Richard and I motored down to Medford Saturday afternoon. We met Andrew and Shaun at The Apple Peddler for lunch/dinner. I inhaled a hamburger, likely made with the meat contained in one cow, while Andrew nibbled some parsley or something healthy, and Fopar munched down some of the best meat-loaf in the state. I finished off an ice cream Sunday while the health nuts watched patiently, then we scooted over to the track, where the gates opened promptly at 5:03:16 pm.
Tech was much as one might expect, with comments such as, "Where'd you hide the sneaky pete, Richard?" and "Are you sure JB weld will hold with that much anti-freeze, Andrew?" during the meticulous survey conducted from the comfort of the inspector's chair in the shade. To be fair, he knows us, and did ask if anything had changed.
Once the sun was fully down, we made our time runs in between diesel trucks and big tire cars. That was nice, as the smoke cleared out all insect life for several miles. One of the over-fueled diesels had a stock exhaust installed, so I don't know if they ever got a good MPH in the traps. He'd make a pass, then we'd wait half a minute for the smoke to clear so the track was visible again.
To start out our extensive competition, Fopar and I took to the track. Andrew cut a 0.013 light, so Richard and I insisted he take the single. I think that was the furthest he got from a perfect light all night. This was a gentleman's race. Richard broke out by some unlikely thing like 3/1000ths, so gave my lame butt the round. (The proof is crumpled up on my floor board somewhere.)
To add insult to injury when I ran Andrew, the Hooptie actually left on a good light then magically ran a 15.34 on a 15.33 dial, matted out for the whole trip. After which it promptly dropped a cylinder on the return road.
It was then that the track announced that I needed to bring the Hooptie around for a photo session. There was a pretty girl and everything. I remember washing the Hooptie once, I just can't remember which year that was. I'll toss a WAG at 2008. Fortunately, the farmers are plowing right now, so a thin layer of dust coated the otherwise cancerous brown finish sporting greasy hand prints and festooned with bird poop. The Hooptie is ugly as the south end of a north bound Yak with digestion problems.
We then capered back to the slant six compound, and toasted one another with slightly warm Gatorade prior to falling asleep to the soothing serenade of un-muffled go-karts and the maniacal laughter of those particular motor-sport enthusiasts. Fortunately, they shut down around 2am, so we got plenty of rest in various pickup seats prior to our 6am departure.
Andrew bought everybody Breakfast back at The Apple Peddler, after which we began our leisurely drive home.
Andrew pealed out at Grants Pass, planning to stop for the worlds best custom donuts. Fopar and I continued North, with Richard jumping off at Cottage Grove to feed a snack to his triple Rochester two barrels topping his tow rig engine. I'm home now, looking forward to doing something exciting with the remainder of my day. Like take a nap.
Thus ends the saga of Champion Dragstrip slant six drag racing for this year. Kirk was very happy to see us back, and provided some wonderful trophies for us, though he didn't charge much for the race. I think it was $35 each for racers.
He looks forward to having us back next year, so pencil Medford into your schedules!
I'm off to find myself.
If I should return before I get back,
Keep me here!