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Posts By: W Christian Mental Ward
This is the final installment of Mental’s adventures in the BABE Rally in 2011. By now their van has been traded for beer. They are looking for a ride to New Orleans and still have to find a way home.
Just outside of Talladega Alabama, the wheels I borrowed from my shop mate have become props for the evening parking lot games. My wife and I manage to secure rides, but in separate cars. That’s probably safer for me anyhow.
She will ride with “The Scots.” They are exactly what you think; two Scottish friends and a sister that have spent their last two vacations coming to America just for this event.
I hitch with “The Ginger Kids.” They are also exactly what you think, a young, fair-skinned, scarlet-headed trio. The BABE rally prior, the driver’s car had broken down in front of the house of a young girl. The ensuring conversation resulted in a yearlong romance and this year she accompanied him and his friend for the rally. You can’t make this stuff up.
Kreutzer was too damm old for this. It had been a mistake to go back to the orphanage, but he couldn’t bear the thought of those small faces going hungry one more night. The briefcase from the last job would keep the bills paid for at least another year. It was worth it, but they had been watching.
They hit he as he exited on the ground floor. He quickly dispatched the first two but a third managed to get a solid shot to his ribs before Kreutzer’s notorious right hook sent him crumbling to the ground. But there were more.
There were always more.
Seems like an odd place to bed down for the night.
This is part 3 of a 4-part misadventure Mental embarked on in a $400 minivan sans AC. After being awake for 41 hours the Lumina MPV had let them down and was being attended to by a team of misguided and certainly intoxicated mechanics…
As promised, the van was running the next AM, but still required some new parts. The nearest parts store a few minutes down the road, next to the aforementioned Alabama Museum. Dekalb Auto Parts, it is a true independent family owned auto parts store. Sticking out of the side of the building is the back half of a Datsun station wagon. They were well stocked, knowledgeable and found the parade of festive colored crapcans rather interesting. If you are ever in Ft Payne Alabama, give them your business.
Just to keep the door’s operational status updated.
Welcome to part II of Mental’s BABE Rally misadventures. Read on about his tempting of fate, the security of his marriage and his own personal safety by dragging his wife across the US in a $400 minivan without AC. Spoiler alert, his wife didn’t kill him but he did have to sleep on the couch for a while. When we last left our intrepid traveler, he was in a hotel parking lot at 7 AM on his way to the “Tail of the Dragon.”
It’s 7 AM, we have had a shower and I have downed my 5th styrofoam cup of coffee. Our Luminia MPV is covered in sidewalk chalk and rally stickers. As we made ready for departure, the Miata needed some attention, so we were already late.
This is the first of a 4 part series about Mental tempting both fate and the security of his marriage by driving across hallway across the US, down through the south and (not quite) back to Oklahoma in a $400 Chevy Lumina minivan. Spoiler alert: his wife didn’t kill him but he did have to sleep on the couch for a while…
Jay Lamm, Chief Perpetrator of the 24 Hours of LeMons wrote that “racing isn’t just for rich idiots, it’s for all idiots.” Chumpcar has a similar philosophy. That covers racing, but what about tours de elegance? There is an abundance of marque specific or classic car tours available across the US for more well-to-do enthusiasts; they offer a great deal of fraternal experiences, scenic views and luxury accommodations. Unfortunately, the fees start in the used Corolla range and can exceed the price of a new Chevy Cruz.
To paraphrase Mr. Lamm, what about the rest of us idiots? Up until 2012, there was the option of the BABE Rally.
My boss and I drive the same style rental slug Toyota over here, but when his was due for service, instead of a replacement Fortuner, I spotted a 2011 Chevy Caprice in his parking spot. Having spent almost a year without a proper V-8 under my foot, I convinced him we needed to take that […]
Toyota is one of the largest manufacturers of cars in the world. It’s not a surprise, especially if you have travelled out of the US. They are everywhere. I have only owned three Toyotas; a coma-inducing silver Camry DX, and two MKII Supras. Despite my lack of ownership, I have spent a sizeable portion of my […]
lifted from www.advrider.com and their 250 Ninja picture thread
The old saying goes; to be older and wiser, you must first be young and stupid. This is the story of my life. I’m older, but still waiting to be wiser.
While everyone has a story of the dumbest thing they have done, I have a book. Hopefully the point of this and other tales I share here, will not only be to entertain, but on a certain level, make you feel better about stupid things you have done.
Officer Stark, Tony Stark
I hope you aren’t looking for any in-depth commentary here. Earlier this month, fresh on the heels of the Yas Marina F1 race, was the Dubai Motor Show. Held every two years it contains an entire bushel of drool worthy machines from the most exclusive and exotic of manufacturer’s, the Dubai Police department also had a display of some of their vehicles.
Paraphrasing the Drive-By Truckers; I grew up in the south back when dinosaurs roamed the earth.
The dinosaurs of were the boats you see in Murlee’s amazing contributions. But at the time, the “cool” ones fit into one of three narrow categories; Camaro, Firebird or Mustang. V8s and solid rear axles enabled them to spin the tires. Our $3.37 per hour minimum wage jobs did not enable us to replace them.
Fortunately the market had a solution; retreads. Bald tires with a new tread pattern effectively glued over the top. You don’t see them very often now, but at one time, they made up 20% of the tire market.
“All I need is a name.” He said.
This road trip was a fiasco. A week ago we had left his home in North Carolina in my Porsche 911 on a starry-eyed quest worthy of “This American Life.”
We were going to find my brother’s father.
Leave me here
The day prior, we had traded Chad for Susan, today we traded Susan for Joe. Clearly we are trading down; hopefully Sian would be there and brighten the day. The gates don’t open until 11, and after the last three late nights and (relatively) early mornings, we can use the rest.
The opening event is the 2nd GP2 Race. It’s the same as the last three days, the sights the sounds and the smells are getting routine.
By day 3, we have gotten wise. After 2 days of going to get the truck and re-park before dinner and the after race concerts this time we try to just park in the final lot across from our grandstands. It works; the truck is in a closer spot in a nightclub just across from our grandstands.
Hopefully the truck is still there this evening.
My overambitious 8:30 departure plan becomes nine-something. But we are parked and on the shuttle bus by 9:45. Unlike yesterday, the bus stops in front of our grandstands. As we clear security and proceed to the building, the GP2 cars scream by on their warm up. We all exchange smiles.
Our seats are freaking awesome. The south grandstands, at the end of the straight. The cars literally turn in front of us and accelerate away. We get situated to take some pictures and here they come. After 10 minutes, their tires are warm and the drivers start pushing it. They lock up on the gators. Overshoot the turn and drive into the runoff. They bounce and spin out. We all have earplugs and don’t use them. The little open wheel machines scream, then backfire and burble for the downshift, then scream away.
It would seem that I’m not the only one excited for the Abu Dhabi F1 Race this weekend. Check out Susie Wolff’s Instagram (but NOT AT WORK!!!!!) for a stopover in Dubai… With the big guys at TTAC unable to attend the F1 festivities, it fell onto my weak and thin shoulders to share my experiences at the Abu Dhabi F1 race with you, the B&B.