-40 through the skinny part, but never the long way. When Chris brought the car to AZ, he took I-20, and said how boring West Texas was. The car has a kick ass stereo, but there’s only so far that radio reception is decent. My hint was the first sign I saw in Texas. El Paso – 40 Beaumont – 853. I think it’s just Texas’ way of saying, “Yeah, the LAST city in Texas on this stretch of road is farther away than any other stretch in the contiguous 48. So THERE, ya’ll!!” The weather is beautiful, and so is the scenery. It’s amazing to see brown turn into camouflage, turn into green in the daylight between sunrise and sunset. Everything’s going right.
Let me describe “right”, for a moment. When I’m in “swoop” mode, there is no stopping for anything but gas. All other functions must get accomplished in that stop. Food, Bio-break, etc. In order to keep the pace average up, there have to be as few “zero mph” moments as possible. Seems logical, but it is difficult even with a crowd of one. I pass everything that moves. Right lane, left lane, whatever. I try to stay in the right lane, unless passing, as is the proper way of driving. (Even if I am passing everything) You will get out of my way, and I don’t want to see you again. I am a lone wolf, and don’t want to follow anyone. Someone may follow me, but I will not wait up. I want to have as little contact with each driver/car as possible. The radar detector is on full volume, and I am constantly scanning for “danger areas” where police may hide. There is a lot going on, but the miles fly by.
I’m checking in with Clint and Sherman, telling them I expect to get into Houston at midnight. Then it hits me. Time zones. Crap. Yeah, I’ll be getting into Houston at midnight… Yuma Time. Two Hours BEHIND Houston, Texas time. (sigh) Oops. So, the sun is starting to go down, and I get some more bad news from Clint. After San Antonio, the hills are alive with DEER. I’m not scared of much, but hitting a deer in such a beautiful, original car is definitely NOT in my plan (inevitable anyway…). On cue, I look up, and there’s a deer taking a tentative step from the breakdown lane to the travel lane that I am bombing down. Gulp. Tragedy avoided, but it has broken my concentration and my courage. Just. Like. That. It’s dark, I’ve been on the road for over 12 hours, Texas is just about making me tap out, and a deer just said hello. The loud pedal is no longer my friend, and I can’t bomb through the night by myself anymore. I pick any car that will pass me, and hang out on their bumper for as long as they are going fast. Probably pretty annoying, but I don’t care; I have AZ tags on a furrin car in Texas. Par for the course, right? Those last couple hours go okay, but it obviously take longer to cover the miles. I do great for 16 hours. Then I yawn twice. The 17th hour is brutal. I’m slapping myself, stomping feet, trying to get into the music, windows down, ANYTHING to stay awake. FINALLY, I arrive in the greater Houston area, but I have a 20 minute commute from the highway to Sherman’s house to navigate, too. Stop lights, other questionable cars, and unfamiliar lane patterns are all working against me. I get to Sherman’s house (18 hours exactly), and he’s actually working outside, too. Amazing. Guess I’m not the only one who had last minute stuff to do. He invites me in, I shower, and bomb out. Only a few hours till leg two.
Arizona at Sunrise:
1st gas stop, Chris, you must have read my mind...
Arizona - Done
Dave, I was thinking about you
New Mexico - Done
Despite the boredom, I really appreciate open road.
I couldn't believe they are polluting those beautiful buttes with windmills. Dang BLM has no shame!
Full attack mode in the cockpit.
Keep it above 20l...
May 23rd,
(Cypress, TX – Chattanooga, TN; 850 miles)
I’m up a little bit more than 4 hours later, shower again to wake myself up, take my allergy pill since I know I’m getting into green country again, and we saddle up. Ha! I even call my insurance company and take my car out of “storage” protection. Ooops. Now that I’m fully covered and only doing daytime driving for the next 5 days, I’m golden! We head off to a McDonald’s near I-10, and pick up 3 other cars.
The other guys take the hell off and start dancing through traffic. They are having a blast, and there’s no hope of keeping together. I’m just not ready to drive like that. Thankfully, the cops don’t get called to investigate the BMW caravan, and things quiet down after about two hours. It takes those two hours to get out of Texas. For those of you keeping score, that’s 13 hours at a decent pace to cross Texas on I-10, if you want to try to tackle it in one day. No, thank you. We’re headed for Winfred’s shop in Baton Rouge. Somehow I miss a turn, but still end up being the first to arrive at the shop. Thank you, iPhone maps. It is HOOMID outside! Gosh! It’s amazing how quickly you get accustomed to a new climate. We yak for a bit, look at some cars, check out the showroom, then decide to get a bite to eat. Clint and I get left by the M5s and Winfred’s 6er, and when we finally find the M5s again, they are pulled up to a Mom and Pop burger joint, next to a State Trooper car. They are just shooting the breeze, and no shenanigans. Whew! We’re yakking over food, and I find out that Clint’s girlfriend, (Who, I must add, is beautiful. Brave as hell, too. She couldn’t have possibly known what kind of characters she was going to run in to, what the drive was going to be like, and most of all, what kind of sausage fest she was going to arrive at.) drives a BMW. I pepper her with questions to see what kind of BMW owner she is. Clint steps in as legal counsel right before I can ask her what size the engine is. We all get a good laugh, I realize that I was being rude, and squeeze one more question in before we take off. Ha! Also, I was talking to Winfred, and we get talking about Air Conditioning. Yes, he can check it out and service it, if I have an hour. The other guys gang up on me and tell me that 1) They will not wait for me. (Fine.) 2) I am obligated to suffer like they are in their non-AC cars (Debatable.) 3) If I get my AC fixed, they will pull a “Jeremy Clarkson” and sabotage my AC at the earliest opportunity. (Hilarious.) I was VERY tempted to get it fixed anyway, but the car was doing great, and I had already realized that we were going to arrive in Chattanooga late. I was not willing to add an hour to my day after 3 consecutive nights with 4 hours of sleep apiece. We leave Baton Rouge and finally start heading north. More driving, blah blah. I’m tired. Huh. The sun starts to go down, and it’s about dinner time. We’ve had our lights on for safety just about the whole time, but, of course, near sunset, my headlight will NOT stay on. Well, it turns out that the wiring that was bodged together by Los Federales to put the US lights on had some questionable connections. Just moving the wires around and making sure they didn’t move was good enough, but I replaced the bulbs anyway. Lights on the rest of the trip. We arrive at Chattanooga and get some much needed rest. I think I got about 5 hours of sleep that night. An improvement.
Leaving Sherman's BMW Emporium
Start of the Caravan from Houston.
May 24th
Chattanooga, TN – Winston-Salem, NC; 450 miles (The long way, with a stop at The Tail of The Dragon)
As we were eating breakfast, we got word that LJ and company were finally going to make it in from Nebraska and other points west. They arrived and we all went outside to greet them. LJ looked like a zombie, I mean, he was literally zombie grey. He was still shaking the car down after a few all nighters, and it showed. They made their manners, then quickly hit the rack while we were going to be screwing around adding “unnecessary” miles to our trip.
We get a decent start in the morning and dip right into two lane roads. I was leading for some reason, and when the roads got twisty, I grasped the folly of my actions. Sherman was hot on my tail, outgunning my tall sidewall, B28 engined car. I let the other three cars by and doodled my way to the Dragon. As we got closer, the roads looked so familiar even though I hadn’t been since ’05. Wow. Fun stuff. We get some souvenirs and chow at the base of the Dragon. Then Sherman decides he’s NOT going to run the Dragon. (!!) I tell Sherman that we’ll be back in less than an hour, and ask Clint and Pavel if they want to lead. Nope. Okaaayyy… It was awesome. I kept seeing the Killboy cars, and a state trooper or two. We got to the other end, then Clint let Karen drive. We went back and got held up by some motorcycles (???). I was in their space a little bit, but they played it really cool. It was a lot of work to drive the car in a sporty way, but it was very fulfilling. We collected Sherman, got some expensive gas (it was $.50 more expensive, but I was ready to get to the hotel, and didn’t want to stop again; those Zero MPH moments were adding up), and began the final leg to The Hawthorne. Drive, blah blah…
What a view!
Quite a line up
Jokers
We FINALLY arrive at the Hawthorne, and it’s about 6 PM. The place was hopping, and there were no parking spots in the big open “cool” section. I said hi to a few people, checked in, then threw my manners out the window and took my car to the wash pit for some much needed attention. 2400 miles of bugs and road grime… My car was no longer white. Gross. Some people came and said hi, but I didn’t stop washing the car. Sorry if I offended you. You know I’m not a super crazy neat freak, but the car was disgusting. Meanwhile, I have my phone in the car charging, and it was ringing off the hook. So was Andy’s, and Paul’s. Turns out the hotel is looking for me. Hmmmmm. Finally, I make my way over to the front desk and have a good laugh with the hotel people. They saw me turn the corner and the look of relief on their faces was comic. I did an about face and disappeared around the corner again. “We saw you, Mr. Armour!! Ha!” Turns out they gave me a key to an already occupied room. There was a whole busload of old people that showed up around the same time I did, so I can only imagine what I could have walked in to. *shudder* I walk around some more, visit with old friends, get a great parking spot under that huge tree, and wind down. Matt delivers my Zender front airdam. The tuning hat trick of wheels and airdams is COMPLETE!! Orlando and I go to Hooters for dinner. I deliver a sport steering wheel and his ‘Rollin’ Red’ Sign. We’re making plans for the next morning, and I tell Orlando that I will NOT be doing the Rally. I talk to some other people that I planned to caravan with to the meet, and they are all going on the rally, so I cave and agree. It will be about five of us… I talk guns with Brayne, then almost get drunk on Skip’s moonshine/lightning breath. Wow. That stuff smelled mighty fine, but the whole LDS vs. Alcohol thing… yeah. I think I still manage to get to bed by midnight, AND I get to sleep in tomorrow morning. All the way to 630 or 7!! Yeehaw!
More to come...
Let’s start a couple weeks back. I have my car in super secret squirrel deep freeze storage (SSSDFS) at present. So, every week or so since March, I have used my lunch break to take one of the cars from storage over the pass and through the desert for some exercise. Just a basic shakedown run and see how the cars handle the heat and load. I brought the car back a couple weeks ago, and noticed a puddle under the car. Hrrmmmm. I thought nothing of it, didn’t even check to see what it was, just attributed it to coolant from the overflow. After two weeks and two puddles, I checked the fluid, and it appears to be brake fluid. Also, I got the “springboard” effect on the brake pedal, and the “BRAKE” light on startup once. Double Hrrrmmmmm. So I texted Kohler and opined that it may be the clutch slave cylinder going out, or something, since the puddle seemed to be in that area. Upon closer inspection, it’s dripping from the frame rail, but I cannot find the origin. Weird. So, being a sane and superstitious individual, I choose to IGNORE it, and not bring it up again. The car has been acting fine, really. I’m only going to be stressing the brakes out on the Dragon and various other insane twisties in the hollers and hoots of West Virgina (2000+ miles away), what could go wrong? So, game time is coming closer and closer. Let me also add that I have pretty okay stamina when it comes to the swoop, but there have been some notable times when I didn’t have my mental game going, and a mere 12 hours or so did me in. My wife would just smile, tell me I was wimping out, and maybe I was getting too old to do the hard drives any more.
(CHALLENGE ACCEPTED)
May 21st
I’m up at 2am, I just cannot sleep. I have a narrator gig today and flub a few more times than I should. I am really stressed and excited about getting on the road. It was one of THOSE days at work. I REALLY need to get some sleep today, but I also need to pack and do some more mental preparation. I go over my route and steel myself for a LONG Wednesday.
May 22nd, Invasion Day.
(Yuma, AZ - Cypress, TX; 1300 miles)
Up at 2am AGAIN, but I can’t do anything until 6, when SSSDFS opens up. I spend some quality time in the garage. My garage actually looks nice and semi-organized; perfect since I’ll be gone for 8 days. So, I have the ix packed and jet over to SSSDFS to pack the 528i and then I’m out at 0615.
Things start off well, and I make some pretty good time, but I’m still not completely familiar with the car, so I’m taking it semi-easy. My gas stops migrate a little bit. Kohler said I shouldn’t go below 20l on the trip, and it’s good advice. Arizona – gone. New Mexico – gone. It takes me 7 hours, but I get to Texas. I have never made the trip across Texas on I-10. Plenty of times on I-40 through the skinny part, but never the long way. When Chris brought the car to AZ, he took I-20, and said how boring West Texas was. The car has a kick ass stereo, but there’s only so far that radio reception is decent. My hint was the first sign I saw in Texas. El Paso – 40 Beaumont – 853. I think it’s just Texas’ way of saying, “Yeah, the LAST city in Texas on this stretch of road is farther away than any other stretch in the contiguous 48. So THERE, ya’ll!!” The weather is beautiful, and so is the scenery. It’s amazing to see brown turn into camouflage, turn into green in the daylight between sunrise and sunset. Everything’s going right.
Let me describe “right”, for a moment. When I’m in “swoop” mode, there is no stopping for anything but gas. All other functions must get accomplished in that stop. Food, Bio-break, etc. In order to keep the pace average up, there have to be as few “zero mph” moments as possible. Seems logical, but it is difficult even with a crowd of one. I pass everything that moves. Right lane, left lane, whatever. I try to stay in the right lane, unless passing, as is the proper way of driving. (Even if I am passing everything) You will get out of my way, and I don’t want to see you again. I am a lone wolf, and don’t want to follow anyone. Someone may follow me, but I will not wait up. I want to have as little contact with each driver/car as possible. The radar detector is on full volume, and I am constantly scanning for “danger areas” where police may hide. There is a lot going on, but the miles fly by.
I’m checking in with Clint and Sherman, telling them I expect to get into Houston at midnight. Then it hits me. Time zones. Crap. Yeah, I’ll be getting into Houston at midnight… Yuma Time. Two Hours BEHIND Houston, Texas time. (sigh) Oops. So, the sun is starting to go down, and I get some more bad news from Clint. After San Antonio, the hills are alive with DEER. I’m not scared of much, but hitting a deer in such a beautiful, original car is definitely NOT in my plan (inevitable anyway…). On cue, I look up, and there’s a deer taking a tentative step from the breakdown lane to the travel lane that I am bombing down. Gulp. Tragedy avoided, but it has broken my concentration and my courage. Just. Like. That. It’s dark, I’ve been on the road for over 12 hours, Texas is just about making me tap out, and a deer just said hello. The loud pedal is no longer my friend, and I can’t bomb through the night by myself anymore. I pick any car that will pass me, and hang out on their bumper for as long as they are going fast. Probably pretty annoying, but I don’t care; I have AZ tags on a furrin car in Texas. Par for the course, right? Those last couple hours go okay, but it obviously take longer to cover the miles. I do great for 16 hours. Then I yawn twice. The 17th hour is brutal. I’m slapping myself, stomping feet, trying to get into the music, windows down, ANYTHING to stay awake. FINALLY, I arrive in the greater Houston area, but I have a 20 minute commute from the highway to Sherman’s house to navigate, too. Stop lights, other questionable cars, and unfamiliar lane patterns are all working against me. I get to Sherman’s house (18 hours exactly), and he’s actually working outside, too. Amazing. Guess I’m not the only one who had last minute stuff to do. He invites me in, I shower, and bomb out. Only a few hours till leg two.
Arizona at Sunrise:
1st gas stop, Chris, you must have read my mind...
Arizona - Done
Dave, I was thinking about you
New Mexico - Done
Despite the boredom, I really appreciate open road.
I couldn't believe they are polluting those beautiful buttes with windmills. Dang BLM has no shame!
Full attack mode in the cockpit.
Keep it above 20l...
May 23rd,
(Cypress, TX – Chattanooga, TN; 850 miles)
I’m up a little bit more than 4 hours later, shower again to wake myself up, take my allergy pill since I know I’m getting into green country again, and we saddle up. Ha! I even call my insurance company and take my car out of “storage” protection. Ooops. Now that I’m fully covered and only doing daytime driving for the next 5 days, I’m golden! We head off to a McDonald’s near I-10, and pick up 3 other cars.
The other guys take the hell off and start dancing through traffic. They are having a blast, and there’s no hope of keeping together. I’m just not ready to drive like that. Thankfully, the cops don’t get called to investigate the BMW caravan, and things quiet down after about two hours. It takes those two hours to get out of Texas. For those of you keeping score, that’s 13 hours at a decent pace to cross Texas on I-10, if you want to try to tackle it in one day. No, thank you. We’re headed for Winfred’s shop in Baton Rouge. Somehow I miss a turn, but still end up being the first to arrive at the shop. Thank you, iPhone maps. It is HOOMID outside! Gosh! It’s amazing how quickly you get accustomed to a new climate. We yak for a bit, look at some cars, check out the showroom, then decide to get a bite to eat. Clint and I get left by the M5s and Winfred’s 6er, and when we finally find the M5s again, they are pulled up to a Mom and Pop burger joint, next to a State Trooper car. They are just shooting the breeze, and no shenanigans. Whew! We’re yakking over food, and I find out that Clint’s girlfriend, (Who, I must add, is beautiful. Brave as hell, too. She couldn’t have possibly known what kind of characters she was going to run in to, what the drive was going to be like, and most of all, what kind of sausage fest she was going to arrive at.) drives a BMW. I pepper her with questions to see what kind of BMW owner she is. Clint steps in as legal counsel right before I can ask her what size the engine is. We all get a good laugh, I realize that I was being rude, and squeeze one more question in before we take off. Ha! Also, I was talking to Winfred, and we get talking about Air Conditioning. Yes, he can check it out and service it, if I have an hour. The other guys gang up on me and tell me that 1) They will not wait for me. (Fine.) 2) I am obligated to suffer like they are in their non-AC cars (Debatable.) 3) If I get my AC fixed, they will pull a “Jeremy Clarkson” and sabotage my AC at the earliest opportunity. (Hilarious.) I was VERY tempted to get it fixed anyway, but the car was doing great, and I had already realized that we were going to arrive in Chattanooga late. I was not willing to add an hour to my day after 3 consecutive nights with 4 hours of sleep apiece. We leave Baton Rouge and finally start heading north. More driving, blah blah. I’m tired. Huh. The sun starts to go down, and it’s about dinner time. We’ve had our lights on for safety just about the whole time, but, of course, near sunset, my headlight will NOT stay on. Well, it turns out that the wiring that was bodged together by Los Federales to put the US lights on had some questionable connections. Just moving the wires around and making sure they didn’t move was good enough, but I replaced the bulbs anyway. Lights on the rest of the trip. We arrive at Chattanooga and get some much needed rest. I think I got about 5 hours of sleep that night. An improvement.
Leaving Sherman's BMW Emporium
Start of the Caravan from Houston.
May 24th
Chattanooga, TN – Winston-Salem, NC; 450 miles (The long way, with a stop at The Tail of The Dragon)
As we were eating breakfast, we got word that LJ and company were finally going to make it in from Nebraska and other points west. They arrived and we all went outside to greet them. LJ looked like a zombie, I mean, he was literally zombie grey. He was still shaking the car down after a few all nighters, and it showed. They made their manners, then quickly hit the rack while we were going to be screwing around adding “unnecessary” miles to our trip.
We get a decent start in the morning and dip right into two lane roads. I was leading for some reason, and when the roads got twisty, I grasped the folly of my actions. Sherman was hot on my tail, outgunning my tall sidewall, B28 engined car. I let the other three cars by and doodled my way to the Dragon. As we got closer, the roads looked so familiar even though I hadn’t been since ’05. Wow. Fun stuff. We get some souvenirs and chow at the base of the Dragon. Then Sherman decides he’s NOT going to run the Dragon. (!!) I tell Sherman that we’ll be back in less than an hour, and ask Clint and Pavel if they want to lead. Nope. Okaaayyy… It was awesome. I kept seeing the Killboy cars, and a state trooper or two. We got to the other end, then Clint let Karen drive. We went back and got held up by some motorcycles (???). I was in their space a little bit, but they played it really cool. It was a lot of work to drive the car in a sporty way, but it was very fulfilling. We collected Sherman, got some expensive gas (it was $.50 more expensive, but I was ready to get to the hotel, and didn’t want to stop again; those Zero MPH moments were adding up), and began the final leg to The Hawthorne. Drive, blah blah…
What a view!
Quite a line up
Jokers
We FINALLY arrive at the Hawthorne, and it’s about 6 PM. The place was hopping, and there were no parking spots in the big open “cool” section. I said hi to a few people, checked in, then threw my manners out the window and took my car to the wash pit for some much needed attention. 2400 miles of bugs and road grime… My car was no longer white. Gross. Some people came and said hi, but I didn’t stop washing the car. Sorry if I offended you. You know I’m not a super crazy neat freak, but the car was disgusting. Meanwhile, I have my phone in the car charging, and it was ringing off the hook. So was Andy’s, and Paul’s. Turns out the hotel is looking for me. Hmmmmm. Finally, I make my way over to the front desk and have a good laugh with the hotel people. They saw me turn the corner and the look of relief on their faces was comic. I did an about face and disappeared around the corner again. “We saw you, Mr. Armour!! Ha!” Turns out they gave me a key to an already occupied room. There was a whole busload of old people that showed up around the same time I did, so I can only imagine what I could have walked in to. *shudder* I walk around some more, visit with old friends, get a great parking spot under that huge tree, and wind down. Matt delivers my Zender front airdam. The tuning hat trick of wheels and airdams is COMPLETE!! Orlando and I go to Hooters for dinner. I deliver a sport steering wheel and his ‘Rollin’ Red’ Sign. We’re making plans for the next morning, and I tell Orlando that I will NOT be doing the Rally. I talk to some other people that I planned to caravan with to the meet, and they are all going on the rally, so I cave and agree. It will be about five of us… I talk guns with Brayne, then almost get drunk on Skip’s moonshine/lightning breath. Wow. That stuff smelled mighty fine, but the whole LDS vs. Alcohol thing… yeah. I think I still manage to get to bed by midnight, AND I get to sleep in tomorrow morning. All the way to 630 or 7!! Yeehaw!
More to come...
Last edited by ldsbeaker on May 31, 2013 6:33 PM, edited 3 times in total.
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rmiddendorf
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