It's spooooooky... Actually, waking up at sunrise and walking out of your hotel room at 7:55 a.m., only to be greeted by gobs of people who are just coming in after a VERY long night, is what's spooky about being in Las Vegas on All Hallows Eve. I told John Fink this morning, after we had each had encounters with some well-worn revelers, "In all my wild college days, at the heights or depths of our debauchery, I can never remember staggering back home at 8:00 in the morning, still three sheets to the wind. I can't see how much fun you can have when you've destroyed yourself as much as these folks, but to each his own, I guess."

I can say this about our weekend to this point: You can't really ask for better weather than this in Vegas. Almost no wind (unheard of, in these parts!), blue skies, and pleasant temps. This can't be beat... I truly felt sorry for Barb when I heard that it was 33 degrees and raining at home, because that's about as miserable you can get. Hopefully, things are little better back there tonight, so the kids can get out and raid our candy supplies...

On the track, yesterday, we had a good day, but not quite great. We put a hole or two out on the first run, and were 8th after that initial session. Then, by the time we ran in Q2 and all the big numbers were starting to pop up on the scoreboards, we had already been demoted to below the No. 12 Friday cut-line, thereby establishing a temporary position in the "also ran" group. So... We put a 4.11 on the board and moved back up to the lucky No. 7 spot, despite pushing a head gasket out late in the run. It's a little warmer today, but if the track temp stays below 105 or so, some people will be out there trying to improve. That group would include us.

Of course, today the Funny Cars run after Top Fuel, and if those guys have the sort of day they had yesterday, in terms of oil-downs, we could be in for a very long Saturday. Pro Stock Motorcycle in running right now, then Pro Stock, then the dragsters, and then us. After that, repeat.

Backtracking a bit, I did get here just in time on Thursday to help coordinate the Ford Taurus program, with Tim and Susan Pollack (my colleague who works for the PR agency that represents Ford). The video crew mounted a camera on the dash of the new Taurus, then another guy jumped in the back seat with a mini-cam, and we left the track headed for Gaudin Ford. I led the way in my rental car, so that Tim could concentrate on driving the new car while talking to the video guys as he drove, but of course that plan didn't take into account my own lack of local knowledge, when it comes to surface streets and back roads. We knew we couldn't take the freeways, because on my way from the airport to the track it was obvious that I-15 was nothing more than a glorified parking lot, so we picked our way down to Sahara on other roads.

It wasn't flawless, but we got there at 4:55 for our 5:00 appointment. I call that win for the navigator...

Tim did some more video work, outside the car, then we went into the dealership and met all the people who work there. Finally, at around 6:00 it was time to head to Fremont Street for the big Fan Fest, and this time it wasn't big. It wasn't even huge. It was ENORMOUS. Everyone felt bad about it, but the line for autographs was so long the promoters finally just shut it down and had to apologize. Had they not done that, I think there would still be people in line down there...

While Tim was signing autographs, I took a stroll up Fremont and discovered that the Pro Bull Riders were doing just what we were doing, one block away. It was kind of funny to be strolling through hoards of people in NHRA stuff, then cross the street and find myself surrounded by cowboy hats and Wrangler jeans (oh, and BIG belt buckles).

After that, I took Tim and Krista back to Mandalay Bay, I got checked in, went to my room, decided to go blow a few bucks, and succeeded. Shazam!!! A couple of Ben Franklins flew out of my possession so fast I should have just saved myself the agony and thrown them out the window...

Still feeling like I was on Central Time, I woke up the next morning at 4:30, but forced myself to stay in bed until sunrise. My room on the 32nd floor (at the end of the hall, just like I prefer) has floor to ceiling windows facing east, and I laid there and watched the black sky begin to lighten, then turn pinkish, and finally orange, before the sun burst into view over the mountains. It was pretty gorgeous, to tell you the truth.

Finkster flew out here, so no motorhome for him this weekend and he's staying with us at Mandalay. I am, therefore, his personal chauffeur and we met outside the main elevators at 8:00, both yesterday and today. With tonight being Halloween (and the last day of Daylight Savings, so everyone gets an extra hour's sleep) I suspect the hotel might be a little loony. I should have started counting how many young ladies I've seen dressed as sexy (or not) nurses so far. Dozens. Some of them should have chosen something less revealing, that's all I'm gonna say. We just need some guidelines. Not necessarily firm rules, but at least some general guidelines.

After being a little lighter in the wallet after the first night, I was going to just go straight to my room last night but finally gave in to the pressure of feeling like I might just be lucky enough to win some of it back. Good thing I had that feeling, because I was indeed lucky enough, and now I'm back to even on the trip, which qualifies as a win in Vegas. Of course, I have two more nights here, so the jury is very much still out.

Lots of longtime original blog followers here... Tom and Doug Miller, Crazy Jane and Chris from Vancouver, and many many more. Erica Moon, from Becker, Minn., has been reading forever but she couldn't be here. Her folks are, though, so you'll see a special hello to Erica in the photo gallery...

There's lots more to write about, but we're pushing back for Q3 and I want to get this sent in. More later, gang... Sorry this is so short and so hurried, but I felt this was better than holding off.

Happy Halloween. Don't eat all those mini-Butterfingers at once...

Wilber, out!