There are miniature pretzels here in the Sky Club at Detroit. I have a bunch of miniature die-cast cars in my office at home. I play a mean round of miniature golf, but don't care much for miniature poodles. At Twin Cities professional sports venues, roving vendors actually sell small bags of mini-donuts, too. Well, today we'll try a little mini-blogging. I'm here in Detroit on my way home, having caught the 12:15 flight out of Harrisburg, and my connection leaves here in an hour so there's not enough time to crank out one of my patented epic "War And Peace" length entries. I can hear the cries of "Thank God!" ringing out from around the world...

Getting right to the crux of the situation, let's talk about Sunday.  I awoke around 6:00 a.m. and walked over to the window expecting to see pouring rain, flooded streets, and perhaps an ark full of pairs of animals floating by. Instead, the sun was beginning to brighten a partly cloudy sky! Hooray for small miracles.

We all convened at Maple Grove not long after that, and then spent the morning preparing for round one while the endless deep-throated roar of sportsman racing was going on right behind us. The schedule had gotten so far out of whack, with all the bad weather and water seepage, the large sportsman contingent was probably close to two full days behind where they should've been, and almost all of the Sunday morning professional pre-race stuff was scrapped to run as many sportsman racers as possible. We were only a bit late getting started, but it was pretty obvious after just a couple of Top Fuel cars ran in round one that we had some challenges ahead of us with the track.

The fact Sunday was sunny was the prime reason behind this good news/ bad news scenario. It was great to be dry, but the heat from the sun was causing the water in the saturated ground beneath the track to bubble up right through the asphalt. This wasn't a deal of water coming up through expansion joints or cracks, mind you, it was bubbling straight up through perfectly groomed asphalt. The Finkster and I rode around to the other side of the track during one of the delays, as the relentless Safety Safari did all they could to give us a good track. A track-drying vehicle would pass in front of us, leaving behind a dry surface, and within seconds we could see small dots appear, as water worked its way back to the top.

The Top Fuel cars were dropping cylinders like crazy, down track, and it only took a couple of laps like that for us to realize what was going on. They were spinning the tires down there, but not smoking them, because the moisture in the track was causing them to lose traction. A loss of traction causes the load on the motor to lessen, of course, and the next domino to fall is the one marked "dropped cylinders". Seeing this, the Funny Car crew chiefs were making wholesale changes in their tune-ups, taking as much spark and fuel out of the car as possible down there after the 660 mark. The cars were going straight, and staying upright, because of the huge amount of downforce they make, but the Goodyear slicks didn't have a lot to adhere to down there.

We were seventh pair in the first round, racing against Mike Neff, and when that moment finally arrived I knew Tim and (car chief) Jeff Jacobs had a good plan in mind. I knew, absolutely knew, that we'd go A-to-B and I fully expected us to win the round. As I watched it unfold through my tiny viewfinder, I firmly thought we were winning.  When I heard some yells from behind me, I was sure we had won. Turns out, the yells were from Neff's guys, and he beat us by an eyelash.  Two weeks in a row, we raced brilliantly and would've beaten every other car in the class, with the lone exception being the one car we were matched up with. If I had any hair left on my shiny head, I'd be pulling some of it out, but that's the way it is... We have a car that's just as good and just as quick as it was in Seattle and Sonoma, but in Brainerd and Reading we just had no luck in the "who do we get to race?" department.

Oh well (or, as they say in Scotland, "Ach, aye...") we move on...

Well, this is a mini-blog, so I have to start wrapping it up. I've included a photo gallery, of course, and in it you'll see all sorts of pics, ranging from Maple Grove shots, to a pic of the A concourse at Harrisburg's airport, and all three gates that populate it, then the disturbing specter of landing in Detroit to see that an actual majority of the planes on the ground now are painted in Delta colors (sniffle) including the mammoth 747 that is always parked at the first gate in the middle of the gargantuan main concourse, ready to fly to Tokyo. Also, if you've ever been here at DTW you've probably seen the magic fountain that always draws a crowd that is most accurately described as being made up of "kids of all ages" because everyone loves to watch the little streams of water fly through the air and land in precisely the right spot. It's almost impossible to show in a photo, but at least this way you'll know what to look for if you're ever here. And in the background you can see the "Whoosh" train going by overhead. The NWA logos have been removed, but at least the train remains bright red...

There's also a pic of Brandon, moments after he dove into one of the hellishly hot peppers my blog buddy Skal dropped off. Brandon started small, kept going after bigger pieces, and then went for the gusto.  For the next 45 minutes he was actually on fire. Burst into flames he did, right before our very eyes, in a moment of pepper-induced spontaneous combustion. Okay, he didn't burst into flames or catch on fire in any way, but he said he felt like he did. Pretty funny stuff...

Oh, and there's also a pic of Tim talking to another Funny Car driver, on the back of our Ford Flex in the LRS pit area. This other driver caused such a stir among our hospitality guests, who were only a few feet away, the flash of cameras and the whole sense of activity and interest caught the attention of the Al-Anabi guys, who were pitted nose-to-nose with us. They thought a rock star might be in our pit, but it was just... You'll see.

Gotta go. Back with more throughout the week, but right now I want to go home... Take me home, Delta.

Wilber, out!