And their off like a herd of turtles. Another roadtrip has begun. it’s about 1:30 and the mile markers of that oh so familiar ribbon of ashphalt called the New York State Throughway are now streaking by again.
For teh second time this year this trek east is made easier through the courtesy of GQ and papa Haynes. I’m in the sleeper part of the cab and while somewhat cold and smelling of wet dog, it’s a damned site better than putting more miles on Black Betty, and I’m extremely grateful that I was asked along for this trip.
There’s never any lack of what you would call “excitement” on any of the many runs over the road I make, but when traveling in a rig pulling one of my favorite race cars, I am always guaranteed more than a few errant “F-Bombs” disguised as and accepted as proper English. Most often used to refer to the many mindless idiots who have no respect or little, if any clue, about “Robert’s Rules of the Road” (that’s another blog), this favorite form of language is also accepted when describing a prior roadtrip, a race from earlier in the season, or as an under the breath comment when passing a particularly enjoyable piece of scenery.
Of course, there are times when even those ‘normal’ events of the road are surpassed by something that is truly a memorable event. Say, something like, the wildly bouncing trailer tire that just jumped the wall in the median two cars up from of us. I’m thinking that the occupants of the white Chevorolet in front of us didn’t find as much humor in the situation as we all did and more than likely have made the interior of their car a literal example of the multitude of jokes concerning filling one’s dungerees with human body functions that we’ve already made.
No there’s never a lack of memorable moments when traveling to the next supermodified show, and I’m sure there will be many more on this trip as we try to get to All-Star for a practice session tonight.
As we roll through the Mohawk Valley 60 miles west of Albany with a constant mist against the windshield, the one thing that helps to brighten teh otherwise dreary drive is the vibrant colors of the surrounding hills. It’s fall in Upstate, and while it’s not at it’s peak, the colors are amazing and look like a painting. Something tells me though that this may be little consolation to help ease the knowledge that the race car will probably stay loaded tonight because of the weather. It looks doubtful that there will be any track time on a car that needs some shaking down after Classic, and now it almost seems like a wasted trip with a lot more wasted money on what was to be an economy run for all involved.
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