“No more (micro) waves,” “Getting stoned with the Presidents,” and, “I’m freezing, but I’m horny!”

If you would be so kind as to close your calendar, remove your watch, and refrain from looking at anything with the current date on it, we can just pretend that I am current on this blog. In fact, if you can wrap your imagination around today being, oh, let’s say, October 27th, that would make me about as punctual as my buddy Bob Wilber on my web log (that’s where “blog” comes from).

During our stay in Indy at the shop, Jason was allowed to pick the car for us to finish the season in. Good thing for the Top Fuel guys that he didn't pick that dragster... good thing for MTS and Valvoline he picked a nice body!

All right then, let’s go back about a week (work with me, I know that it really is more like 2 ½, but it’s just us buddies here): To say that we did some driving on this leg of the trip would be an understatement (why do they call it “one leg” of the trip? I get that the “first leg” should signify the trip “there,” and the “second leg” denotes the trip “back,” but if we stay with the anatomical analogy, wouldn’t that make the destination whatever is between the “legs?” Sounds a little offensive to me, but I digress). From Maryland we headed back to the DSR shop in Brownsburg (let’s call it 474 miles) to spend a day with the crew. Everyone was a bit demoralized after losing in round one to the No. 16 qualifier (no disrespect at all to the Smiths, we just felt we should have been able to capitalize on qualifying No. 1), so I thought seeing my charming face would cheer all the guys right up, and boy did that work! In typical Beckman fashion, we arrived in Indy late Monday night and then departed REALLY late Tuesday night.

We did some soul-searching before we left Indy, trying to maximize our “vacation” time and not just be in a hurry to get home, as we so often are. We may have been subconsciously influenced by the fact that there was SO MUCH to do at the new house that another few days away would keep us from having to face the inevitable organizing that awaited. We decided that, even though the weather was turning cold, we would take the northern route and try our best to be good tourists, safe drivers, and amongst the leaders in family trips to state capitol buildings. The tricky part was trying to coordinate our driving time with the hours of operation of these destinations. If I was a State Legislator, I’d proclaim that all State House employees work midnight to 8 a.m., but I realize that might not be the most popular choice. So, we plotted our course on the map, used our little Ferdinand (get it... “Magellan’s” first name was Ferdinand... and we have a Magellan GPS unit), and used some “calculated guesswork” (there’s an oxymoron) before setting out. We even used the Blackberry to check weather reports in a few areas, as getting snowed in didn’t sound like too much fun.

{GALLERY_bbnov9a}Three hundred and sixteen miles later we were officially crossing Wisconsin’s State House off our list and feeling hungry for more. Our next stop would be the lovely town of Minneapolis, Minn., for another Capitol. That’s when I noticed a major problem: Seems as though the great State of Minnesota — land where my maternal grandfather was raised on a farm with his seven siblings — had decided to move its capital over to the sister city of St. Paul (which I believe is named after someone named Paul who played for the New Orleans football team). Sure, all you who are familiar with the facts are going to tell me that the capitol has NEVER been in Minneapolis (which means “City of Lakes,” as opposed to “Los Angeles,” which means, “City of Flakes”), but keep in mind that I’m the guy that still thinks he’s up to date with this blog! Nonetheless (which is a bizarre way to cram three words together), we kept our composure (as opposed to Mozart’s employers, who kept their composer... very clever!), enjoyed ourselves on one of our rare guided tours, and filed an anonymous complaint regarding the place being moved and us not receiving the memo. We also aren’t sure if that’s real gold on the statues and centerpiece on the roof, or if Rustoleum has a new product that just looks real. No matter, we’ll have our samples analyzed by the FBI soon (after they catch all the conspirators in the government plot for 9/11) and get back to you.

If I’m sounding more and more conspiratorial, I’m beginning to convince myself that the government has been dealing me a raw hand (that’s a weird metaphor) lately. For instance, us losing in round one of Richmond... c’mon, somebody from the CIA, wearing BVD’s and OP’s, must have removed some VHT in order to screw up our ET, or I’ll be an SOB! Okay, maybe we just had too much clutch in it, but there’s other events that will make you a believer: What are the chances that our front heater, our convection/microwave oven, AND our sewer hose (perhaps I shouldn’t mention “sewer” and “oven” in the same sentence) all would “take a dump” (again, maybe not the best use of wording in the same sentence with “sewer hose”) within two days of one another? Yep, seems the instant that the outside temperature went below 40, our front thermostat decided to take the rest of the year off. Even two trips to Walmart for a small, ceramic heater proved fruitless (not that fruit has anything to do with trying to heat the RV); the first one sucked the batteries dry and then seized, and the second, even smaller unit, still was too large a drain electrically to be able to use without the generator running. The Mighty W-Mart did provide me with the latest in sewer hose technology: 20’ of heavy-duty, 15-mil (I have no idea what that even means, but it sounds good) thick, quick-disconnect equipped (who the hell needs a sewer hose that disconnects quickly... I REALLY take my time maneuvering that “holder of evil” on and off!) super-duty poop chute. It’s so damn nice I still haven’t been able to bring myself to open up the package, but I digress, again. Being without a microwave isn’t necessarily the end of the world, but our RV has no oven, as it is part of the micro unit. So, unless you can cook it on the stove-top, you eat it cold. Our temporary solution to that was to hit up the local Best Buy and fork (another clever metaphor) over some cold (okay, Jack, enough with the word games!) cash for a cheapie microwave unit to get us by.

After all of this, we gathered up our possessions, looked over our shoulders for unmarked cars, glanced skyward for signs of those black helicopters, and high-tailed it to our next capital city: North Dakota; 452 miles later, we were there. This was one of the trickier parts of our tour: In order to make it to Vegas without risking tardiness, we really had to hit BOTH of the Dakota capitols on this Friday. Though seeing two cities spread out by 210 miles wouldn’t be a Herculean feat (not to be confused with Herculean feet... totally different deal) by most folk’s standards, consider that we have to park the RV at the nearest Walmart, unload the PT to take to the State Houses, reload, and tow down the road to the next destination, which eats up lots of time. Okay, I suppose I should be entirely forthcoming and mention that we’re not exactly up at the “crack of dawn.”

{GALLERY_bbnov9b}If you live in North Dakota, please skip this paragraph... (Are they all gone? Okay, here we go:) That Capitol sucks! Not quite as bad as the one in New Mexico (if you live in NM, kindly disregard the previous sentence), and maybe a push with the one in Honolulu (you Hawaiians shouldn’t be offended, the Queen’s castle is just dandy, and you have great surf), this building was erected during the Great Depression (boy, there’s an oxymoron!) and looks like a typical, old office building. It reminds me of those two old man characters from the Muppets who were always heckling from the balcony of the show’s theatre: 75 years old... and nasty! Anyway, we need to welcome back our North Dakota readers and move on.

After thoroughly enjoying the beautiful sights in Bismarck, we headed on down towards South Dakota to see Pierre. No, Pierre isn’t a French pawnbroker who sells heaters and microwaves, that is the name of the capital city. Quite fortuitously for us, this Capitol is open 365 days a year, and is open ’til 7p.m. and later... just my style! It was also interesting to me how different the security is at the various State Houses. Jersey wanted to do a body-cavity search (not really, I just volunteered) and you had to be escorted (by a building guide, not some cheap call-girl) the entire time. South Dakota basically was a “serve-yourself” event, with one guard doing random patrols. If you live in South Dakota, please continue to read this paragraph, and my apologies to your cousins from the north: Your Capitol rocks! Nice building, nice architecture, nice interior, nice grounds, nice job! The difference between the two Dakotas really was similar to the opening lines from A Tale of Two Cities (you’ll have to look it up; my fingers are starting to get sore).

One of the common themes of this trip was wheel-time, those countless hours spent mesmerized by the road, freeing up your mind to reminisce, ponder, philosophize, and stare at the bugs stuck to the windshield. One particular night I found it startling that I now am 43. Quite literally, it seems as though the last 17 years have just flown by, providing sometimes little more than photos to catalog what should be hundreds of thousands of memories. I thought back to grade school and the following academic years, and they seem like someone else’s life to me. I thought of my early years of racing, which SHOULD be only eight or nine years ago, yet, hard as it is for me to believe, have passed by more than two decades. What the hell happened? Geez, were the adults exactly “on the money” when they told us kids how fast the time would go!

You know, I just re-read my last paragraph and wondered why I used “17” years, and it just hit like a ton of bricks: That is how long ago my mother died, and I suppose that hit me harder than I could ever have imagined. I think sometimes we “tune out” to some extent in order to deal with the loss of loved ones, and, though it mitigates the hurt, it also dulls the present to some extent. See what being on the road too long can do to your senses? Okay, I’m back, and I’ll leave the major pondering to the likes of Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates (not to be confused with Larry, Mo, and Curly OR Emerson, Lake, and Powell).

{GALLERY_bbnov9c}Once we completed our climactic “Capitol Tour ’09,” we needed some sort of fix to keep from withdrawals, and there’s no one that says, “Hey, we’re getting high up here,” like George, Tom, Ted, and Abraham (not to be confused with John, Paul, George, and Ringo, OR Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Laura. Oops, substitute “John” for “Laura” if you weren’t a soap opera fan). I hadn’t been to Mt. Rushmore since I was about 3 or 4 (which, according to my perception is really only about 23 years ago), and I was amazed at how little our four Presidents had aged in that time. Sure, Abe’s beard is getting a little long, and Teddy could use some contemporary Oakleys, but this sight is an absolute must in your tourist travels.

Being as that we had begun this Saturday at a decent hour, we were able to continue down the road in the PT and partake of another significant landmark: Crazy Horse. This unfinished mountain carving is more than 60 years old and still a long way from finished, but it is impressive. We’ll check back in another 20 or so and see how much it has progressed.

While heading back towards the RV, which we left in Rapid City in the Black Hills, we found we still had ample sunlight and a decent balance on our American Express, so we took Jason through Bear Town USA, a stay-in-your-car ride through various animal habitations. We saw wolves, bears, mountain lions, rams (not the football players from St. Louis), and poop from a White Buffalo (not to be confused with white Buffalo poop). It was very cool (the tour, not the poop).

We packed up that evening and headed west... and south. It poured down rain, yet we still made it pretty far into Wyoming before it was time to stop for the night. Apparently we found the only rest stop that doesn’t want tired motorists to sleep there, but we did anyway as the next stop was too far for my tired eyes to make. It got into the 20s that night, and the front of the motorhome was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Lest you think that saying is a sophomoric attempt at gonad humor, it actually refers to a device (known as a “monkey”) installed on the deck of old wooden warships to hold cannon balls. When the temperature was extremely cold, the brass would contract more than the steel of the cannon balls, and they would roll off. What a great explanation of that phrase’s origin, but it still could be more hyperbole than fact! Fortunately, the cranky caretaker knocked on the door bright and early the next morning to tell us that we couldn’t sleep there and we had to go. Funny, we already had slept there, and why did we then have to leave? The part he said that did make me get up, suit up, and start up was that the coming snow storm was threatening road closures, and we’d better get over to I-25 post haste if we didn’t want to be stuck. Good enough for me!

Never ones to overlook experience as a guide, we always learn from our past mistakes and do our best not to repeat them. Having already been to the Cheyenne capitol two times due to either an innocent screw-up on our part, a warp in the space-time continuum, or another government conspiracy, we weren’t fooled this time and just kept on trucking... and honking. Yeah, there’s an interesting story around that “horny” tag on the title:

{GALLERY_bbnov9d}Winding through the Wyoming mountains is a breathtaking experience... when there’s enough visibility. We were getting a little concerned as the snow began to fall in the higher elevations, as we still had more climbing to do, and the forecast wasn’t exactly “crystal clear” (and you can use both meanings of that phrase). Suddenly the horns went off, and, since I usually drive with no hands on the wheel, it couldn’t have been caused by me. Just as suddenly the noise stopped, and we chuckled a bit and drove on. Horns on... off... on... off... on... off — that’s pretty much the best explanation I can provide of what clearly was a CIA/FBI co-conspiracy to piss off everyone driving within a mile of us. Fortunately there weren’t many hardy enough to travel on this day, but those air horns can be plenty annoying, especially when they continually blare for 45 seconds. At the next pull-out we stopped to check out the problem. The air ran out in the reservoir tank before I could troubleshoot the problem, and I didn’t want to take the steering wheel apart, as it contains all the cruise and wiper controls and I didn’t want to cause any other problems. Armed with my $19.95 Walmart toolkit, it didn’t take long for me to disconnect the power wire from the circuit breaker inside the generator control panel. Did I mention that it was outside, it was snowing, and I was freezing my “monkey” off? I couldn’t wait to get back into the RV and feel the warmth of the... oh, the heater’s broken... I forgot! (Going down the road we did have the dash heat and were able to run the generator, use the rear roof heater, and get some comfort up front, so it wasn’t too bad).

Aside from some of these small issues, the trip was a breeze. We even took our little man to a Chuck E. Cheese (not to be confused with Craze E. Horse) so he could unwind and enjoy some kid time. He was such a trooper most of the trip that we wanted to reward him. Further down the road in Utah, Fillmore to be exact, we detoured over to see the original Utah Territorial Capitol. Brigham Young (not to be confused with 49ers QB Steve Young) had some grandiose designs for his land, which was originally going to be called “Deseret” (not to be confused with the Neil Diamond song, “Desiree.” Did you know that the Mormons even had their own alphabet, consisting of 38 letters in its final form?).

By the time we rolled into Vegas, we had done enough sightseeing to last us until next year. Some days we drove less than 200 miles and spent lots of time just walking around. Other days it was 700-plus tics of the odometer and all I saw were white lines and asphalt. With a couple of days until the Vegas race begins, we have some repair work to do, some poker to play (for charity), some planes to see, and.. .heck, that would spoil the next blog.

Stay tuned!

Long time, no talk to! I sure wish that you’d write more often, but I understand completely. Oops, I’m really confused … it seems that it is I who has been reticent with the blogs lately, and I humbly apologize. Being on the road so much has certainly affected my perception on several things, including the frequency of my journalistic entries.

I’ve averaged about 48 blogs per year for the last two, but 2009 has proven more difficult for me to touch pen to paper (I’m being metaphorical here, just bear with me), though much of that is due to moving, travelling, and “daddy-ing” taking up more time. Once again I have fallen so far behind that I either need to give a really short version of my latest escapades (not to be confused with the SUV from Cadillac), which ain’t gonna happen, or split up my odyssey (not to be confused with the Honda vehicle) into a couple of entries. By the way, if you guessed “B” as my chosen method, give yourself an “A” for intuitiveness. So, let’s set the “way-back machine” (or WBM, not to be confused with BMW) for Richmond and start from there:

Though qualifying No. 1 was awesome, losing in the first round blew … in a major way! We had a tremendous opportunity to climb back up to the top of the standings, and it all went away in tire smoke 200 feet into the run against John Smith (not to be confused with Joseph Smith … he was the Mormon dude). Though I have twice tied for the No. 1 spot (and lost the tie-breaker based on the mph), I have enjoyed starting Sunday as the top seed only one time, at my fourth event in a Funny Car.

When we went up for the last run at what was, again, a very fast Virginia track, I figured we’d be happy with a 4.07 and a place in the top half of the field. Our teammate, Matt Hagan, had run a jaw-dropping 4.05 in the earlier session, but I didn’t think the track would give us that kind of number. When my other teammate, Capps, went 4.046 one pair ahead of us (though in the other lane), it really made me wonder what kind of tune-up Johnny, John, and Lee had put in our car.

My question was answered about three minutes later when, knowing I was on a bad-ass run, I crouched down in the seat near the finish line so I could look up through the top of the windshield and see the scoreboard when I went by. “4.044” looked plenty good to me, and then we had to watch eight very fast cars behind us take their shots at our number, which held up. Saturday was good … Sunday could have been better.

After an all-too-short Sunday, it was time to pack up and head out. We actually pulled out of the track just before the final ran, as Richmond can get plenty crowded with only one way out. The fan in me always wants to stay for the finals, but we needed to get our road trip started. Jenna, Cindy (who had flown in Friday and stayed with us), Jason (who still continues to mooch off of us and still doesn’t have a job), and I were heading up to Delaware to visit their family. This was the first time that Jenna and I had been back since Cindy’s sister, Kathy, passed away, and it was good to spend time with her parents Bill and Inez, and husband, George. We sent George the winner’s jacket from Norwalk, and now that the weather is getting cold he can wear it around his racing buddies. Cindy stayed at her parents’ house, while we slept in the RV, which was parked in the “community” parking lot.

{GALLERY_1028}Delaware Day One featured a trip to nearby historic New Castle for some sightseeing with Jason and Grandma. Jenna and I tagged along to provide chauffeur service and photo documentation assistance. I really love history (ironically, I thought it was the most boring topic in school, yet now I can’t get enough of it) and try to visit as many notable places as possible, so New Castle (not to be confused with “Old Castle”, which I would guess is somewhere in England) fit right into my designs.

Other Delaware delights included a trip to the pumpkin patch for Jason. Jenna and I sat this one out, as Grandma and the Great Grandparents took guardianship of our diminutive chap for the day. Besides, Jenna and I had business to attend to, state capitol-style; We had checked our map and decided that New Jersey really was the only one within reach that we had not already partaken of, so we forwent (there’s some old English for you) the Halloween fruit retailer and headed to Jersey. After our Capitol tour (Jersey security was something else; you could not even get into the building unless going on an accompanied tour) we still were craving some scenery, so we took a segue (no, not one of those 2-wheel self-propelled transportation devices) over to Princeton University. While on our way over there, Jenna was able to answer many questions we had about the age of the university, what exactly an “Ivy League” school is (originally used for NCAA sports to denote eight separate institutions), and definitions for several words that we had come up with. No, we didn’t have Alex Trebec in the back seat, but my smart wife is quite handy as a researcher, and she has put my Blackberry to good use (I hope that didn’t sound like an innuendo, which my phone tells me means, “indirect remark”). Hence, (therefore, for this reason, thus, consequently, that’s why, etc.) the third part of the title of this blog, reflecting my newfound excitement over the usefulness of my handset.

One of my childhood friends, Richard Schwartz, whom I met in the fourth grade and – with an IQ of 185 -- is probably the most intelligent person I ever met, was a math professor there when last I heard from him. Unfortunately, even the trusty Blackberry with Internet connection could not locate any news on him, which surprised me, as he is a published mathematician (I needed the Blackberry to help with that spelling!). The campus was beautiful, and I wish we had time to get out of the car and walk around. We needed to head back to Delaware, pack up the relatives, and head over to Jenna’s cousin Kenny and Katie’s place in Maryland. While the “grown-ups” all had after dinner conversation, I got pummeled by Will, Emma, and little Charlie in the kid’s play room. Jason stayed mesmerized (spelled that all by myself) with all the new toys.

On the 14th (yes, that is how far behind I am with my blogs) it was time to head down to Maryland to visit my family, and I was just getting everything buttoned up when disaster struck (Okay, I’m being a bit theatrical for literary purposes. While not a disaster on the proportion of the White Star Titanic or the Exxon Valdez, still, the HMS Beckman had issues); while wheeling the tow dolly over to the RV, I noticed that the right-side tire had quite a bit of camber that wasn’t factory. Though I’m sure the new alignment would help carry more corner speed into those hard left turns, it was causing the tire sidewall to rub on the fender bracket and it was gouged pretty good. If I was back home, with access to all my tools and welder, I’m sure I could have taken two or three days and screwed it up even more. Problem was; I was in Delaware with my $19 Wal Mart tool kit and nothing else, and we needed to be on the road that day. I figured that I would try to find a hitch installer and see what we could do, but then I had a watershed moment (OK, it really wasn’t a defining time in my life, but it was sort of an “epiphany-light”); I decided to call George, who I think was home hanging out in his sporty NHRA winner’s jacket. He suggested I call Skeeter, who is a die-hard drag racer/fan from back in the ‘60s. I got to hang out with several of this group the last time I was out, and I just sat back and enjoyed the bench racing session. Anyway, Skeeter has contacts, and howdy! Long story short: he, Tom, and Brett got me going.

While Skeeter warmed his hands in his pockets, and Tom rubbed his together, Brett decided to use the welder to keep his mitts toasty. The good news: my tow dolly now is faster than your tow dolly!

The spindle welds had cracked and it had begun to succumb to gravity, obviously the result of my enormously heavy PT Cruiser! Brett had to torch off the axle gusset to gain access to the offending weld, then we “McGyvered” (not sure if that term can be found on my Blackberry) the alignment to what looked good to us, the Committee of Four. Not only did I get back on the road, but I now had the confidence that my problems (at least on that side of the axle) were behind me. Brett is the Master of the MIG, Tom the Colonel of Cutting, and Skeeter the Prince of Pipe (our alignment “aid” was a four-foot pipe). I was comfortable with everything … except the severely worn tire on the one side. Since the other 10 tires on the RV and PT were new, why the heck not make it an even dozen and put new shoes on my dolly!

We headed down I-95 (interesting how the toll was $23 in the North direction and $7 for the same road on the Southern bearing. Seems that our government has let many private companies “purchase” the rights to some of our roads, trading maintenance for the right to charge whatever toll they think “appropriate”) to my cousin Ed and Kathy’s place in Laurel, MD. With a scheduled tour of the DC Capitol at 1:30 on the 15th, I figured I’d just drop off the wheels at a local tire store before then and we could pick them up later. Turns out that the 205/75R14 (item #2 in my title) isn’t so easy to find any longer, nearly going the way of the dodo (not “dodo” as in someone who isn’t too bright, I’m talking about the bird that now is extinct). I was just getting used to the fact that I couldn’t buy an L-60/15 any more, and now they pull this conspiracy on me! Our third stop was the charm, and I now am in the running for the “Goodyear customer of the year” award.

Yes, it was cold. Yes, it was raining. Yes, I use Valvoline ... and so should you!

Hey, for seven bucks you got all-you-can-eat spaghetti and a beauty pageant. From left, Allen Haines, fourth place, my dad Bob, and my uncle Ted (in his official evening wear).

At our "80% off" car show, my dad hanging out with some of his old hot rod pals.

Our Nation’s Capitol is alive and well, though the weather was quite chilly and wet for our visit. I hadn’t seen the place since Carter was in office (Jimmy, not Nell … I think I used that joke on a prior blog), but it appears they are taking good care of it all. Speaking of chilly and wet, the weather from this point on has been fairly nasty for us, and I’ll provide more insight about that in my next blog, which should be finished sometime before the Mayans’ predicted end of the world (that would be 12/21/12 for those of you not following the Mayan calendar, or the new Hollywood apocalyptic movies).

After hanging out with my Eastern Maryland relatives for another day, it was time to head west -- out to Cumberland – to see the rest of the family. That Saturday was supposed to be the annual car show downtown, which unfortunately had to be postponed due to … are you ready … bad weather.

Despite the postponement, all else went well. My dad and Teri drove up from Arlington (Texas, not the National Cemetery), and we all had a spaghetti dinner at the local Shrine Club.

When I say “we all”, I mean that nearly 100 people showed up. Truth be told, I think some of them had no clue who I was, but they had seven bucks and we’re hungry for some Italian food! Allen Haines, who does much of the organizing for the car events, did manage to pull off a mini car show at a local business, Class Glass, which manufactures hot-rod bodies.

Aside from all that, I got to spend time with many of my relatives, we had cake for Teri’s birthday, and my cousins won a Civil War battle. I suppose I should expound on that: Mickey and Cole Livingston are Union (the Federal or Northern side of the conflict, not a worker’s coalition) re-enactors who participate in many battles each year. This particular fight was the 145th anniversary of the Cedar Creek battle in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. We arrived late, thanks to help from our 145-year-newer GPS Magellan (come to think of it, wasn’t Magellan killed by natives?), and so we only saw about 10 percent of the battle. It was incredible, and I hope next year we can attend another battle or two.

While not admitting that I’m painfully behind (not to be confused with a painful behind) in my blogs, this only catches me up to October 18th, so I shall endeavor to submit another entry as soon as possible. Currently I sit in the RV in the Vegas circle track parking lot, but next on your menu shall be: travel, weather, malfunctions, cool places, and, I hope … more Wallys!

Stay tuned.
 

Currently, final qualifying positions are awarded “bonus” points, with No. 1 getting eight points and No. 16 getting one. This system has been in effect for quite some time, with no complaints. “Recent” changes to the points system include eliminating any points associated with speed (national records were worth one round of points, and top speed of the meet was worth a fourth of a round) was done in 1990 in response to the rising speeds and fixed-length shutdowns (Connie Kalitta’s 291-mph run at Pomona really was the impetus…Tony Schumacher went 337 in the same distance years later!); reducing the round points from 200 down to 20 in order to fall more in line with NASCAR points differentials (it looked like a runaway points lead in the newspapers if someone had a 1,200-point advantage, even though that translated into only six rounds of eliminations); cutting qualifying points in half (from 16 for the No. 1 qualifier down to 8), done in conjunction with the reduction in round points. Realize that before this reduction, qualifying number one was only worth one-twelfth of a round; currently the same position is now worth more than third of a round win. These changes were done in 1995, and since then the system has pretty much been left alone, with the notable exception of the Countdown format, implemented in 2007 and altered in 2008.

My gripe with the new system (which could potentially award 12 points per race to a team if they qualify low each session, times the six races in the Countdown, which is 72 points, or nearly four rounds of eliminations), is two-fold. First, take a driver like Jeg Coughlin who, as perhaps the best driver in the sport right now, found himself sitting atop the Pro Stock standings when the points were reset following Indy. Though his car seldom is even in the top five in qualifying, his driving and good tuning calls on Sunday put that team #1. Jeg’s lead went from nearly two races down to less than two rounds, but we all knew that was the system in effect (the Countdown), so you heard no grumbling. However, Mike Edwards has nearly eaten up Jeg’s entire points lead solely with these new qualifying bonus points in only two races. If Edwards keeps up this pace, it means that Jeg will have to counter by winning more rounds than Mike for the remainder of the season, even though Jeg had a substantial lead going into Indy (which, by the way, he won). This new points system literally could take the championship from the most deserving driver/team! Second, and far more important as far as I am concerned, is that an unannounced, mid-season rules change that could determine the championship, and certainly will shake up the standings in the Top Ten. I have been an ardent NHRA supporter since I was seven years old, but I must be true to my own analysis of this issue.

Though I am vehemently opposed to this new system, I will do my best to put a good face on it. In fact, I am volunteering to work with NHRA (who implemented this change to both “deter testing during qualifying in order to make a better show for the fans” as well as to “provide extra excitement in the points chase”) to further stimulate this new points system. Throughout this blog I will give suggestions on bonus points and how they can be awarded; let me know what you think (don’t really let me know … just have fun reading the blog!).

{GALLERY_charlotte}Hold on, I need to come down off my soapbox so I can get myself back into “blogging mode”. Okay, I think I’m ready/ Llet’s pick back up in Charlotte, though by now I’m sure you know that we runner-upped last weekend in Dallas, and currently we are sitting in the pits in Memphis, having just pulled in this afternoon.

We were in town one day early for the Charlotte race, as I had an appearance at a local Lowe’s store on behalf of Mechanic’s Wear gloves. Actually, we took our MTS show car so we could show both the employees and customers what NHRA drag racing is all about. By all accounts, the display was a smash hit, and we may do a couple others to build excitement before some national events. I don’t know about you, but I definitely think NHRA should give me two points for that deal (someone needs to keep a running tally on this).

The following day I participated, along with Antron, John Force, Tony Shoe, and Ashley in the press conference for the race. I may be selling myself short, but I’m calling that one point, maybe 1 ½ (I’ll take whatever I can get).

From there I headed over to a local hotel to film some segments for NHRA’s end of the year DVD…one point.

We also made a trip to a local business in support of Cory Mac and Petey’s Promise, a group which takes care of needy animals. Good for the dogs and cats, one point for Jack (and Mac).

{GALLERY_charlotte2}Doug Herbert put on his annual BRAKES dinner and fundraiser to help educate young drivers on good choices behind the wheel, and Rodger and Karen Comstock bought an entire table to support Doug. Jenna is still pissed that I didn’t bid high enough on the puppy (her new goal in life is another child or a dog…I say “none of the above”), but Pro Stock Allen Johnson just did outbid me. OK, who the hell am I kidding? I wouldn’t bid $500 for something that’s gonna cost five grand to raise, and Alan paid Ten Grand, then gave the dog to Bruton’s daughter Anna Lisa! So, no dog, but I believe it would be fair to get one point for attending Doug’s very important function.

Oh, before I completely forget, the six Goodyear tires that I have purchased in the past few weeks fall under a little known “tires for support equipment” points bonus, and they’re good for one point EACH, so add six more to my tally.

Well, we didn’t defend our title at zMax Dragway, but at least we got a round win before we headed to Texas. Hey, even though we only had a few days to get to the “Big State” (I have no idea if anyone else refers to Texas that way, but it makes me sound intelligent {unless you live in Alaska I, guess}). Just one more Charlotte comment before we move this blog to the highway, and that is regarding the “four-wide” exhibition passes: WOW! Maybe the coolest thing I’ve ever seen at a dragstrip; we hung out in the stands with dozens of other crews and drivers and just marveled at the “bitchin’ factor” of those two passes.

{GALLERY_capitols}When we hit the road Monday morning (OK, you know better than that. It was more “lunchtime-ish” on Monday) we had a grandiose game-plan: We were going to cross several more state Capitols off our list, and we needed to be efficient to get it done. If life ran on my schedule, we could cruise on in to any of these buildings around 9 p.m., hang out a couple of hours, and then be on our way. The trick for us was making it to these towns, getting sleep in their local WalMart parking lot, getting up and getting all three of us on the road in the PT, and showing up somewhere before closing time. I have to say that lately we’re getting straight A’s in all categories.

From Charlotte (we saw the Raleigh, N.C., Capitol right before the race) we headed down to South Carolina and made our first stop in Columbia. I have to say that, being raised in Southern California, seeing some of the other areas in this country has provided some eye-opening moments of contemplation. For instance, I had always been educated on the Civil War (there’s an oxymoron if ever I heard) from the perspective of the Union. After all, history is written by the victors, not the vanquished. The South believed in slavery, one of the worst periods in this country’s history, and deserved to lose. But, after visiting many areas in the South and reading up on their history, pride, and beliefs, it appears that many of my conclusions were premature. That period in our history in so fascinating to me; how close our country came to being divided, and whether or not that would have been such a bad thing. If you go back to the Constitution, our country was set up to provide plenty of individual rights to each state, something that many of the Southern States were quick to point out as the reason for seceding from the Union. As big a hero as Lincoln is for preserving our United States, I suppose some in the South could rightfully think that he overextended his authority and started a war that resulted in more than half-million Americans dying…too much responsibility for me, and incredibly interesting debate material. Anyway, we spent Monday in S.C. checking out some Southern history.

Tuesday we got even more ambitious, planning out two Capitol visits in one day. Though I had visited Atlanta last year, I only was able to spend about 20 minutes there, as I was between appearances for the race. Jenna had yet to see Georgia’s State House, so we booked on down and checked it out. From there it was back in the RV, put the compass on “West”, and leg it to Alabama. Montgomery was next on our World Tour ’09, and it was worth the stop. I should note here that if we are counting Capitol visits, there are a couple ways of doing it. I suppose the absolute count is that of the current State Houses, so I’ll stick with that. However, many states still possess older Capitols that are still open for tours, or have been converted to museums. In many states we have visited more than one Capitol, and I think that deserves a few bonus points from NHRA!

From Alabama, we just kept heading towards Texas. Of the 1,100 or so miles that we travelled from race to race, I would conservatively estimate that it rained for 700 of them. Occasionally drizzle, and at times so hard we had to slow down to 35 just to be able to see, you’d have thought that at least the RV and PT would get clean, but I later had to do a double-wash on both of them just to see what color they were!

We weren’t about to let Mississippi escape our State House visits, so Jackson became the next destination for the Beckman clan. This was one of those states with an “old” and “new” Capitol, so we spent extra time sightseeing. Mississippi’s newer Capitol ranks right up at the top of my list…very impressive.

{GALLERY_goats}Let me cover our arrival in Texas before I pass out right now, and this will get me close to caught up with the blogs: We pulled in and parked at the Motorplex Thursday. The rains that we had driven through for the past few days had obviously been through Texas, and the campground area was a mess. We saw no less than three people who had buried their car/truck/trailer up to the axle pulling into the site. Once we parked, we headed up to Arlington to see my dad and Teri. My dad’s newest gig is goat ranching…sort of. I’m really not quite sure why he likes goats so much, but lately he could be considered “the goat whisperer” of Texas. Yep, my dad is into “goat-power” lately, and he has “kids” spread around the state. We went a few miles from his and Teri’s house to see the local flock (gaggle, pod, swarm, pride, pack, school, murder, group, herd, flight, drove…you get the picture) of goats, plus a donkey named –get this - “Fast Jack”. I can’t make this stuff up! After that it was off to the annual “Bob surprises Jack” dinner at a cool hot-rod themed restaurant near Arlington. By the way, I think you’ll agree that incorporating photos of livestock into this blog should merit a bonus point or two.

At earlier mentioned, the race went very well for us, and hopefully it showed we are getting back to running up to our potential. I’ll include some photos from activities at the race in the next blog.

I’d love to write more, but tomorrow I need to be up early and I’m totally empty on creativity right now. However, having a donkey named after me surely gets me one more championship point!

Stay tuned. 

We packed up the RV, headed back over to our second favorite campsite (Wal-mart of course is number one. Oh, news flash: the new name is Walmart [forget the hyphen or you can’t sleep in their parking lot]) and plugged into the back of Schumacher Racing. I left Jenna and Jason in the RV and headed over to the MTS terminal in the trusty PT Cruiser. Upon exiting the 465 Freeway a couple of things became readily apparent: First, I had a flat tire. Second, I was all alone, and AAA wasn’t going to get me back on the road before I was due for my visit. So, I cried, screamed, kicked, and pouted, then pulled over, changed the tire, and got on my way again. The visit went well, and the next day I had two new tires installed. I’m pretty sure that they recognized me at the tire store, as they gave me the “two for the price of two” special… nice!

{GALLERY_jb928a}Wednesday we left Jason with EJ and Kelly Veenstra and hit the theatre for “date night.” Jenna had a date, but I still don’t do too well with the ladies (kidding, come on!). We wanted to hit the road and see some sights on our way to Charlotte, so Thursday seemed like the day to depart. Jason and I did our best to wash the PT and the motorhome. He really liked to use the soapy sponge on the spots that I just rinsed off, but he’s just too cute to worry about things like that. After that we headed back over to IRP (okay, technically it’s “ORP at Indy”) for more testing. No, we weren’t running the Funny Car, but crewman Joe Chrisman was there with his dad (who also happens to be Joe Chrisman) while he tested his “Pro Mod” car. I still love the sportsman racing, so it was cool hanging out for his two runs. Heck, I even got to back him up from the burnouts and pull him to the starting line. However, there was no way that I was wearing that “Blue Max” halter top and cutoff shorts (you’d have to have been around in the “old days”). Jenna and Jason hung out in the stands, and of course the little guy made a new friend, Kaeden.

On the road east, we tried to pack as much family fun as we could into our trip to North Carolina. We needed to be there by Monday night for a Tuesday appearance, but that gave us a couple of day’s leisure time. Stop one was the Louisville Slugger museum in Kentucky. This place actually also is the manufacturing plant for all of their bats, so we were able to observe all phases of the build (okay, we didn’t get to see them chop trees down, but you get my drift). Next we hit (okay, I went solo while Jenna took Jason to the local Discovery Museum for kids) the History museum to look at some cool old armor and weapons. I tried to borrow some of that medieval big-ass-blunderbuss-stuff to use on the rest of the Funny Car guys, but it was all locked up.

That night was the anniversary of 9/11, and there were many shows on TV relating to the tragic events. Warning: if you are a conspiracy-theorist, please skip to the next paragraph. Go on, you aren’t going to like what I say right now, so kindly avert your eyes from the upcoming text. Okay, now I can talk frankly: What happened on 9/11 is that some fanatical terrorists, using a flawed interpretation of Islam and the Koran, killed several thousand of our citizens in a well-planned and cowardly attack. Bush didn’t do it. The CIA didn’t do it. Ditto for the FBI, NSA, ATF, AAA, NAACP, and the BPOE. In fact, BVD, GM, the NRA, NHRA, TNT, ABC, and even the KKK had nothing to do with what happened. I suppose some folks use the conspiracy angle to cope with the enormity of the tragedy, but it’s a huge disservice to those who lost loved ones on that day. How would you feel if someone you knew was killed by a drunk driver, and some nut jobs out there wanted to blame it on a cruise missile attack ordered by the president? Anyway, before our “conspiracy” friends tune back in to this blog, may I suggest something to you: If you know any of these folks, understand that logic, reason, and common sense have no affect on them. They’ll believe what they chose to believe, irrespective of the overwhelming evidence and facts available to them. Don’t argue with them, but do encourage them to take their medication regularly. Now back to regularly scheduled blog:

{GALLERY_jb928b}After seeing where all the “bat-people” work, it was time to head deeper into Kentucky to see what else it had to offer. We found a charming RV park (yes, even better than the Wal-no hyphen-mart parking lot) just miles from all of the bourbon distilleries around Bardstown. We met some nice Kentucky folk (I believe that’s how you refer to Kentuckian’s nowadays), and Jason got to go on the see-saw with some new friends. The next day we went over to Evan Williams (he’s not a friend, it’s a Bourbon maker) and took the tour. Very enlightening. In fact, my wallet was en-“lightened” to the tune of $50 for some 18-year-old whiskey. I’ve never spent $50 on an 18-year-old in my life! At the end of the day, I’ll stick to my Jack Daniels and Coke… it lasts much longer and costs far less per headache. We then drove around old town Bardstown and admired all of the houses and buildings that dated back as far as the late 18th century (which, confusingly enough, means the 1700s). After that it was off to the local train museum for the little man, and then it was time for the annual New Haven parade/car show. Call it fortuitous timing on our part, but we found ourselves at the tail end of one of the slowest “parades” in history. Seeing as that we had no choice (unless we could train the PT to fly like “Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang”), we got out and met the alderman/chancellor/councilman/mayor-pro-tem/head cheese dude and his horse. When the line finally started moving again, we had a great view of three horses’ asses for about a quarter of a mile, then we were free once more.

Now it was time to find out more about our 16th President, the guy on the penny (and the dollar bill, like the ones taped to the front of our awning in the pits. Fans ask all the time, and the answer is that we like to let Abe ride during qualifying against Wilky, Tasca, and a couple others). We set off to admire the boyhood home of Abraham (the President, not the guy in the bible), but were left a bit “flat” after learning that it, too (like the farm his father Thomas lived on), isn’t the original log cabin, but a semi-reasonable facsimile. Our Lincoln fascination next took us just down the road to the birthplace of the legend. This place really DID feature the original log cabin… sort of. Just after the turn of the 20th century (still confusing, but that means the 1900s) a memorial was placed near the original Lincoln homestead, and the cabin (which had long ago been disassembled and shipped around the country for fairs and displays) was reassembled inside. Except the dimensions were off, so the cabin had to be trimmed down, which was an enormous travesty. Until they found out recently that the wood was 40 years too new to be the actual Lincoln birthplace, so there you go with the enigmatic life of the young Abe Lincoln.

By the way, Lincoln’s assassination predates the CIA, FBI, KGB, the “Mafia,” and George Bush, so you conspiracy types need not assign undo blame onto these entities. Besides, we all know that he was killed by aliens.

{GALLERY_jb928c}Once we had our fill of bourbon, see-saws, old houses, and Abe’s un-authenticated abodes, we packed up again and hit the road for North Carolina. We were making such good time that we decided to add Raleigh to our list of Capitol visits before getting to Charlotte. Adding to our luck was the fact that this Capitol was open on Sundays… what a sublime occurrence for us! So there we are, motoring down the highway, singing old camp songs and strumming on the ukulele, wondering what other good fortunes were in store for us when we suddenly heard a noise. This was very much like a cross between the sound of your wallet opening, and the subconscious moan that escapes one’s lips when the cell phone bill comes in after a month on the road. Turns out it was neither; just a flat inner dual tire! After searching our GPS, road exit books, the internet, and four psychic hotlines, we started making phone calls. And more phone calls. Not that getting a 22 ½ inch tire on Sunday would be considered easy in and of itself, but we had that added little bonus of using an “80 series” (Latin for “more expensive”) tire, like most big RVs. Turns out those aren’t available on Sunday unless your last name is Trump… or Lincoln. Besides, why ruin our plans to see Raleigh on such a nice day? So… we limped (French for “drove at 35 mph”) into Greensboro, left the RV at a (stop me if you’ve heard this) “store previously known as Wal-Mart,” loaded the ukulele (we really don’t have one of those, but we did buy Jason a kazoo at Cracker Barrel), and headed off in the PT. Upon returning to the motorhome that afternoon I did some serious risk-calculation/road damage avoidance forecasting (I flipped a coin) and decided we didn’t have any options in Greensboro on Sunday, so we proceeded (at the aforementioned break-neck speed of 35 mph) all the way to Concord, home of zMax Dragway. You can do the math, but 85 miles at 35 mph equals one long-ass, boring trip. It felt as though I could get out and run alongside the motorhome, but the flat stayed together (my fear is that it would separate the tread and rip out the floor if we went too fast), and we made it.

Monday we pulled into the campground there on site, thanks to our friends at zMax. We then found our local Goodyear dealer and dropped the rig off for new shoes. With 80,000 miles on the rears (I replaced the fronts last year), combined with a fortuitous factory rebate, it didn’t make sense to not replace all four. Until I saw the $2,024 invoice… for tires… not for a race car. The upside is we should be getting our $320 rebate soon; the bad news is the $1,704 is more money than I paid for my El Camino. Hopefully we’re good for another 80,000 miles.

Whilst the RV was getting pampered, we took Jason to the local air museum. You know, the one that is closed on Mondays. So we took him to the airport overlook and watched the commercial planes take off and land. We also watched a hawk eat a mouse. Pretty cool if you’re a bird lover, not so neat if you’re a fan of mice. On the way back to retrieve the RV, Jason spied a playground, so we were obligated to stop and indulge him. That boy is a swinger, a slider, and loves to do that monkey-bar thing. He also loves the girls, loves to hug, and isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he poops himself in public. Was life really ever that easy for the rest of us?

Stay tuned… we’ll continue to catch up and try to get that next Wally.

Just your standard 8000 horsepower blender, making up a serving of aluminum-flavored Valvoline with a splash of piston.

With rain falling at times throughout the weekend, we lost one qualifying run Sunday. That still gave everyone four shots at the track and, though we improved on our third and fourth runs, getting behind early cost us dearly. Run one netted us a burned piston, melted cylinder head combustion chamber and deck, and a mid-4.20 run.

We knew that we could really step up for run two, which was Saturday afternoon. What we didn’t know is that our crankshaft developed a severe aluminum allergy on that run, shedding all eight connecting rods in a mass of carnage. The fire was probably the biggest that I have experienced, but fortunately didn’t do much beyond charring some of the front wheelwell paint on our MTS body.

Run three, Saturday night, didn’t give us the timeslip that we had hoped for, resulting in a 4.18. However, that really doesn’t tell the entire story: After hurting the motor twice in a row, we had to do some soul-searching. Run one went bad due to a faulty ignition component, but run two was more of a mystery. We suspect that we just were too aggressive with the “compression ratio” of our motor, so we had no option but to “back it down” for that third session. Also, the fact that the crew was able to patch the body, clean oil off of everything, check all the wiring, computer cabling, brake system, hoses, etc., AND give me a safe and fast car the next run was validation that I have the greatest group of mechanics around…looking after me!

For the last session, we were in a bit of a quandary: not being in the top 12 going into the final day of qualifying meant that our previous runs basically were thrown out. With a bump of 4.29, we knew we shouldn’t have any problem qualifying. However, we couldn’t afford to be overly aggressive to try to get into the top half of the field but risk smoking the tires. We ran a conservative 4.16 that landed us No. 14, but again we had to race a fast car first round and it bit us. From here on out, we intend to be the ones who do the biting!

David probably doesn't have many "successful clients" who want to document their visit on film.

Fortunately, there was plenty of action taking place OFF the racetrack during the event. For one, I again (it happened in Gainesville earlier this year) was selected for the random drug testing that NHRA performs. This time I was on a first-name basis with the good folks over in the lab trailer, and we had a little fun with my screening. After filling out the paperwork, it was time to visit David for my breath-a-lyzer test. No problem…I blew a perfect .000! I was so proud of myself that I insisted that David and I pose next to the tester for a commemorative photo. Like he had a choice! I’m just thankful that he told me what that machine was used for before I tried to pee in it…that probably wouldn’t have gone well for me! The “ladies of the lab” were equally as friendly, and very professional. They nixed the idea of us all drinking apple juice from specimen containers for our group photo, as they thought it wouldn’t portray their objectivity. In fact, they were so nice that it made me wish that I had washed my hands after “donating” to their cause! (You do know that I’m kidding, right?).

{GALLERY_jbindy}My good friends Eric Gates and Chris Stock came out. We all raced brackets, SCEDA, and Super Comp together, and this was Eric’s first Indy trip in more than 20 years. John Gates, Eric’s father, passed away right before the Finals last year, and we wanted to do a small tribute to a man who absolutely lived drag racing for decades. John had brought Eric to Indy many times, and this seemed to be the best place to have our own memorial for a great friend and father.

Ron Deering, who served with me in the Air Force back when planes were made of wood, came out from Kentucky. I hadn’t seen him since February 4, 1988…the day I drove out the gates of Cannon Air Force Base and headed back home to Los Angeles. Thanks to Mike Neff, I had plenty of time to hang out with Ron and talk about how fast the last 21 years have gone by.

My dad flew out for this race and stayed at the house of our bestest UPS pilot friend, Greg Mabe. Greg was a student years ago at the Hawley School, and little did he know how much that little trip would eventually cost him! Brent and Staci Cannon came out (Brad was sick and stayed home. I think he had girls over while his folks were out of town.), and all of us got to hang out. Walt Rhoades was in town, and we spent a lot of time at his daughter Kelly and son-in-law EJ Veenstra’s house. EJ works on Neff’s car, so I sure hope he didn’t slip anything into my dinner just because we had to race them first round! They even baby-sat Jason while Jenna and I got to go enjoy a movie, and Kelly gave Jenna a quick hair-trimming (Jason and I get the clippers…we’re low-maintenance!) 

That catches up on all our goings-on up until the end of “the race”, so stay tuned for my soon-to-be-coming, post-Indy, not-to-be-delayed-again blog. I’ll do my best to make it worth your while!
 

{GALLERY_bb915a}Everyone knows that LA traffic is legendary (not for good reasons) and that the worst of it is Monday morning and Friday afternoon. Just to show how unaffected I can be by sound judgment (did you know that “judgement” would also be an acceptable spelling?), we hit the road at 5:06 p.m. Friday for our 2,100-mile journey. Truth be told, I had just flown back from our test session in Indy on Thursday, so it wasn’t completely out of laziness that our start was delayed. Having the luxury of four or five days to get to Indy also meant that we would not have to beat ourselves up, driving all day to get there in time. In fact, our idea was to make as fun a trip as possible out of this, and I believe we did all right. The tough part is trying to figure out what is worth seeing (keeping in mind we have a 2-year-old) and scheduling our driving accordingly.

We covered well over 1,000 miles in the first two days, and Amarillo, Texas, is where we officially put our tourist caps on (okay, that really was an improper use of “officially,” but bear with me). Jason really loves his “Discovery” museums, and this one was no different. Besides the great memories that we are capturing on the camera and in our minds, I think these excursions are so enlightening for the little guy, and he just soaks up the knowledge.

{GALLERY_bb915b}Pretty soon I am going to need to tally up all of the State Capitols that we have visited. I’ll need to go back in my past blogs and start a list. Jenna and I already made the mistake of stopping for the second time in Cheyenne, and that place hadn’t changed one bit since we saw it the year before! I know I’m right around the 25 mark, and Jenna has been to all with me except Topeka, Atlanta, and D.C. Since we both were positive we hadn’t been to the State House in Missouri, Jefferson City became our next destination. Cross one more off of the list (whoever has “the list”)!

After scouring the map for something else to do while passing through Illinois, Jenna came across “the Lincoln house,” and that sounded fine to me. A bit out of the way, and a couple of roads that weren’t totally “motorhome friendly,” it still was a nice tangent for us. After all, getting to see the log cabin where Abe Lincoln lived is truly a piece of history, so count me in! However, it turns out that this is where Thomas Lincoln (Abe’s dad) lived AFTER Abe had struck out (not to be confused with 3 strikes in baseball… I mean that Abe left home to start his adult life) on his own. Hmmm… still, to see an authentic log cabin where Abe’s parents, at least his real father (and his stepmother), once lived and Abe visited would be a great slice of Americana. Oops, turns out this is a re-creation of that cabin, from around 1891 — well after Abe died — but it really still is worth going out to see the great job the park service has done with it.

The next day we pulled into the DSR shop parking lot and set up camp for the next couple of days. Unless you use campgrounds frequently, one concern with travelling in an RV is budgeting your water consumption. With Indy being longer than any other race, we waited a couple of days before Barry and Chris (my NHRA buds) parked us in the oval track infield. Running out of water, or overflowing the grey storage tank (not to even mention the “black” tank) won’t endear you to your camping neighbors, and I like a long, hot shower to get all the clutch dust off of me!

Try to keep this group's attention for more than 10 minutes!

I felt like Santa with an entourage.

Shelly and her husband. I own the kid and drive the car.

At the Riley's hospital. Tell me this wouldn't change your outlook on the day!

At the DSR open house. Friendly crowd, but it could be that they just like having their picture taken!

My first “appearance” of the Indy week was at a local Boy’s and Girl’s Club on behalf of a group called Racer’s Who Care. I have gone to several schools, hospitals, and clubs to spread their positive messages about life, choices, and keeping enough fresh water in your RV (kidding on that last one). Jenna and Jason tagged along for this one, and Jason thought the whole group was there for him to play with. All the little girls wanted to hold him when I was done talking, but none of the big girls would hold me! There were kids aged 5 to 15 in this group, which made it tough. I typically tailor my speech to the age of the audience. The younger ones want to know what it’s like to be on fire, how many times I have crashed, what my gloves and helmet look like, and how much fresh water my motorhome carries. For the older teens, we can talk more about choices in life, peer pressure, and the holding tank capacity on Cory Mac’s bus. Whenever I address a group that encompasses multiple age ranges I just have to “wing it” and try to keep them interested.

That night NHRA hosted a big Fan Fest and autograph session at Champp’s (That’s how they spell it) closer to downtown Indy. We had a Valvoline show car on display (as well as an Army dragster), and many Pro drivers were on hand. This may have been one of those events where the number of drivers came close to outpacing the fan count! Perhaps they shouldn’t have opened the bar so early.

Thursday morning I was given a gift from my friend Cory Mac. His fiancée, Debi Dixon, is a nurse who performs house calls for some patients, and one in particular needed a little boost. Cory asked if I would accompany him to visit Caroline Symmes, who, at age 4, has undergone more than most adults could fathom. After a relapse from her previous treatments, she was given a bone marrow transplant several months ago, and she still is far from out of the woods. Please check out Cory’s blog from 9/4 to see this beautiful little girl who was allowed outside (having to wear a mask to filter potential life-threatening germs) for the first time in quite awhile when we showed up. Her brother and sister — one and two years younger than Caroline — really love her, and I doubt they understand the gravity of her situation. Her mother and grandmother were there during our visit, and it’s so tough (as a parent myself) to see what these folks are enduring. Please check out Cory’s blog. He and I wore those bracelets all weekend long in support of Caroline. Thank God they’re fireproof!

Thursday evening we did our yearly DSR Riley Children’s hospital visit. Ron, Tony, and Matt Hagan took the Pulmonary/Surgical wing, and Cory, Matt Smith, and I took the cancer wing. We visited patients 11 months to 19 years old, talking with family members, parents, and friends during our stay. One of the rules of visiting these patients is that each visitor must sanitize their hands after every room. My hands never have been so smooth, supple, and sanitary, though I must confess that twice I hit the soap dispenser instead of the dry sanitizer. Cory busted my chops the entire time, but I got even when I got to tune his car for the second round race with Bernstein (I’m kidding, Todd Okuhara won’t let me anywhere near the Fram car. In case you don’t get the joke, Cory had a big fire that pass).

Friday was hectic but not because of the number of runs. Indy and Pomona are the only races where we get only one run on Friday, which feels very odd when you are used to the pace of two. That morning I got up early (for me) to participate in the Army/YES program and speak to area high school students. From there I headed over to our shop for the DSR open house. Not only was our place packed, but we did some great stuff for the Riley hospital. Our car show and live auction raised nearly $20,000 for research and development… very cool! In addition to Tony’s Top Fuel helmet, we auctioned “honorary crewmember” passes for each team. The winners were able to ride with us in the tow vehicles, get a tour of the pits, and spend time hanging out between runs. DSR does so much great stuff for so many places, and it’s beyond rewarding to be able to work for such a company.

From the open house it was straight back to the track to attend to PRO meeting. They keep us up to speed on the latest goings-on in the NHRA world, like this new bonus points system for qualifying and the national record reactivation that will begin with the Charlotte race. From there it was back to the pits to warm up our Mail Terminal Services/Valvoline hot rod for a run at an Indy trophy… which didn’t quite pan out for us.

At least the motorhome water didn’t run dry!

Stay tuned.

Maple Grove was a big disappointment for our team, losing in round one after smoking the tires against Jerry Toliver and the team Dunn car. After qualifying 3rd, our highest starting position of the year, we had high hopes of winning the race, but we just had too much power for the hotter racetrack Sunday. With qualifying limited to one pass each on Friday and Saturday -under conditions very unlike we saw Sunday morning- it was a challenging event for everyone. Bob Tasca moved ahead of us by winning, and now we are in a tight points battle with him and Tim Wilkerson for the fourth spot. Whoever goes the most rounds in Indy will lock the fourth spot, so we figure we’ll just win the race and make the math easy on everyone!

Wow, somewhere in Rawlings, Md. Ronnie and Lori are looking out for me!

Before I go much further, let me tell you about an offer you can’t refuse (no, it’s not a sale on Sham Wow, though Lee Beard thought a huge roll of that stuff would have helped with the water issues at the track). We did an identical promo for you readers when our diecast of the Valvoline car was released, so now that the MTS version is in stock you guys get first crack, and can save 50 percent. What you need to do is go to the DSR website (shoeracing.com), and enter “DSR-JACK” in the coupon code box after ordering the car. It’s that easy! This will be good for one week from the posting of the blog.

The upside of Maple Grove was having so many of the Maryland family in attendance. The downside is they only got to see us make one run on Sunday, but I did hang out in the stands for the rest of eliminations with them. Heck, my flight out wasn’t until Monday, so it was a great opportunity to spend time with them and enjoy some nitro racing from a fan’s viewpoint. Last year we won the race, and I had to go 80 mph all the way to the airport just to make my flight. This year Jenna gave me a cushion by scheduling my flight out the next day, and look what happens!

My weekend wasn’t totally without incident: After flying into Philadelphia Thursday night at 11:30 p.m., picking up my rental car, and heading out for the 90 minute drive to my hotel, “incident” struck. I hit something in the road not more than five miles from the airport, actually bending the rim and causing a flat tire. By the time I got a tow truck, a lift back to the airport, filled out the necessary paperwork, and got another rental car, it was nearly 3 am before I got to my room. Fun stuff!

Something about being naked in a towel makes guys want to kiss the ladies!

Getting up at 2:40 Monday morning to head back to Philly also didn’t rank high on my “fun meter”, but I was anxious to get back home. I remember a time when I actually could sleep on an airplane without my neck and back hurting from contorting my 6 foot frame into 4 feet of seat ... could I actually be getting bigger? Anyway, I arrived home around noon and was picked up by Jenna and Jason at the airport in Ontario. It’s so much easier than LAX: less traffic, less security line, less parking fees, and less hassle getting there.

Knowing that I had to fly out the following day (for the test session in Indy), I tried to make the most of my time with the family. Jason wanted to go swimming in his little pool, so we hung out while Jenna did the shopping. Poor Jason just faced the same fate that my hair has gotten accustomed to...the “home haircut”! His long curly locks are so cute, but he was starting to get that homeless person look (no offense to anyone who is homeless, though I doubt they’d be reading my blog). He looks so much older with his shorter “doo”, and he is talking so well now. He’s nearly 2 ½, and each day I see less of my “baby” and more of my “little man”. I do my best to treasure each moment. Holding his hand while he walks up the stairs is so much more time than just carrying him or letting him go by himself, but I know these are the memories that will be irreplaceable. I also know that one day soon he won’t ever need my help again to climb those stairs.

I had mentioned testing in Indy, and I was on another plane Tuesday to head back for that. Many nitro teams took advantage of the Wednesday test, and we made four runs with some new engine parts. The first was a planned halftrack run that gave us some good numbers. We smoked the tires at 100 feet on the second run, and we pulled out of the burnout box for what was to be our third run when it looked like the track was getting bad. When we did go back up, we ran a 4.26 on a track that was 121 degrees, which is a very nice run in those conditions. Our last run, made at 9:15 p.m., resulted in smoke at 375 feet. Still, we now have a good idea what to start the Indy “marathon” with. With two night sessions, it will be critical to run well on at least one of those to get a good qualifying position.

Thursday morning I was (you guessed it) back on a plane heading home. We spent most of the day yesterday preparing for our trip back to Indy in the motorhome. We cleaned, loaded, shopped, packed, and sang show tunes (kidding about the singing, just making sure you’re still paying attention).

Well, I hear my baby waking up right now (it’s Friday morning), so I’ll need to wrap this up so we can head east. I’d sure like to have an Indy trophy of my own by Labor Day!

Stay tuned. 
 

No, that’s not the title of some new movie about Greek fighters getting their butts handed to them by the Persians, that’s just the amount of seconds in four hours, which is about how long it takes me to write each blog.

No, it’s not that I type slowly, either; it takes roughly 240 minutes to review the photos I have (which is the only way I can remember some of what I did since my last entry), jot down some notes, write the story, re-read, edit and do spell-check, and then send it-- along with all of the photos -- over to NHRA.com.

It can take much longer when this piece of s#$! Internet service decides to take a sabbatical in the middle of checking e-mails (oops, it sounds like I’m venting over something as trivial as expecting decent performance from a phone-company product ... silly me!).

This effort needs to be shorter. I’m just not feeling the impulse to stay up until 4 a.m. in an effort to amuse, so I’ll write even quicker this time;

Our official move-in day was Aug. 1, but we got a one-day jump on things, thanks to the Cannon family. Brent and Brad showed up on Friday to our “old” house in North Hills, and we loaded up my first car (and first race car) on their trailer.

Then I thought, heck, as long as we’re all making the drive out there, why not just pack my Nissan pickup with every Valvoline product that I own and take it as well? So, we did a small caravan out there, with Jenna and Jason in the PT Cruiser as our “chase vehicle.” Yeah, we loaded that full of stuff, too.

Saturday I went and picked up the 26-foot moving van and got it situated in the street in front of the old house. Eric McDonald showed up at 10:30 and we started shoveling stuff into the truck. Jenna and Cindy continued to pack boxes whilst the sweat began to drip down my brow (just where is the brow located, anyway?).

The cavalry horn must have sounded, as the reinforcements began to arrive in force (two of them, anyway). Andy Montgomery (of the famed Twin Palms RV Storage) decided he had nothing better to do with his Saturday, and my brother Ted wanted to see if I was throwing anything valuable away. Poor Andy, he even let us pack his Suburban with all of the electronics and delicate objects (no, I don’t count as a delicate object) and he made the 83-mile trek out to Norco for us. I can’t wait until I receive his fuel invoice!

We loaded everything out of the house (with the exception of the weight room) and a whole lot of the garage items before we left. Heck, we had a two-day rental on this truck and it already looked as though we were 70 percent done ... piece of cake!

Once we left North Hills, Eric was dismissed for the day. Actually, I’m not sure that I didn’t work him to the point where it violated some labor laws. I conned my brother into riding out with me, promising him he could drive the Nissan back to the Valley that night. Besides, he had yet to see the new place (now I’m pretty sure he won’t want to come back until he knows we are ENTIRELY unpacked). The “Norco crew” consisted of the Cannon family, Bob Smith (not just any Bob Smith, mind you, but my buddy from the races who is just far too nice and really good at moving stuff. Anyone who owns their own furniture moving dollies is an expert, if you ask me), Mike English (not just any Mike English, but the very same one who announces for the NHRA. And, because Bob Frey and Alan Reinhardt both said they were busy that day, Mike was the only announcer we could find), and Andy Montgomery. Andy was given his pardon and released once he unloaded his Suburban, signed an affidavit that nothing was damaged, and promised never to sue us for friendship abuse.

{GALLERY_jb1}This is where two story houses really suck. Furniture magically gets bigger, AND heavier when moving it upstairs. Fortunately, with all of the great help, we were able to unload fairly quickly. So Cindy, Jenna, Bob, and brother Ted stayed in Norco to set things in place while Brent, Brad, and I headed over to Cindy’s house in Fontana. Confused yet? Well, we had previously rented a 16-foot truck and taken LOTS of things over to Cindy’s garage in order to unclutter our house for the realty showings. Anyway, the three of us really hauled butt and got everything loaded and back to the Norco house.

By now the entire crew was pretty worn out, but somebody suggested that we unload this new cargo before eating! (The nerve of some folks!). So we did it ... much slower than the first load. It was then that Jenna suggested that Ted just spend the night and ride back with me in the moving van the following day (Sunday). Made sense ... if you’re a masochist.

Poor Ted. We headed back to North Hills Sunday morning to finish up the “little load” that awaited us. Problem is, nothing that was left was packed in boxes (it was all bulky items, oversize pieces, and car parts that were too heavy to box. And, it must have swelled up since we left it the night before, as it completely filled the 26-foot truck, AGAIN.

{GALLERY_jb2}The last items to be loaded were from the weight room. I’ll tell you, after three days of moving, those 80-pound dumbbells never felt so heavy. What we thought would take 3 hours, max., wound up being 6 ½ hours of torture. The optimist in me even “called off” our cousin Jason that morning, as I know he has a full plate right now (he and Stephanie are expecting) and would be stuck on the freeway for quite a while. Besides, I thought, how long could this small amount of stuff really take? Once we finished and I dropped Ted at his house and headed back to Norco, it now was past midnight, I had a truck packed with VERY heavy objects, no one to help, and needed to have it back by 9:30 am Monday. That’s when reality set in:

Monday, while I finished wiping the tears from my eyes after calling the rental company to extend the truck for a day, Brent, Staci, and Brad Cannon came to the rescue once again. They helped me make short work of unloading (who the hell am I kidding ... all three of us were wiped out, longing for some Ben-Gay, and sweating more than a kleptomaniac in confession). The point is, we got it done, and I would have been there another week if by myself. Thanks to all of you guys (and gals) for the hard work!

Later that week (I think I blanked out for the next couple of days), I headed to downtown L.A. and the Petersen Auto Museum to do an appearance (is that term truly correct when it’s a radio, not TV, show? Technically only my voice needed to be present, but I guess we can still call it an “appearance”) on the Speed Freaks radio show. I have known this group since the beginning of their show, and it’s always a blast hanging out with them. Chris Jacobs, who hosted the Overhaulin’ show with Chip Foose, was also on hand, as well as Kenny, Crash, and Stat-Man (not to be confused with Lewis Bloom).

The next day we (the Beckmans) made the 83-mile trip back to our old home to do the final walk through and meet the new owner for the first time. It was sort of melancholy for me, as I had lived there nearly 17 years. I don’t think Jenna minded much, as she already has her sights set on sprucing up the new house. I took a shot of Jenna and Jason on the front porch, and there’s one of me holding him in the front yard by the planted-last-year plumb tree. One day perhaps I’ll take him back there and we can get another shot of a much bigger tree (and child). Maybe I’m getting sentimental, but I think these shots will mean a lot to him one day (I know they will for Jenna and me).

The following day I was going to head over to Fontana and hang out with many of my racing buddies for a couple of hours, but tragedy struck. Ronnie Marcum, whom I have known since I began racing, was killed in a freak pit accident in his dragster. I couldn’t even begin to put into words what a loss this was, and how badly we all feel for his daughters and those who witnessed the accident. It just put such a hole in so many of our hearts, and I’d like to send my condolences to all who knew him (and certainly would have loved him).

On a more positive note, the next day half of the track came over to the new house (okay, I’m exaggerating just a bit). Tom Bayer runs a very successful rental car program, and the clientele is almost exclusively students that we taught at the Hawley School. This weekend he had Tim Takeshita, Les Matsukado, and Randy Beck in his cars. They, along with their entourages, all came over for pizza and beer. Heck, we even invited Gary Beck along just so he wouldn’t be left all alone. Be honest, how many of you that are hard core fans of the sport would ever dream that Gary Beck would come hang out with you at home? (I believe that, for a nominal fee, I may be able to make that happen for you ... just send your cash deposit and list of preferred dates). Not only did he bring much of his family (and cheering section), but he didn’t make it out of my house with his shirt! I gladly traded him my National DRAGSTER Tee for his Gary Beck shirt ... way too cool!

{GALLERY_jb3}Sunday night I flew out to Norwalk. No, I wasn’t there to bask in the glory of my most recent win, I had work to do. I hadn’t instructed a class for Frank (Hawley) since last year, but this was a nice opportunity to fill in while Frank was out of town. I really enjoyed this group, and we did our best to dodge rain drops in order to finish the class. It was a satisfying feeling to be back in “instructor mode” for a couple of days, and I made 22 new friends.

Back home, it was right back on house duty. Once I got shelves up in all five closets, it was on to toilet tasks (no, not what you may be thinking). Of the four crappers in our abode, two were on the fritz (just who the heck is Fritz, and how did his name get such a negative connotation?). After having two plumbers come out and remove nothing more than $165 from my wallet, I decided to have a go at it myself. 30 minutes, one wax ring, and one clothes hanger later, and it was fixed! Though I wasn’t able to retrieve the money that I think was “flushed down the drain” (roll with me, I’m getting tired), I did locate the missing toilet paper holder (and obviously the cause of the flushing problem). Sure glad I paid a professional to auger and snake the plumbing, but he was right about one thing: had I paid him another $250 to install a toilet to replace our “defective unit," it too would have fixed the problem! I did it for $3.75 worth of wax. The other unit needed a new gasket and flapper and is now ready to be test driven (I’m just waiting on my next issue of National DRAGSTER to arrive).

{GALLERY_jb4}Brainerd was good, but I wish it was great. We have a great running car right now, and I think we are ready to win another race REAL soon. The guys have been doing a phenomenal job, and I really want to get them back in that winner’s circle right away.

“The Zoo” was as fun as ever. Some of the guys and I ventured in Friday night for about an hour. We saw the good, the bad, and the ugly...and everything in-between. If you don’t believe me, I have the pictures to prove it!

Ted Flanders, whom I met at this race last year, came and hung out for two days with us. Ted takes care of my Web site, GoFastJack.com, and does a great job. Saturday he brought his friend, Al, and Sunday his daughter, Jos, came along. They all are just super people, and it was cool to finally get to spend some time chatting with him face to face. No offense, but I can only type so fast, so e-mailing everything back and forth to Ted has its limitations.

Speaking of typing (and limitations), it’s been nearly 6,500 seconds since I started this, and there’s still lots to do before it’s done and sent. Stay tuned!

Enlightenment: If not feeling good for over four weeks, go to the doctor (especially with a past history of cancer). I did that on Wednesday, the day before leaving for Seattle. The good doctor Spencer (the guy with the long fingers) called me Thursday to let me know that my chest X-ray looked awesome, much like someone with pneumonia! No wonder I felt so crappy since Norwalk! Five days of antibiotics and I’m much better, probably 98 percent (okay, I just randomly picked that number, it’s probably closer to 87 percent).

{GALLERY_jb1}Other than that, Seattle was entertaining and stressful. Qualifying 14th (and really struggling to find our sea-level combo) really had us feeling painted into a corner going against teammate Matt Hagan first round. Those guys had run great in qualifying, and I really thought we might be in over our heads. In a dual tire-smoker, we were able to get the win light, but I really hope that the Shelor.com team and Matt are able to rally and get into the Countdown program. Round two we ran into that NAPA buzz saw (again) and were parked for the weekend.

Rodger and Karen both raced and though Karen chased what eventually turned out to be a loose distributor, Rodger kicked some butt and went five rounds in Super Comp. I’d like to think it was partly because of my help, but I think that’s why he ONLY went five rounds! It was a blast getting to hang out with the Sportsman racers and work on their cars. My guys won’t let me touch much (other than wiping the car and changing my visors) on our hotrod, so getting dirty -- like the good old days -- was very enjoyable.

The Cacklefest was again spectacular. Thank Steve Gibbs if you’ve ever seen this amazing display of vintage iron, replete with push starts and gas masks. I stood like a kid in a candy store on half-price day. Enlightenment: Safety has come a LONG way since the 1960’s...those guys were iron men back in the day!

I met another cancer friend: Steve Keller, whose brother David had e-mailed me, is going through pancreatic cancer and has one of the most supportive families I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Steve got to ride with us on Sunday and, though he screwed up the tune-up against Capps, we all forgave him. To say that I’ve been able to bond with some of the neatest humans on the planet is a big understatement, and hearing back from so many of you is heart warming. Hearing and reading about some of the thoughts that these folks share is as big a thrill as standing up in the winner’s circle at the end of the day. I have often wanted to run one of these letters in my blog, and Dave gave me the blessing to use his. Please know I didn’t do this as a “hooray, Jack” gesture, but only to show how awesome our sport is and how easy it is to help make someone’s day.

Hey Jack,

Well, it turns out that you were just the man I thought you’d be. A lot of people want to do things for others, but can’t seem to find the appropriate means to do so. A lot of people have the capacity and intentions to help others in need, but don’t. You have reached us all and taught us all a lesson that we will never forget. Love and compassion are meant to be shared with others. I now know how hard you guys work do this week in and week out. Traveling from coast to coast. Missing your families. Your home. It’s not just for the thrill of strapping yourself into a time bomb. Or, for going to the next round. It’s because you love the people you get to do this with. This comes through very clearly. And, Mr. Beckman, it shines brightly through your eyes. Your heart. And, your mind. I wasn’t reallay sure if Steve was physically up for his Big Day, but he gained strength throughout the day, and he left a better man for the experience. I know he will never forget what you have done for him, and he will always think of your successes both on the track and throughout your health adventure as he battles through what he calls his “Great Pancreas Adventure.” Jack, you were placed on this earth for a reason. How blessed you must feel everyday knowing that you make a difference in every one’s life that you touch. Good luck with your new home. Enjoy that precious boy of yours. Be lucky that you have the wife that has chosen you. And, good luck in Sonoma this week. You WILL have lots of people up here in Washington state sending you good thoughts.

Thanks to all of you at DSR! Unbelievable group of people.

Keep it in the groove, Jack.
 
Dave and Julie Keller

Rodger, Karen, and I also got to visit one of the most race team-supportive terminals of MTS while up in Seattle (the same can also be said for the Oakland/San Francisco terminal, which we went to the following week). Another highlight was having dinner with friend (and legend) Walt Rhoades and a group of friends while in the Pacific Northwest. Walt, driver of many vehicles (including the Freight Train), turns up at random events, as his truck-driving job has him criss-crossing the country.

{GALLERY_jb2}We had planned on taking the RV to Sonoma, but that didn’t work out. With trying to get the new house situated, doing the paperwork for the old house, and life in general, it just didn’t make sense to drag out the old Beaver (really, that’s the brand our motorhome is!) for one trip. Plus, I had lots of media things to do that would have left Jenna and Jason stuck in the RV in the pits. Thursday I flew into Sacramento and began with an NHRA luncheon that also featured Morgan Lucas, Shawn Langdon, and Katie Sullivan (Pro Stock Motorcycle). That evening was the annual Eric Medlen dinner in San Francisco, and the place was sold out once again. Combine that with the Ice Cream Social after the race on Sunday, and much tribute was paid to our departed friend. Fram, one of our DSR team sponsors and also the sponsor of the race, put on a great dinner Saturday night at a local winery. Matt Hagan, Tony Pedregon, Tony Schumacher, Cory Mac and I were all treated great and got to sit, eat, and mingle with many Fram customers and managers.

Though we qualified well (sixth), we got beat first round by what appears to be a resurgent Robert Hight team. We slipped to fifth in the standings after Wilky won for the second weekend in a row (talk about resurgence), and that battle for the final two spots in the Countdown is going to be a real nail-biter.

If you all are wondering what the dollars that are taped to our awning in the pits are for, I’ll explain: We like to have some fun in qualifying, so when we pull up next to Wilky, Arend, or Hagan, it’s game on. First one to the finish line wins the buck, and I brought Bob Tasca into the mix this weekend. Three times we ran each other, and I’m three dollars poorer! Bob even posted a shot of his newfound treasure on his Facebook page...gloating isn’t very nice, Bob!

{GALLERY_jb3}Perhaps the highlight of my Infineon weekend was having my friend Quinn Coppock come out Saturday and Sunday. We served together in the Air Force and hadn’t seen each other in about 15 years. Sunday he brought his wife, Audrey, her father, Allen, and their son, Logan. After losing first round we hung out in the stands and watched a couple of rounds of action.

We’ve made no less than five round trips (at 83 miles each way) out to the new house to get stuff done. It’s amazing how long it takes to do simple chores when you’re operating with a bucket full of tools and making trips to Home Depot. Throw in a 2-year-old to chase around, and a one-hour project can take three-plus (of course, that could have been said of me when I was single and working out of my garage!). The upside is that my education and enlightenment has been on warp-drive as of late: I’ve learned how the GE Monogram ice maker comes apart (and, fortunately, goes back together).

I’ve also learned (sort of) how the water dispenser system is supposed to work, and that the plastic tank can split, even just sitting, even after less than five years. I now also know that said part must be made of gold and shipped from Mars if ordered through GE (at least I’d assume that, what with the price they want to charge). My internet enlightenment saved me $25 for about 20 minutes of searching. I’ve learned that broken windows are cheap to replace, at least when looking at prospective homes. Turns out the cost goes up significantly once you purchase the house and find out that these newer windows also are made of gold.

I’ve learned that expansion joints, when properly placed, minimize or eliminate cracks in driveway add-ons. Conversely, natural expansion WILL induce cracking without them. Gee, and I thought that whomever poured that slab at the new house would have figured that out all on their own! I’ve been enlightened on the number of ceiling fans that can fit into one residence. Previously I thought that the answer was “one”, but I was way off. The correct response is “seven”, but the old owners were kind enough to leave us with just one. My education tells me that, through simple math, the remainder is “six”, which is the number of fans we purchased through Costco and I now am an expert on installing.

{GALLERY_jb4}I have been enlightened to the fact that everything can be remote controlled, including six new ceiling fans, but they all must be programmed differently to avoid cross-control issues. I wonder if the universal remote control companies thought about that when making those jumbo units for all your electronics. I am enlightened about garage door remotes as well, as those too were missing from the house. A mere $70 later and that issue is gone. Did I mention that several light fixtures were also taken from the house? Well, those are purchased, installed, and functioning just fine, thank you. All except for the fact that you actually have to flip a switch to activate them, as we couldn’t find any with remote control.

What else have I learned lately, you ask? Well, here are some ramblings that may help you one day: Don’t let your wife measure anything adjacent to the doorjamb, as the clearance there is just enough to get a standard tape measure stuck (hence the term “jamb”). Unsticking isn’t nearly as easy, requiring a surgeon’s touch, a small Allen wrench, and a regular screwdriver (it’s all I had for tools) and necessitated a replacement tape measure. I’ve learned that it’s easy to stack children’s building blocks at least 22 high, but good luck keeping the little one from knocking them over (and don’t get frustrated, it’s what they’re good at).

I’ve learned that US Airways has horrible customer service policies, and their reps actually think that you giving them a $300 credit from an unused flight, plus a $150 “change” fee for a $115 flight is a normal deal. I’ve learned not to try to help Verizon out by calling them two weeks in advance to terminate your residential phone service, as they’ll likely cancel it by mistake the next day, take 12 days to get it working again (two days before the original cancel date), never return any of your eight phone calls with “customer service agents” (the only word I believe in that title is “agent”, as they must be working for some enemy somewhere), and knock your FICO score down by making a “hard pull” (boy, did they give me a “hard pull” all right!) on your credit without permission. Other than that, we are just delighted with their performance. They did tell us they were authorized to offer us UP TO $25 for the inconvenience. I’d like to get that in pesos and take about 12 days bouncing them off the heads of all those bozos that screwed up royally. I’ve also learned that no matter how good looking I am, those safety goggles I was given following my Lasik procedure are NEVER going to look cool on me ... ever!

I have lots more to tell, but we are officially moving starting tomorrow morning (though we already have taken multiple loads to the new place) and the computer will be down for the day, plus I need rest.

Stay tuned. 
 

At the Gates/DSR dinner many awards were given out, including "best dressed" to the Oakley quadruplets. See if you can spot them.

Johnny, the "Extra Large Sunglass Patrol" called, and your citation is in the mail.

My buddies Jim and Andy from Twin Palms RV & Boat Storage finished 1-2 in the "thick moustache" contest. I wasn't even top 10, but I did get to crown both of them with their MTS hats!

How about this for a photo? OCIR in it's heyday, and look at the players in the lanes: Johnny Abbott (his grandson Chris is on our team), Jeb Allen (his son Troy is on our team), Raymond Beadle, and Lee Shepherd. If this is 1981, and I think it is, the three in the background all ended up as champs that year. Thanks to Tim Charlet for the pic.

I just had to run and get my camera when this guy came by the pits. This will begin my new "best T-shirt" contest, and so far he's in the lead.

Also a contender.

Jenni and Sue fought over me all weekend, but I'm still a married man.

My dad sent me home with two presents for Jason, and the little guy seemed to love them both. (No, that's not a hooka pipe)

I know there will come a day when my new backyard will have grass, the driveway will be all concreted, I won't be standing so straight, and my precious little child won't look so tiny and loveable!

I had another rewarding and busy weekend. I arrived at Denver Int’l Airport (which I think is located somewhere in Wyoming) and was picked up by Zak Elcock, a media relations ace with NHRA. We headed straight down (that’s south for those of you not familiar with map layouts) to Colorado Springs to do a newspaper and a TV news interview to promote the race (you know, the one that Capps won… again). From there, Zak took me back to Denver and dropped me off at the annual DSR/Gates Belts and Hose dinner. No, no, I don’t mean to say that we ate rubber and Kevlar for dinner, but we were hosted by one of the best sponsors in all of motorsports. We are always treated like family around all the Gates’ management and employees, and I hope we continue our relationship for many more years.

From dinner (mind you, I haven’t got a car yet and still have my luggage from the flight in) LuAnn Bishop from DSR whisked Matt Hagan and me off to Golden for the Mopar Block Party. I was actually a little glad to arrive late, as two years ago I, along with Scelzi, Alan Johnson, and Richie Stevens, were “volunteered” for a bathing suit contest and COLD water inner tube race. My testes still haven’t fully dropped from that experience! (Or maybe it’s the excessive G-Forces?).

My dad and Teri drove up from Dallas and spent the weekend, so they met me in Golden. Friend Peg Gorsky, who goes way back with Karen Comstock and was a huge help on our Mail from Home campaign last year, turned out to be my “Knight in shining armor.” She loaned me her car for the rest of the weekend, saving me many a long walk in Colorado. Just to pay her back, we let her volunteer to work the race for us again (hey, at least no cold water was involved). Peg also had her sons, Scott and John, assist the MTS employees throughout the event, and they did an outstanding job, collecting around 4,000 postcards for the troops… thanks, guys!

As we weren’t scheduled to run until 5:30 pm on Friday, it was nice to be able to sleep in… not. Apparently the good folks at Gates didn’t get their fill of us the night before, so Tony Schumacher, Cory Mac, and I were invited out to their headquarters building for coffee and autographs… early! VP Steve, one of the funniest guys I know (just ask his wife), and motorsports chief Jim, one of the nicest humans around, let us get up and speak to the employees and showed us around one of the most impressive company buildings I have ever seen. The exercise room on the first floor would put many professional gyms to shame. It was so clean I dared not touch any of the equipment (kind of what I’ve been doing with my weights lately).

The Mile-Highs was the first race in recent memory that scheduled two night sessions. With the crazy weather in Denver we didn’t even run the Friday night session until 11:15 at night, and the dragsters were even later. By the time the dust settled, we ended up number four with a great run that also held for top speed of the meet (despite the fact that buddy Paul Page gave that honor to Ashley during the coverage, I have the time slip to prove we did it). In fact, the DSR Funny Cars ended qualifying 1, 3, and 4. I certainly hope that trend continues down in sea level country, and it really would be nice if Mr. Capps would pass that No. 1 spot around to Matt and me once in a while.

In our ongoing musical-crewmember shuffle, Chris Abbott joined us at this race. Seems our contract calls for two Chris’ on the team, so the hiring process was pretty straightforward once we found him. His grandpa, John, was quite the terror around the Midwest during his Top Fuel career, and I finally got to meet him face to face.

Sunday was another ever-changing day for the crew chiefs as the sun, clouds, rain, and temperature didn’t stay constant long enough to have complete confidence in the tune-up. Still, we had low e.t. of race day on a monster second-round run (if you saw the coverage on ESPN, how about our car pulling the left front tire three times downtrack!). That dreaded Capps put an end to our race in the semi’s, where three long oil delays and the emergence of the sun spelled the demise of our aggressive clutch setup. Thinking that we didn’t have time to dive into the bellhousing and remove weight off of the levers, we tried to compensate for the higher track temp by slowing our clutch application, but all that did was put us further downtrack before we overpowered our lane.

Aside from another solid performance from the entire team, it was cool to see so many of you have bought our Valvoline diecast. That’s very humbling to me to get to sign quite a few for you fans, and the MTS car should be out on the souvenir trailer by Seattle. I already got it okayed through DSR to do another half-price special for you readers, and I will give you the details as soon as they give me the green light (or would that be the three amber lights?).

I have spoken to so many people with cancer and other serious illnesses these past few years, whether it be e-mail, a phone call, or at the races. It warms my heart that all of DSR is so supportive of our efforts to brighten people’s day. VP Mike Lewis has been instrumental in coordinating so many wonderful experiences, and we had another in Denver. Jenni is going through stage 4 (about as bad as it gets) breast cancer right now and attended the race with her son Cody and parents Bob and Sue (sounds like a boxer and a lawyer… get it?) We let Jenni and Sue tune the car for the first pass Friday, and, frankly, they stunk. Nice ladies but no future in the nitro tuning career field! Still, they got to ride in the Suburban, and we got to hang out and talk a whole bunch during the day. Great people in a tough position, and I want to thank my former students, the Andersons, for introducing us.

Thanks to that rude dismissal by my colleague Mr. Capps, I was able to hitch a ride with Karen Comstock and get to the airport plenty early to make my flight (thanks, Ron). I even got home at a reasonable hour Sunday night and got to bed before 2:30. Good thing, because we had “house stuff” to do during the week. We finally funded on our new house, but not without plenty of stress, hassle, misrepresentation, and I’d even go so far as to call “Shenanigans.” Without mentioning the loan company that gave us the old “bait and switch” tactic, let me just say that they rhyme with “Bending Me,” as in “bending me over”. Knowing I can’t be held for slander if I stick to the facts (and the truth), I think I could give you another hint and tell you that the initials are, “L.T.,” and the second word is, “tree.” I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I should divulge their complete name at this time, though I would strongly suggest that you take your business (and money) somewhere else if you don’t want any unpleasant surprises on what should be your signing day at escrow. Not sure how the bill ended up $2,200 more than what we were quoted, but we decided to “walk” before signing any documents. Did I mention that they also wasted seven hours of our day on Monday “attempting” to right their mistake? Well, let’s just get past the sugar-coating then! Tuesday, after multiple calls and e-mails to all involved parties, we again drove the 58 miles to the escrow office and again were delayed for 2 ½ hours while “Blending Tea” (name changed to protect the offender) completed their “it won’t even take an hour, so just go ahead and come on down” paperwork. We still took a hit of a few hundred dollars, and it’s enough to make me want to scream, but at some point we’d lose our deposit or face late fines from the bank if we didn’t close. Fun stuff. So, the moral of this story: I wouldn’t use “Sending Fees” (not actual name) anytime soon.

The sale on our house seems to be progressing well. The buyer has had their home inspection, we got the list, and I got everything handled in pretty short order. The place has been well maintained, and for a house that’s 56 years old, it really doesn’t have much wrong with it.

It’s 1 a.m., I have to be up before 5 to fly to Seattle, and this cold is still hanging on to me, so I suppose I should sign off. I headed over to the doctor today just to make sure nothing serious is wrong, as after going through cancer, it’s tough not to be a bit of a hypochondriac. Turns out I’m just suffering from a case of Capps-whipped-me-itus, and I hope to cure that in Seattle!

Stay tuned.

P.S. Jenna and I want to express our sorrow for the loss of her Aunt Kathy two days ago (to pancreatic cancer). Cindy was able to be with her sister just hours before she passed, and she is staying in Delaware for the funeral. To all of the friends and family that are suffering right now, God Bless you guys.

Oh, yeah! There’s nothing like holding that Wally at the end of a day’s racing to remind you how sweet the taste of victory can be. To the guys: Johnny, John, Brian, Phil, Mark, Chris, Joe, Troy, and Rip, and to Lee Beard for offering some amazing assistance to us for the past two races...this win was for (and by) all of you. To Norm and Joe, who made us a great chassis (we are using last year’s car with a new front half, and you know how good that car was from Denver on last season), you guys rock! To our hospitality crew, who keep us fed (and usually entertained), to our amazing sponsors for staying on board and having faith in this team, and to Don Schumacher for going easy on the butt-chewing’s when I deserved them...thanks doesn’t even seem enough for you all. Celebrating my 29th birthday clutching a Wally was just too cool to imagine (which is why I imagined I was 14 years younger).

Whatever I have right now, cold-wise, I wish it would go away. I think originally I caught something on the plane back from Englishtown, which I must have given to Jenna and Jason. I felt better the next day, but, after flying to Budd’s Creek for the Pinks filming the next weekend, I think they gave it back to me when I got home. Friday and Saturday I actually was looking forward to getting done with qualifying so I could take some pain-relievers, and Sunday was an interesting day, to say the least. You ever had a head cold and just couldn’t seem to get your “focus”? Yep, me too. Though I felt like I drove the car well, I just couldn’t concentrate well on the starting line. Even the winner’s circle seemed surreal, like I was watching someone else up on the stage. I don’t know that I have ever coughed this much, and my chest is making noises I’ve never heard before. I wonder if I have H1N1-CH3NO2 ?

Anyway, except for the cold it would be hard to find anything negative about our race weekend (except for poor Joe Chrisman, whom I will get to later). Aside from winning our second race of the year, there were plenty of great things that happened. Friday I was invited by Chairperson Jennifer Laffler to participate in the Team Braveheart program, which was hosted this year by Tim Wilkerson racing (for those of you not familiar with Tim, he is the charming fellow who won six races last year in the LRS Funny Car). The children in Braveheart all have congenital heart issues, and Jennifer (whose son Bryce also is a Braveheart member) goes to such extremes to make sure they have a wonderful day at the races. We try to team all of the kids with a nitro team and let them ride in the tow vehicles for at least one run. I again got to take my little buddy Tyler (I forgot to take the camera up with us on the run) and his father Anthony for our first run. Some folks forget that, though the kids are all heroes in our eyes, the parents are dealing with emotional issues that are nearly impossible to fathom. To be able to create a special day where both child and parent can forget about their plight and enjoy some NHRA nitro fumes is pretty cool.

After qualifying Saturday I headed over to the Pedregon pit area to hang out for the Locks of Love auction. ESPN did a nice piece on it, and Tony Pedregon’s and Larry Dixon’s wives (who are sisters) coordinated the whole fundraiser. I donated the shoes that I wore winning in Atlanta (my feet don’t stink, though they look like a cross between a monkey and a dead person’s feet). I hope whoever bought them doesn’t try to tie them to their rear-view mirror; it may fall off from the weight. I think that all told they were able to raise nearly $20,000 (not just from my shoes), and several hair donations for a great cause.

Sunday Tim Morris, one of my close friends from the Air Force, was able to come hang out. At the end of the day I tried to explain to him that not all races turn out this well, though I’m not sure that he fully believed me. He brought out Sid, a buddy of his who’s into cars and really had a great day. I gave them a tour of the trailers, pits, and winner’s circle that I enjoyed as much as they did. Tim and I spent a lot of time together stationed in New Mexico, and his roommate Ron Deering (also a good friend) is going to come out to Indy. It’s so cool reuniting with some of the folks that made my four years in New Mexico not only bearable, but memorable. Another great friend of ours, Quinn Coppock, should be bringing his family to the Sonoma race. Though race weekends can be very hectic, getting to spend some time with long-lost friends is beyond fantastic.

As far as the “meat and potatoes” of the race went, it was an interesting weekend. The track, from 600 foot on, was re-asphalted the Sunday before the race. Though that may initially seem like a crazy thing to do, the Bader family is a crafty bunch that is interested in putting on the best show for the fans. To have to take such a risky move days before a national event, not to mention the extra costs involved, you know their reasoning was solid. It appears that water had seeped up through the asphalt surface just a couple of weeks prior to the Summit Racing Equipment NHRA Nationals, and, not wanting to risk the safety of the racers or the possible postponement of the event should a significant amount of rain fall (it did, both on Thursday and Sunday), they decided to pull the trigger and repave. Though plenty of folks complained, it turned out to be a brilliant and clairvoyant move. The downside was that, despite the Herculean efforts of the Safety Safari in prepping the new asphalt, there’s only so much traction compound and rubber dragging you can get done in three days, and it was definitely “green” asphalt for the nitro cars. Add to that the fact that the track topped 130 degrees for a couple of our runs, and the crewchiefs had their hands full.

{GALLERY_jb}As a driver, these challenging conditions actually are more “fun” (after all, those are the first three letters in “Funny Car”. Of course, “f.u.” technically also is the first two letters!), as they keep you even more busy during the entire run, what with the added wheelspin and the car wanting to fishtail. We never really made a good run in the left lane until Sunday, but we did end qualifying No. 6, which is a great step in the right direction. Qualifying points are awarded, with number one getting eight points and number 16 getting one. One, two, three, and four each receive a diminishing number of points, and the rest are grouped, with fifth and sixth, seventh and eighth, ninth through 12th, and 13th through 16th also awarded points on a degrading schedule. Thus, we received four qualifying points for being No. 6. My point (no pun intended) with this soliloquy is that, with each round win being worth 20 points, qualifying points become very important for both the first 18 races and the six Countdown races. Ashley Force Hood has made up more than two rounds worth of points (45) on us already this year just by consistently outpacing us on Friday and Saturday, and we need to reverse, or at least slow, that trend.

I liked our Sunday. Bob Bode has one tough race team at the moment, and facing them first round gave us cause for concern. Sunday morning it was cooler, overcast, and a stout tailwind was blowing. We made several changes from our qualifying tune-up to adapt to these altered conditions. Then it poured, the sky cleared, the sun and heat returned, and we (all the nitro teams) scrambled to get our hot weather set-ups back in the cars. Second round we started to smoke the tires before even getting to the 600’ transition from concrete to asphalt, but fortunately (for us) Jim Head had problems earlier. I would have just legged it to the finish line, but the car started heading for the wall, so I had to lift, get it straightened out, and then get back into the throttle. Remember, I can’t see where Head is, so I’m thinking he’s going to drive around me at any second. Semis we’ve got John Force, and he’s got lane choice. From the looks of the TV coverage we had a great race going early, then Force started to haze the tires and we pulled ahead. That gave us another Mustang, my buddy Bob Tasca III, in the final. He smoked, we won, and that’s that. Oh, that .001 light is making you think that I turned into Superman for the final? More like Luckyman, but I got away with it. The real heroes of the day were the crew guys on the Valvoline Engine Guarantee/MTS car. Also, since we didn’t exactly kick butt when we debuted this new program/paint scheme at Chicago, it was great to get it into the winner’s circle the second time out (we ran the MTS paint at E-town). My brother asked me why we had black paint across the Valvoline logo in the final. It was actually two strips of carbon fiber that we had to use to patch an ever-growing crack in the side of our Dodge Charger. That’s the kind of stuff that goes on in the 75 minutes between rounds!

If you REALLY paid attention to the ESPN coverage, you not only saw the guys jumping on the starting line when our win light came on, you may have seen one of the boys hobbling over to the wall. Yep, Joe Chrisman (I told you earlier I’d get to this part) popped something in his knee during the high-jump antics. When we won Charlotte last year, Joe spent most of the winner’s circle time on a stretcher near the car (you can ask him for that story). Not to be outdone this time, Joe decided to pass a kidney stone when he got back to Indy, and followed that up with strep throat. I told him that if we win the championship he might end up in Intensive Care. Our tradition is that all crew people celebrating their first win with this team get bathed in the winner’s circle. No, not in warm olive oil by beautiful Greek women, but by Full Throttle (last year it was POWERade). Rip Reynolds, who joined us one race ago, really was impressed by the energy boost he received through osmosis. I have to thank Les Welch for providing a timely shot of the shower.

One of the inevitable aspects of working with a bunch of folks is that there are periodic changes in the crew. Warrior, my favorite “Big Guy,” left the team after the Chicago race, and Phil departed after our return from Norwalk. I wish to thank both of them for their hard work and skills that put us into position to win so many races, and I truly hope their stars continue to rise. We will have another “new” face in Denver, and I hope to be ready to dump some Full Throttle on them Sunday!

The die-cast are here! The die-cast are here! Though not a great Paul Revere impersonation, the die-cast (just in case you missed the first two mentions) of the Valvoline car is now officially out (I’ll let you know on the MTS version as soon as it’s for sale). The retail is going to be a healthy $79.95, but Will Truitt at DSR is going to let any of you readers who go to the direct link for DSR merchandise, which is: http://store.shoeracingstore.com/091vadiso.html., purchase them (two per household max.) at half off for the next 5 days. I’m told the discount will be applied in the checkout process by entering DSR-FAST in the coupon code box. I hate to sound like Billy Mays (ouch, that was a touchy one), and I am not getting any commission on these, this is just a “thanks” to those of you who bitched incessantly to get our die-cast (that’s four times I’ve used that word now) produced.

Once home, and dealing with a failing voice and feeling a little less than 100 percent, it was time to head out to the Wally Parks NHRA Museum in Pomona to do some segments for ESPN. My pal Matt Ilas, who is an amazing talent behind the camera, as well as with advice and inspiration for my end of the lens, flew out to create some short pieces that can be used throughout the year. Two lozenges and a trip to the store to experiment with olive oil (not the skinny chick from Popeye, the stuff you use in salad dressing. And no, this has nothing to do with our winner’s circle “showers,” though I do have a near full bottle I could bring to Sonoma and would be glad to use if we win there) and my voice was better, but still not right. Four hours of work at the Museum with expert Greg Sharp and my bestest buddies Sharai, Sheri, and Wayne (all employees), and I hope we created some interesting historical work that you can enjoy when it airs.

Other big news: We listed our house on Friday, the 26th of June, and by Sunday we had multiple above-list offers. On Monday when I got home there were eight more showings, but we decided to accept one of the Sunday offers. Here we are, just one week after listing, and already we are in escrow! I have to credit Jenna for spending my money in the right places and doing a great job, along with her mom, of “staging” the house to sell. I was ready to sit on this for 6 weeks, so that is a whole lot of potential stress eliminated. Don’t think for a second that I am done working around here, though. Why would I let something silly, like selling the place, interfere with my momentum? Actually, I still had a new rear door that had been sitting in the garage for two months and needed to be installed. My friend Danny was going to help me install it, but his back keeps him tied down pretty frequently and, what with that and my travel schedule, we pretty much ran out of time. He suggested a contractor buddy of his, and David Coleman turned out to be my Messiah (I don’t mean he is the King of the Jews, or the “Anointed One”, though I gladly would have loaned him my olive oil if he was so inclined). Though I did actually have to open my wallet, which cracked in the process, the money was well spent. I “helped” him throughout the day (I took photos, asked lots of question, and said, “interesting” multiple times) and quickly realized I would have been in over my head trying to tackle that project solo. I did get to fill, sand, prime, paint, and stucco patch, and that was kind of rewarding, but David wouldn’t let me play with the expensive tools (very much like the crew).

Now that all of my blood, sweat, and tears (not to be confused with the Top Fuel car “Blood, Sweat, and Nitro”) had helped the house to sell quickly (have I mentioned lately that I’ve done mucho painting around the Beckman Ponderosa?), it was time to make sure that all the “retrofit” (that’s Spanish for, “the county of L.A. wants to stick it to the seller”) requirements were met. Smoke detectors: bought ‘em, mounted ‘em, check! Gas meter seismic shut-off valve: what? Yeah, bend over and get used to it. We got a quote for $380 to get it done, but my friend Marlin used to work with my brother at the Gas Company, so he (they) did it for free. Okay, I traded a crankshaft that originally cost $1200, but it was used, a bit suspect, and taking up space. Anyway, 75 less pounds to move, and ...  check! Termite inspection: That’ll be in a couple of days, but I’ve learned what they don’t like to see, so I spent a few hours with some wood putty and a paint brush and fixed any areas that could raise eyebrows. No, I didn’t cover up termite nests, but the inspectors hate to see unpainted, chipped, or bare wood areas, even in the eaves around the house. Termites ... no thank you!

Last on the list (I hope) is the “low flow fixtures”, which include faucets, shower heads, and toilets. It seems that the commode in the south wing, circa 1953, doesn’t meet the current criteria. It sure would have been nice to know this BEFORE we had the bathroom remodeled! Okay, one trip to Home Depot, $90 later, and I had the old unit out, the closet flange clean (trust me, this part ain’t in your closet), and the new unit dropped into place. Small problem: it hits the wall! Seems that Jo’s tile work may be a bit thicker than the original, and the old toilet tank was actually cocked slightly so that the lid could fit completely. Much as it would have been easy just to do the same with the new unit, I wouldn’t have felt right about it. So, I carefully repackaged everything, took it back to Home Depot, and was told that the toilet that fits is special order, $250. Who the hell needs two toilets anyway? Besides, there’s so much extra space in that bath without a cumbersome porcelain intruder. I thought about just painting a target around the opening in the floor, but decided it would be best to seek an expert’s advice. My uncle John is a plumber, and he set me on the right path. Most toilets (did you really think I’d be rambling on about crappers when I just won a Funny Car race?) are a “12-inch rough”, meaning the distance from the center of that “closet flange” to the wall is about one foot. I now need a “10-nch rough” (easy on the jokes, guys) to pick up the necessary clearance. Racer Larry Madrid, also a plumber, gave me the lowdown on where to pick one up without flushing money down the ... (that joke went over better at the plumber’s convention last year). The only glitch is that everyone was closed for the Fourth of July weekend, so this becomes my Monday project. In the meantime, it’s tough (even with superior aim) using that bathroom. Yes, I am certainly joking ... my aim’s not that good!

Whatever you guys did for the Fourth, I hope that you not only enjoyed it, but I hope you took a moment to reflect on what that day off really represents. Oops, now that I write this (early in the morning of the 6th), I just remembered to go outside and take the flag down.

Cindy came over Saturday and Sunday and helped us pack. Jenna tackled the house while Cindy and I worked on the garage and rafters, and the storage shed. Wow, do I have lots of sh*# that I’ve collected throughout the years! Digging through stuff can be sort of like a time machine, and let’s just say that my time machine would resemble a REALLY large moving van at this point. Fortunately, Jenna and I started months ago with selling lots of things that have been idle around here for years, mostly used race car equipment. Along that vein, my trusty old Honda generator that came with the used dragster trailer that I bought in 1991, and has resided in the garage since 1995, finally went bye-bye today. First person who came and looked at it took it home, and that’s another 75 pounds that we won’t have to transport to the new home. Several hours later prospective buyer number two came by to look at my 1985 Yamaha FJ600 that I have owned since I bought it new at the tender age of 19. Prospect number one had test road it yesterday, and it just didn’t sound right. I suppose that after I rebuilt the carbs I COULD have replaced the 5-year-old gasoline, but I kind of feared riding it to the station without current registration. Anyway, I decided not to chance it this time, pumped out the old fuel, filled it with premium, and put a couple of miles on it to clear out the bad gas (the bike’s, not mine). It sounded crisper, and it went back to Arizona with its new owners earlier today. I just had to snap a photo of Kellee and me before they left with the machine that lent me the initials “FJ” many years ago. I hope she gets half the enjoyment from it that I did, and I hope she doesn’t let it sit for 10 years, either.

So there you have it, another short blog from the master of the short story. Sorry for not being more “grammatically efficient”, but apparently being a “pack-rat” isn’t my only idiosyncrasy. Still, there’s a crankshaft, a generator, and a motorcycle that will NOT be in our moving van come later this month.

What I would like in there is another Wally. Or two. Or three!

Stay tuned.

Tomorrow (I know, you’ve heard this plenty, and I apologize for overusing the phrase) I will hop on an airplane and head out of state for the 10th weekend in a row. Despite the breaks in the NHRA schedule, my dance card has stayed plenty full, thanks to excursions to Delaware (family), Charlotte (NASCAR race appearance for Full Throttle), and Maryland (PINKS All Out) while Wilkerson works on his tan, Neff catches some big waves, Hight finishes his night class on Spanish, and Tasca fishes in the Caribbean. Okay, so none of this has been verified, but if Hight says, “Gracias,” in an interview and the other three appear darker than you remember, you heard it here first. My point is that I haven’t had any time off in the recent past, and it isn’t going to get any easier for the rest of the year.

Before talking about my PINKS adventure, let me catch up on the happenings at Englishtown. For team Valvoline/Mail Terminal Services, it unfortunately was way too much like a replay of Chicago: we really struggled in qualifying, finally got a hot rod going for first round, and still got our butts handed to us by a tough-as-nails (long, pretty nails, that is) Ashley Force Hood (not sure if she took any Spanish or tanning salon trips during her off time).

The weekend started off just fine for me; Thursday afternoon I headed up to Newark to do the MTS open house (we again had our show car on display). Leaving that at 4 p.m., and due back at 11 to do my employee visit, I found myself with plenty of time to kill, too much distance back to the hotel, and a bit late to visit any tourist spots. Time to head to the movies! So there I am, buttered popcorn and soda in hand ($12.75 worth of treats, just in case the $8 on the movie wasn’t enough support), enjoying the heck out of my one-man party. When the movie ended, I looked at my watch and still had four hours (hey, how come “four” and “hour” don’t rhyme?) to kill. So I snuck back into another theatre to watch Land of the Lost with Will Ferrell (no, Will and I didn’t watch the movie together, I meant that he was starring in it). I know, it really is cheating and just like stealing, but I took a shot of the outside of the theatre, and I’m giving the movie a mention here, so I hope that doesn’t taint my Karma. I also took a shot of the screen, just in case the cops need evidence to prosecute. Anyway, it turns out God must have noticed as it poured on me all the way back to the hotel, at midnight, once I was finished with the MTS visit. Oops!

I had a group of 14 cousins, family, and in-laws (probably a couple of outlaws also) spend the day Sunday at the track. After our disappointing first-round exit, I spent quite a bit of time in the stands with all of them. It’s interesting the reaction I get from fans. It’s almost as if some believe that we drivers are royalty or movie stars as you should hear some of the remarks I get when I do venture into the seats. One guy asked if I’d seen any movies lately (oh, that was the little devil on my shoulder!). The truth is that I still am as big a fan as anyone, and fortunately this job hasn’t tainted (can I use “taint” twice in the same blog?) my perspective and enjoyment of the sport. I also really love that so many of you are actually reading this blog and telling me about it at the track. At times it can be tough to find the time to write (my entries aren’t exactly short, if you haven’t noticed), but your comments are very motivating and appreciated.

I also spent some time with the Silvas, Tony and Lexy, whom I met in the parking lot of Applebee’s at the Bristol race. Lexy is a Lupus survivor and said she actually drew some inspiration from my cancer story, so we arranged to have her come speak during our DSR Sunday morning meet-and-greet in hospitality. Lexy rode with our tow vehicle on our lone Saturday qualifier (the other was rained out), and we blamed Tony for letting the rain ruin his chance to ride along (and our chance to improve). We relented and let him come with us first round and, though he clearly made our car run better than Lexy did, he wasn’t ENOUGH good luck that time. I do enjoy meeting nice people who have interesting stories, and getting to spend time with them was cool.

{GALLERY_house}We bought a house. I suppose I should sound more excited, but I’m such a creature of habit and very low maintenance, that I just figured I’d grow old here in North Hills… always a “Valley Dude.” Jenna did such a great job of fixing this place up that I actually am proud to say that it’s my house, and after nearly 17 years, it’s kind of traumatic to move out. We’ll be living in Norco, 80 miles from here (and further from the beach!), but there do seem to be some advantages: Los Angeles County has done a great job taking my tax dollars without providing great schools and infrastructure, so now we’ll give Riverside County a chance. Hmmm… I’m trying to think of the other advantages. Oh yeah, we’ll be getting a place nearly three times the size of this house (wait, the taxes will be MORE than three times). Well, we’ll have a big yard (that’s DIRT right now as opposed to the one we just spent thousands on to have nice grass). Oh, I know: this place has the equivalent of a four-car garage, bigger than the three-car unit in my house (that also has 250 square feet of attic storage, whereas the new house has none). Well, I suppose it will be a fresh new way to spend money to fix, furnish, and flourish in our new abode.

Once I returned from Englishtown, I had to drive out to Norco (did I mention that it was 80 miles?) to meet the home inspector. He’s the guy that takes your $250 to tell you either that nothing is wrong with your home (why then did he need to come out?), or that you’d better have some more money ready to spend (as this is a bank-owned repo house, we get it “as-is”) besides the check he just got. Sometime between seeing the house the first time and going out for the inspection, someone decided to try to pry the cabinet off the wall in the garage and made off with several of the bathroom light fixtures and shower heads. I sure hope it was Cory Mac playing another of his practical jokes on me and that he’ll return everything soon!

{GALLERY_pinks}I was going to tell you about my PINKS adventure. For those not familiar with the show, it airs on SPEED Channel and is one of their most popular shows. It used to be that racers competed for the title to their opponent’s car (hence the “Pinks” name), but apparently that can be construed as gambling, which is frowned upon by several states. Now it basically is a street-race atmosphere, with drivers leaving the line when host Rich Christensen drops his arms (as opposed to the Christmas Tree start). After all 400-500 contestants make their time runs, the staff goes into their “war room” to pick the 32 (16 in our case, due to several rain delays) cars that they think will make the best program. They can be 9-, 10-, 11-, or 12-second rides (though all cars selected usually are within no more than a tenth and a half of each other), so no one knows during time trials if they will get to compete for the $10,000 cash and $8,000 NAPA toolbox. It sure keeps it interesting and exciting for the contestants and fans (who still numbered around 9,000 despite the heavy rain at the Maryland track). I was blown away with how professional the event ran, and the track staff should take a bow (not to be confused with what Indians shoot arrows with) for that. The SPEED production crew, as well as the entire PINKS staff, treated me like royalty (kind of like the fans in the stands at Englishtown!).

Originally, I was only there to present the Valvoline Coveted Spot Award on camera. Basically, all these PINKS events fill their quota of cars within minutes of registration opening online, so hundreds of racers are turned away. This Valvoline award randomly picks someone whose entry wasn’t accepted, calls them and surprises them, and gives them free entry. Trust me, running at one of these events really is a big deal to the sportsman. To get a chance to run in front of packed stands, with television cameras all around (not to mention the ten grand), is beyond cool. The winner, Chris Clemens, actually blew his motor up on the dyno right after he got the call from Valvoline (he should have registered at Valvoline.com for the Engine Guarantee). Imagine that: You’re not in… bang, you’re in… BOOM, you’re out! I’ve had weeks like that, and it stinks. Anyway, Chris’ cousin, Jason, stepped up and loaned him his Firebird to participate with, which is way cool. However, while talking to Chris during our taping, something much bigger came to my attention: Jason donated one of his kidneys to Chris and saved his life a couple of years ago. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Chris might be a pain in the ass. Come on, first a kidney, now you want my car to race! Truthfully, though these two, and Chris’ wife, Glenda, acted just like regular racers. I was very moved by the story and think that Jason epitomizes what a real hero is all about. Just that experience made my trip out there more than fulfilling, but the PINKS and SPEED crew let me participate in nearly every facet of the program. Clay Millican (who is a regular on the show and really is one of the nicest people you will ever meet) took me around on his pit and staging lane driver interviews and let me interact with him and the racers. Kale, Ken, and Brian let me check out the software that groups all the runs together to let them pick cars in a really tight e.t. range for eliminations, and Rich, Rob, Willie B., and Bob had me help with the ladders. If that weren’t enough, I (along with Clay) got to coach the drivers before each run, and they even let me present winner Justin with 10 Grand… cash! I’m telling you, from the production assistants like Stephanie, to the track crew, to the SPEED and PINKS employees, I can’t thank them all enough for such a wonderful experience. If that weren’t enough, Bob Glidden was on hand for a special Mustang match race, Bunny Burkett had two TAFCs running (she’s out of the saddle temporarily with some health issues), Dick Rosberg (of Top Gas and “Fighting Irish” Funny Car fame) was there to help his son, who drives a jet dragster, and the fans were entertained with diesel races and a Quick-Eight show.

Shelley Sayers, who once worked with us at DSR and now represents Valvoline with TSMGI (The Sports Marketing Group), was my chaperone for the entire event and a real trouper. We got to the track at 9:20 a.m. and were told we could leave whenever we were done with the one interview. I really wanted to stay, and Shelley made sure I didn’t wander off. My cousins Mary Betty (who only lives 15 minutes from the track) and Diane spent the evening with us as well. The final wasn’t run until after midnight, and we didn’t leave until just before 1 a.m., but it all was worth it to me (except getting only three hours of sleep before having to head to the airport and almost missing my flight because Air Tran has their heads in their behinds, but that’s another story).

Once I returned home, it was obvious I wasn’t going to be treated like royalty any longer (Unless your definition of nobility is, “one who loads moving vans quickly”). Jenna and Cindy had expertly packed up much of the extraneous stuff (basically everything but the bed and toothbrushes) so we can “stage” (not to be confused with the racing term, this one is more like fooling buyers into thinking your house is bigger than it really is) the house for a quick sale. Because our house is so small, we had to take out some of the furniture (why my Wallys all have to suffocate in boxes right now is beyond me, but I’ll play along). Finding a friend on a weekday to help move is difficult for two reasons: all my healthy friends are employed, and my unemployed friends are hurt. Fortuitously for me, though certainly not for him, Eric is between jobs, healthy, and stupid enough to pick up his phone when I called for help. He and I got everything loaded in about an hour and a half before he had to leave (I think Oprah was coming on). I then drove everything over to Cindy’s so we could dump it in her garage. How nice to have such an understanding mother-in-law! So now we will have to re-load all of this stuff once we take possession of the new house and transport it over to Norco for another unloading. Too much work for a Prince! At least Jason got to enjoy the ramp on the moving truck, zooming down with his race car in between mom and dad carrying the heavy stuff.

Okay, so here we are at 2 a.m. on Thursday, we have a meeting with our realtor at noon, and then it’s off to the airport, so I should wrap this up soon. I have spent the better part of the last two days sanding, cleaning, pressure washing, wiping, scrubbing, painting, and generally sweating. Jenna probably has done twice what I have, and I hope that all of our efforts net us a good price for the house. It goes on the market today, should present for an open house this weekend, and someone will be sleeping in my room soon enough. Speaking of sleeping in my room, that sounds like a great idea!

Stay tuned.

Enticing title, don’t you think? Bear with me and I’ll try to explain it all. Chicago weekend featured lots of stories, exciting things, and no round-wins. The race was a real disappointment to all of the Valvoline Engine Guarantee team (our new paint scheme highlighting Valvoline’s new commitment to car owners), and now we really need to go rounds (preferably winning four of them) next Sunday in E-town.

I landed at O’Hare (which I think originally was, “Oh, here?”, but was changed) Thursday just after noon and headed straight to the MTS terminal for their open house. We again had the show car on display for the employees, customers, and potential new partners. Not only did I do an appearance for the open house, I came back with the Comstock’s for the midnight shift-change visit, spending time with the night crew and thanking them for being instrumental in our racing success.

Sandwiched between the MTS visits was the annual Don and Sarah Schumacher house party, where old friends, crewmembers, and legends gather to bench race and socialize. Getting to chat with Chris Karamesines is always a highlight in my eyes, and hanging out with several of the guys who were on Don’s Funny Car crew back in the late ’60s and into his driving heyday in the early ’70s was enlightening. Matt Ilas from ESPN brought his camera out and we filmed a piece in the garage behind Don’s house. That is the workshop that housed three nitro funnies back then, and it’s a far cry from the 100,000 square foot shop that we now enjoy in Brownsburg. We’ll film the rest of the piece once we arrive in Indy, and it will be a nice comparison of racing then and now.

After looking real good with our new chassis (last year’s car with a new front half) at a very hot Topeka racetrack, a much cooler Chicago threw us a curve and we just never caught up with the car. Friday netted us a 4.36 (lots of top end tire spin and an early shutoff) and a 4.32 (with a cylinder dead from the step of the throttle), so we already were a run behind and needed to step on the tune-up for Saturday. With intermittent sprinkles and the very real threat of not making any more runs, it was a difficult position for Johnny and John. We were too aggressive on run 3, and I had to pedal the car to a 4.58, which was bumped out by the end of that session. Now we had to hope that the weather held out long enough to get our last run in and bump into the show. It’s no fun at all knowing that you literally have one run to get into the show and you have to run in the 4.20s or better. Taking what they had learned from run 3, the guys took a slightly less aggressive path and got us into the show with a nice 4.22, though that only was good for the No. 15 spot. I’m a firm believer in it not mattering much WHO we race, but rather WHEN we race them. Unfortunately, round one gave us a red-hot Ashley Force (I mean her car was very fast and consistent, but you can call her red-hot for other reasons if you wish). Team John (West and Collins) stayed late Saturday culling over the computer data, as we had to pick up a tenth just to be in the game.

Though they did a nice job with the Sunday tune (Lee Beard also lent his expertise), we just didn’t have enough. Had I staged shallow, we would have run a 4.13 (our e.t. was 4.16), and tire spin downtrack probably slowed us another .02, but Ashley’s 4.0 was too much for us that day. We think we learned some things that the car likes, and hopefully they apply to hot and cooler tracks so we can utilize them in the coming weeks. Our weekend was officially over, but there is so much more to tell about my adventures:

Being that Rodger Comstock already owed all of us a round of drinks for being No. 6 qualifier in Topeka, we upped the ante and decided to make it double (dinner included) or nothing (we eat at Arby’s). Well, let’s just say that I’d like extra Horsey sauce on my roast beef sandwich. Be careful when betting on nitro!

{GALLERY_june10}Will Truitt from DSR showed me the new MTS diecast car, which should be available at the Denver race. It’s great that both paint schemes will have their own diecast version for this season.

I’ll let the photo captions explain the other events I had going on in Chicago and move on back to getting back home just after midnight on Sunday. Jenna and Jason picked me up at the airport and took me to the fly-away station to pick up my truck before heading home. One day I think I’ll just abandon the old Nissan in some parking lot and see how long it takes the local police to find it. Perhaps I can donate it to one of their balls, though I’m told that the Highway Patrol no longer have balls (that’s a terrible cop joke, don’t try using it to get out of a ticket!).

I was all set to fire up my Yamaha after my amazing 30-day carburetor rebuild, and I was plenty excited. Yep, right up to the point when I turned on the fuel petcock, causing gas to start pouring out of one of those “non-rebuildable,” “non o-ring replaceable” tee-fittings. I had replaced the o-rings that looked questionable on all the fittings that allowed, but this one didn’t. Anyway, another carb removing (not quite as easy as unbolting a Holley off of your intake manifold, by the way), silicon applying, carb reinstalling sequence followed. This time I was a little smarter, mocking up the gas tank and carb assembly on a bench in the driveway (gas fires in the garage aren’t much fun) to check for additional leaks. Bueno (Spanish for “the second time is the charm”). Once I plugged everything back into place and installed the new battery, it started in the first 2 seconds. I did the typical “man victory dance,” complete with two pirouettes and a fist pump (after carefully checking to make sure no one was watching). What a feeling of satisfaction. I took it around the block a couple of times (the bike, not my dance) just to make sure all systems were functioning (sorry, Don, but I really was careful), so now it’s time to put it up for sale. I bought it new when I was 19 years old, and though it sounds silly, it’s kind of tough to part with all of the memories that bike represents.

Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but I’m on a plane Wednesday heading to Jersey, and I need to be there a day early to do an MTS visit. I’ve left the last several races without that pretty gold man, so I sure hope that the other Funny Car competitors see fit to let me have this one!

Stay tuned.

{GALLERY_june4}Wednesday I was up at 3:30 a.m. (I sent my blog in at 1:15 that morning, so you do the math on sleep) to catch my flight. I parked my truck at the local Fly-Away terminal, hopped on the 4:15 shuttle bus, and we pulled into lovely LAX (I believe the “lax” doesn’t so much refer to “re-lax” as much as, “lax-ative,” but that’s another story) just before 5 a.m. At 6, I was in the air, crossing one airport “terminal” off my journey’s list. Next stop… Denver, for a short layover (I’m guessing the “lay” isn’t so much as in, “you can LAY down” as the “over” is as in, “I’m OVER security screenings and delays”) before continuing on to Kansas City. Day one, and already I’m at three in the terminal count. Meeting me in KC was Halie Schmidt of the NHRA, and my newest buddy. She and I did the media tour of the surrounding area, hitting several TV, newspaper, and radio outlets. It really was quite fun, I just wish I had slept enough to enjoy it. Halie had done her homework and made the trip as efficient as possible; even taking me to Starbucks to ensure I would be awake for the camera segments. The radio show host, Keith Washburn, was a student of mine at the Hawley School, so we really hit it off and had fun. Fifteen minutes can fly by when amongst friends (and high on caffeine).

At the conclusion of our NHRA promotional trip, Halie dropped me off at the airport Holiday Inn. This is the first time in as long as I can remember that I was without transportation, as it wasn’t justifiable to book a rental car for an extra day. You see, my Airport Familiarization Tour 2009 was just getting into high gear; up at 4:30 Thursday, it was on another shuttle back to KC, on to a layover in St. Louis (I think the “Saint” part refers less to a holy person than to the phrase, “This ’saint your final destination.” Wait a second… what kind of twisted sense of humor did the person have that came up with, “terminal” and “final destination” with reference to travel?). Another flight took me into Louisville (which is pronounced, “Lou-E-Ville,, which now has me real confused about the pronunciation of St. Louis), and now I was only an 82-mile rental car trip (in pouring rain) away from my terminal… I mean, final destination. I was visiting Lexington, Kentucky to participate in a special event at Valvoline headquarters. This was the day in which their new Engine Guarantee program was unveiled. Yep, that was my big secret in the last blog, and now it’s out of the bag. Take five minutes and log on to Valvoline.com to check out the cool details of this awesome program.

Wait… wait… wait.

Okay, are you back? Being my first visit to the head office, I really didn’t know what to expect or how well I would be received. We had our new paint scheme on display with the show car chassis (we will debut that body this weekend in Chicago), and I was slated to sign autographs for the employees. I must say that it was such a pleasant experience, all the folks were as polite as can be (and very excited about being partnered with an NHRA Funny Car), and it made all the travels well worth the effort. Sam Mitchell, the president of Valvoline, is something else. He and I were hanging out and chatting by the car for about 10 minutes, and he seemed a very unpretentious, friendly employee. It wasn’t until later that I was informed he was the president! It’s so rewarding to be affiliated with Valvoline, as well as MTS, Gates, Matco, and the other “family” of sponsors at DSR.

Once through in Lexington, it was time to make the reciprocal trip (still 82 miles, but no rain this time) back to Leewie-ville to hop on another airplane. By now many of the TSA employees were on a first-name basis with me, but I still had to take off my shoes before passing through the metal detector! Up in the air again, this time I was treated to a stopover in Chicago. My final leg (why do they use that part of the anatomy, why not “arm,” “ear,” or “foot”?) back into KC was delayed, so once I got into my rental car it was pushing 11:30 p.m., and my day was far from over. A mere 32 miles later I arrived at the MTS terminal for my annual visit. After spending about an hour with the employees, it was time to head out to Topeka and check into my hotel. I’m not sure if my Magellan (which is Latin for, “To have high-tech help in getting lost”) lied to me, but it took me 112 miles (which is French for, “way too far at 1 a.m.”) to find my room. By 3:15, it was certainly well beyond even my normal sleep schedule.

I had no idea that Topeka had renamed their Capitol "Yang-Ming," but I guess the Chinese influence is even felt in the Heartland.

Here are all of the California State Representatives who have voted for fiscal responsibility in the past decade! Okay, that was a cheap-shot. This really is the latest meeting of my fan club.

Thank goodness Friday qualifying was an afternoon and evening deal, as I could sleep in (like I do every other day). Being as that I went to bed hungry, Denny’s was calling my name in the morning (okay, at 11 a.m.). After downing my Grand Slam, I still found myself with nearly an hour to kill, and I knew there was a state Capitol just calling my name. Since I already once had cheated on Jenna (seeing a Capitol without her), doing it a second time was so much less guilt-ridden. Anyway, I’ll let her see the pictures to allay my remorse.

The race went pretty well for the Mail Terminal Services/Valvoline team. We qualified sixth, one of our better showings this year, and we think we discovered how to stay in the top half from now on. Rodger Comstock told the crew that drinks were on him if we were eighth or better at the end of time trials, so we just turned the “Margarita control valve,” “Beer flow meter,” and “Rum management system” 2 clicks each… piece of cake!

To say it was warm would belittle the term… it was 90 degrees plus and one tricky track for the crews. We won a close race with the Kalitta/DHL team and Jeff Arend in the first round, and took a big win over Tony Pedregon in the second. In the semi’s, against red-hot teammate Capps, our car broke an air line fitting about 180 feet into the run. This loss of pressure simulated me lifting off of the air switch under the throttle and put the car into “pedal mode.” (Suppose you had to lift off of the throttle due to shake or spin on a run, chances are it would overpower the track when you floored it again. “Pedal mode” takes a bunch of timing out of the car, knocking the horsepower way down to maximize the chance of regaining traction). In our case, we weren’t spinning, but the malfunction took away lots of needed power, and I had to watch the NAPA car drive away. Still, a semifinal in the first race on this car (this is last year’s chassis with new tubing from the motor plate forward, also known as being “front-halved”) is very encouraging to us all. We still sit in fifth place, only three rounds from second. However, we are far from secure, as there are plenty of tough cars behind us, including two of the Force team. Who would have thought that Neff wouldn’t be in the top 10 at this point, or that Robert Hight would be sitting 12th without any season wins? It’s been an odd year for the floppers, and Capps and McCulloch have been awesome. Still, a good weekend for our team and a good way to start off a three-in-a-row series. In fact, with six races in the next seven weeks, this is really the time to build momentum. A slump at this point in the season could eliminate a team from Countdown contention. We currently have 13 round-wins, more than twice what we had this time last year, but we need to add a couple of race wins and minimize first-round losses if we are to challenge for the championship. Johnny, John, Chris, Chris, Joe, Joe (okay, there’s only one Joe, I was just in a rhythm), Mark, Brian, Phil, and Troy are doing everything in their power to give me a winning hot rod, and I want to reward them all (along with our fab. shop crew, hospitality gang, and support staff) with the #1 on our car next year.

As fortune would have it, I actually was on a non-stop for the flight home, so I only got to see the inside of two airports: Kansas City and LAX. All told, my adventure took me 11 times through the inside of an airport, which is about 10 more than I needed, but going home to see Jenna and Jason is always at the top of my list.

Hey, in the back, that's the world's oldest 8th grader raising his hand so politely before answering a question.

Scott Sachs, Carrie Burns, Stephen Jensen...has it really been 29 years?

Back home, I haven’t even gotten a chance to watch the race yet on TiVo, as bathroom duties (work, that is, not bodily functions) and charity work have kept me occupied. Yesterday I went back to school, but only for two periods (hell, that was about as often as I actually used to attend). Doug Wah is a teacher at Frost Middle School in Granada Hills, and we met at the NHRA charity softball game last November. I went to Frost in eighth and ninth grades, and we’ve been trying to find a time when I could come in and talk with his students. We will try to put another visit together in the fall semester, as I enjoyed my time with these teenagers. It seemed a bit surreal looking around a campus I hadn’t set foot on in 28 years… could it really have been that long ago? On my way out, I found photos on the wall of honor roll classes dating back to when Moses attended Frost. The 1980 fall class sparked many memories for me, and I had to snap a quick photo of the center portion. I see people in there that I had known as a 9-year-old, some that I have not seen in 29 years and many whose paths I hope one day cross mine again. A nice reward for taking a few hours from my day!

That afternoon I headed out to North Hollywood (confusing at it may be, Hollywood, North Hollywood, and West Hollywood are all alive and well, but no one has heard from South or East Hollywood… very strange) to do an appearance on “the Speed Scene” internet radio show. Scott and Diana Hudson, along with Bruce Barker, host this hardcore sportsman show, and my second trip was just as enjoyable as the first. They even put the new John Force book in front of my spot, but I didn’t have much chance to read it before we went on the air.

Okay, the plan tonight is to try and watch the Topeka race, finish packing, get more than 3 hours of sleep, and get on the road by 4:15 a.m. for another fun-filled, action-packed set of airport visitations. Next stop: Chi-town (Hey, aren’t those the lyrics to a Boz Skaggs song?).

Stay tuned.

I am in the midst of a nine-week stretch where I am away from home every weekend and quite a bit of the week. The NHRA schedule did afford us three open weekends between the St. Louis and Norwalk races, but I managed to fill all of those in. The weekend between St. Louis and Bristol we all went to Delaware to visit Aunt Kathy (who is actually doing much better lately, though still far from out of the woods). (Sorry, quick pause for a colloquialism clarification: What the hell does having cancer have to do with being in a forested area, Jack?) Anyway, this Memorial Day weekend we all went out to Charlotte to see the Coca-Cola 600 NASCAR race. Though we unfortunately missed the race due to rain, we didn’t come away empty-handed (okay, technically that’s an idiom, # 2). We did get to do some pretty cool stuff while in Charlotte:

Before I get carried away (idiom # 3), the reason we were in North Carolina is that we were guests of Coca-Cola. Chris Lopez, who is the Full Throttle representative for Coke at the NHRA races (and a former “Valley Dude” himself), arranged all of this for us, and we are very grateful. Eddie and Annemarie Krawiec, Brandon and Tracey Bernstein, plus Jessi Combs from FTTV were all part of our group. Del and Connie Worsham also were out there for the festivities, as were Jason Line and Greg Anderson.

It was nice to know that some things stay predictable: Jason (my Jason, as I have no idea when Mr. Line sleeps) finally went to sleep at 1 a.m. Saturday morning… Pacific Time. Yep, that would be about four in the morning local time, and made for a really pleasant night of sleep (that’s just good-ole sarcasm there). That proverb, “The early bird catches the worm” really doesn’t apply to our family, which is okay, because I truly am not in need of any worms at this time. So, the Rip Van Beckman family headed over to the local Discovery Museum so Jason could have some fun. We then walked him through part of the NASCAR extravaganza on our way to my first assignment, and he was thoughtful enough to point out his dad’s name on the agenda banner… smart kid.

Eddie, Brandon, and I were interviewed by Jessi up on stage in the middle of the downtown fan fest. It was an enormous event and very impressive, featuring a Clint Black concert at the end of the evening. NASCAR really knows how to cover their bases for a race (another idiom, Jack). In between we were invited to a Coke “party” (I know that reads kind of odd, so let me say that it was a get-together put on by the makers of the Coca-Cola soft drink). This was probably the highlight of Jenna’s weekend, as she got her picture taken with Olympic gold medalist (yeah, I know… AND winner of this year’s Dancing with the Stars) Shawn Johnson. Shawn even held Jason for a photo (I have no idea how Jeff Burton snuck behind them and got in my photo), and Jenna had me take another with her camera so she could immediately send it to her mother. You wouldn’t believe the attention Ms. Johnson received during the two days that we saw her. Hell, she was more popular than pancakes at a fat farm (I made up that idiom… or colloquialism… or whatever it is). Why would someone get so excited just to have their picture taken with a celebrity? Besides, Jenna almost cut into my waiting time to have my photo taken with THE Bobby Allison… woo-hoo! Now, THAT’S exciting, I don’t care where you’re from. Eddie swore to me that his iPhone took great photos, but now I’m thinking that the folks at Apple may have just squeezed one of those cheap, disposable box cameras in there. Besides the obvious quality issues on this shot, I clearly am far better looking in person.

Sunday all of us but Jenna and Jason headed out for Lowe’s Motor Speedway in the a.m. to get credentialed (don’t worry, it wasn’t painful) and checked in. We were guests in Dan Farrell’s (a senior VP) office, which has a spectacular view of the track. We were able to walk down to the garage area and poke around the cars and crews. I didn’t see my buddies from team Hendricks (we took a tour of their shop while at the NHRA race last year), but most of the shop guys don’t go with the cars to the race. I did run in to Kirk Butterfield, who spent years working in the NHRA, as did his brother Kevin. Kirk has been doing the left turn deal for several years now, and he currently works on the M&M’s car of Kyle Busch. In fact, I just saw a photo on NHRA.com of several of us speaking with him in front of the garage area. It was very different from the preparation at an NHRA race, but I really can appreciate the effort and professionalism of all of the crew folks in each sport. Seeing the cars going through tech, looking at the pit carts and huge toolboxes these teams have, the corner scales in each garage area, the templates that are used to certify each body make, and the way the cars are “sealed” after tech so that they can’t be touched before the start of the race was very interesting to me. Fortunately, I was able to shoot photos pretty much wherever I wanted to (though I didn’t push my luck), so I hope it conveys some of the atmosphere to you guys as well. I haven’t been to a NASCAR Cup race since about 1976, and that was a road course race, so this all was really brand new for me. We got to walk around pit row and shoot photos there, and Eddie and I thought it would be funny to swap tires between a couple of teams (they had what looked to be 20 in each pit area), but we decided against it.

{GALLERY_cc600}We were able to walk up behind the stage for the driver intros, and it was fun watching all of the stars come up and get ready for their introduction. I felt bad for the guy who followed Dale Jr. out onstage, as apparently “Little E” is more popular than Ben Gay in an old folk’s home (I made that up, too). The Army did some awesome stuff with artillery, helicopters, and troops. Eddie and I were thinking about hiding in those two little camouflaged sheds that they had set up in the infield, but we never got around to it. Good thing, as it turns out they were blown up in the pre-race Army demonstration. That would have been tough to explain to Don Schumacher! The Air Force did a flyover with several fighter planes, and you could feel the excitement starting to build. By this time we all were back in Dan’s office for the start of the race, and Jenna and Jason were ready as well.

Up until this point everything had gone wonderfully well. Then it rained. What a total letdown. I felt like the baton for the U.S. relay team at the Olympics (that was a reach, but pretty damn clever!). We came away empty-handed (thought I’d work in one more idiom to show off), as the race wasn’t run until Monday.

In case any of you didn’t notice, what with not having to go to work and all, Monday was Memorial Day, and it’s called that because of all of the heroic efforts that a few have done so that the many (hey, I sound kind of like Churchill talking about the Battle of Britain!) can live their lives in freedom. Thanks to all of our veterans and current military!

Even though the start time was four hours before our departure, there was no way we could chance missing our flight. That’s funny, because when we got to the airport we were told there weren’t any seats available… and we had reservations! Then we were told they would try to get the three of us seated together (yeah, go ahead and sit Jason in a different row and see how long that lasts!), before they finally ended the suspense and gave us the seats that we had paid for. Awesome to fly… I just can’t get enough airports, TSA, delays, and uncomfortable seats.

Speaking of all of the above, my flight leaves tomorrow (actually it now would be today, Wednesday) at 6 a.m., as I have an NHRA media tour to do Wednesday, then things really get busy for me on Thursday. I’m not allowed to tell you just yet, but I will fill you in as soon as I get back. Don’t worry, I’m not going to literary college or the University for Idioms (which is one letter away from where I should be), but I do plan on going to the winner’s circle.

Stay tuned!

My flight into Bristol was typically uneventful, though landing at midnight at a small airport can present some challenges. Fortunately, my limousine (that’s Latin for “Bill Taylor’s Excursion”) was waiting. My father Bob and Bill (who my dad met while working at Bell Helicopter in Dallas, and I met when we displayed Dexter Tuttle’s Top Fuel car at the Bell plant in 2005) had done the “Thelma and Louise” road trip from Texas (without the driving off the cliff part or making out with Brad Pitt) and were right on time to get me. My dad and I roomed together for the weekend, which I don’t recommend to anyone. You see, I like TV, and I don’t like going to bed early. Combine that with the time difference, and soon it was 2:30 a.m., and I was still wide awake. Though the first qualifying session wasn’t until after 3 p.m. the next day (which meant I wouldn’t have to be at the track until after noon), I had committed to speaking at the Army YES program and had to be there at 8:45. Keeping in mind that our second run wasn’t until 8 p.m., and Friday was one long day for me.

Up at 7:15 a.m., breakfast at Cracker Barrel (breakfast EVERY day was at Cracker Barrel, so I think I’ve had my fill for the next month or so), a short trip to the racetrack, and let the festivities begin! At 42, I still am in pretty good shape, and I’ve always been fairly nimble (that’s Greek for “overestimating one’s abilities”). That being said, jumping over the temporary fencing probably wasn’t my most intelligent move with minimal sleep. I’m pretty sure that big gouge on my right shin should heal in the next week, and it didn’t seem to affect the reaction times.

{GALLERY_force}The quick synopsis (Italian for, “taking too long to explain something”) on qualifying was that we made it down the track 2 ½ times and ended up 10th, forfeiting (Portuguese for “not wanting to be greedy”) lane choice to John Force for round one. Keeping in mind that he had just drilled us in the first round at the prior race, and I was a bit nervous.

If you saw the coverage of the race (I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet), now you’ll understand the title of this blog. John had more than a handful with his car, and I saw something I never thought I would: Another Funny Car trying to share my lane at 200 mph. The good news is that we didn’t make contact, nobody was the worse for wear, and we (DSR) got the win light. John did, however, get the bonus five points that come with taking out the centerline cone. Bob Szelag (aka Super Genius/Big Fan Bob) captured this sequence from the stands while shooting for National DRAGSTER, and I thank him for not dropping his camera during an intense moment.

My dad and I went to the top of the stands for the semis to hang out with the fans and check out the great view of Bristol Dragway.

Johnny, John, and “the Magnificent 7” did a great job getting a handle on the track for the second round, but watching Tim Wilkerson drive away from me cemented the fact that this wasn’t going to be our day. We stayed in the top five for the points, but things are starting to get pretty serious. Del Worsham won his second race in a row, Ashley broke the tie with us by qualifying number one, and Wilkie appears to have a handle on his hot rod once again. It’s going to be tough to stay in the top five (even the top 10) without a couple of more race wins, so we tested on Monday. Testing (Old English for, “spending money hand over fist”) has to be used very wisely this year, not just for the economics but also due to the four test day maximum instituted by NHRA this year. This was our first, and we took full advantage by making five runs (which makes for a very long day for the guys on the crew) and trying clutch and blower parts. Though we didn’t necessarily set the place on fire, we did make three decent laps and learn several things about the car.

Me and Shirl Greer (I'm the cute one on the left)

America's not-so-most-wanted

Aside from the on-track activities, my weekend at Bristol had plenty of other notables: I again participated in the track’s two autograph sessions, one for the VIP ticket purchasers and one for all fans. I also took part in the Saturday press conference for Valvoline, where they announced a contract extension with Don Schumacher Racing. One look at the quality drivers who are sidelined this year due to lack of funding and you can really appreciate how big a deal this was to have some security for the next two years and beyond. I also was able to get my picture taken with the 1974 Funny Car champion, Shirl Greer. I knew that he was being honored as the Grand Marshall (Old Western for, “sure, you can stand on the starting line for the first round”), but I didn’t know where to find him (not that he was lost). When I heard Bob Frey announce his name at the end of Sunday morning’s driver intros, I quickly doubled back with my camera to capture a moment that means a lot to me. 35 years ago Shirl was “the dude” in AA/FC for the NHRA, and I’d love to be the team that gets it done this year. Also, in addition to my dad and Bill hanging out all weekend, I had several folks from Cumberland (my dad’s hometown) make the drive over. My cousin Mike came down with his friend Kenny and Kenny’s son Kevin. Wayne Hudson, daughter Debbie Powell, and her husband Jim (hardcore fans) were there as well. And, Dennis and Charlie Kincaid also showed up. I got a photo of all of us together for posterity (not to be confused with “posterior”, which of course is the opposite of “anterior”, and slightly behind “medial”). Too bad we couldn’t get Shirl back for another photo! Speaking of photos, I also got to meet the renowned, distinguished, and legendary (all English for, “bad-ass”) lensman, Steve Reyes, one of the greatest drag race photographers ever. We got to chat several times throughout the weekend, and Bill (who used to be partners on a Top Fuel car with Ed Mabry and Chip Woodall) got to reminisce (Turkish for, “make stuff up that never happened”) with Steve about the “good old days”.

I've seen better quality photos of UFO's taken in the '70's!

Since we tested on Monday, I obviously wasn’t going to make my original flight home. To purchase another from the same airport would have cost Don $1,000, but my frugality (Russian for, “cheap bastard”) wouldn’t permit me to spend that. My dad and Bill suggested that I ride with them to Nashville and catch a flight out from there. At $319 I think my boss will be much happier, and I got to spend more time with Pops. On the way, we stopped in Knoxville and had dinner (Cracker Barrel if you’re keeping track) with Kevin Johnson and his wife Sandy. Kevin rented a room and lived with us 30 years ago, and I hadn’t seen him in nearly that amount of time. It really is a small world.

The best thing about getting home (other than seeing Jenna and Jason, of course) was that the carb needle and seats for my Yamaha were waiting for me… finally! They’re in, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to put the carbs back on the bike yet. Hell, I’m not sure I remember which end goes to the engine and which to the airbox anymore, but that question won’t get answered for another week or so. We have twice driven out to Norco to again look at houses, and we put another bid in today on a nice one. We’ll see what happens, but I’m definitely not getting emotional over it. The emotion will probably come if we do get it and the first mortgage payment arrives in the mail.

We head out for Charlotte today (Friday) for what should be an awesome weekend. I haven’t been to a NASCAR race in over 30 years, but Full Throttle has invited all three of us to be their guests for the Coca-Cola 600 this weekend. We will get to do many behind-the-scenes activities, and will participate in a couple of press conferences with fellow NHRA competitors Eddie Krawiec and Brandon Bernstein. I’ll try to get some photos for the next blog, and I sure hope those guys stay out of each other’s lanes. On second thought, draft away… just leave the windows down and the parachutes at home!

Stay tuned.

Right now I was attempting to clean up around the house (okay, who the hell am I kidding, Jenna told me to organize my pile of paperwork crap) and wound up trying to close out my last few months of Hawley School entries. You see, I kept pretty good track of lots of data, like the number of students in each particular course (and type of car), number of runs, number of licenses signed, etc. I wasn’t able to completely close out everything to my satisfaction yet, as there were several classes that Thomas Bayer had to instruct all or part of when they conflicted with the NHRA race dates (and I don’t have data on extra runs and licenses), but I will try to get the rest of the info from Tom so I can share what should be some interesting numbers with you all. For instance, I know that I have thrown the starter switch more than 20,000 times during my tenure at the school, and a big class typically would yield only about 75 or less of those runs during a two-day period. It took some time, but eventually it added up.

{GALLERY_zoo}I know that I am off on a major tangent (which is one rank above Captain Tangent) right now, so let me reel myself back in: We returned two days ago from our trip to Delaware to visit Cindy’s sister (Jenna’s aunt) Kathy. Though it has been 15 years since my mother died of cancer, situations like Kathy’s bring back some tough memories for me. I feel for the entire family, including husband George, parents Inez and Bill, son Ken and his family, and Cindy. Dealing with cancer is incredibly tough, but I really think it may be even harder on friends and family than on the person suffering. We all hope for a miracle for Kathy.

While we were out in “the First State,” we took Jason to the Philadelphia Zoo. Coincidently, it happens to be located in Philadelphia. In our typical fashion, we arrived at 3 p.m. (which for Jenna, Jason, and me would altitude correct to 10 a.m.) to find that the zoo was only open for another two hours. But, we haven’t become the masters of “speed tourism” for nothing ... we got it all in, and had time for a quick bite as well. Jason even has adopted our technique. As we would go from display to display, he usually wouldn’t look for more than about 20 seconds before uttering (that would be a really funny use of that word if we were at a cattle exhibit), “see more animals”. We got it done.

Awhile back I had promised a photo of the back of the helmet that I now wear. It was given to me by the 2008 crew (four of whom now are on Matt Hagan’s car) and features caricatures of each of the guys from last year. I know that it is tough to see, but I’ll try to describe each one in an understandable way.

From left to right: The guy with the 600-pound weight on his back is Mark Stewart, our resident power lifter; the shaky “old guy” is Eddie Otto, who was our, well ... older guy; with a cell phone in one hand and a clutch disk in the other; Terry Snyder is the tech guy, with all the latest gadgets, but he still gets dirty; poor Joe Chrisman accidentally whacked his head on the car a couple of times last year, and now he gets immortalized on my helmet; Johnny West definitely would be the tall, thin dude in the middle of this whole deal; “Smokey” Dan Neal certainly can’t be called a quitter, he’s the one puffing on a cig; replete with a Mohawk (the haircut, not the Indian) and battle axe, “Warrior” Chris Kuhlberg is on duty; poor Chris Afflerbach, he asks one too many questions and gets an eroteme (look it up) over his head!; last but not least, the “bulky” guy with the “D” in his belly is world famous Tommy Delago, sometimes known as “Tubby D”. So there you have it, nine of the best guys in the nitro pits. I sure hope at the end of the season this year the guys do the same thing for me, as I can’t wait to see what caricatures they’ll assign to John, Brian, Phil and Troy!

Our eternal bathroom project is still ongoing, and we have decided to legally adopt Jo, as he’s spent enough time around here to be considered a member of the family. He has replaced the damaged subfloor and is in the process of starting to get back to assembly -- as opposed to demolition — mode. I went over to Home Depot tonight to pick up a new shower door. We budgeted about $150 for it after we looked at them last month, and Jo went over there last week to check dimensions on the in-stock models so that he could frame the doorway. I guess we should have bought the door then, as it appears all the area stores have switched suppliers, changed their whole displays, and now the one we need is a special order, two week delay, $100 extra fiasco. Nice! Seems that money is another one of those deals that “add up." Tomorrow I’ll try another store in the morning and, if that doesn’t work, I’m stealing the neighbor’s door while they’re at work, or we’re going to rig up something made from a blue tarp and zip ties.

Speaking of things adding up, how about a guy that’s been racing fuel cars since the '50s and is still out there doing it? Chris Karamesines personifies the term “legend”, and is one of the all-timers (not to be confused with “old-timers”) in my book. He just ran at St. Louis, even qualifying on an incredibly small budget and running out of a trailer smaller than some teams T-Shirt vendor rigs. Somehow I got this photo of him mixing nitro from last year and, even though you can’t see his face, it’s one of my favorite racing photos of all time. Here’s an old-school guy checking nitro the old-school way ... awesome, Greek!

I was really excited that my Yamaha carb parts would be waiting for me when we returned home. Strange that a 42-year-old would get disappointed over something as trivial as that, but I’m still sleeping on the porch waiting for the mailman to bring my stuff. Ironically, I took the Kawasaki out for a short ride today (okay, that’s not ironic, but the next sentence tells what kind of is). When I started it up it sounded like it had a dead cylinder. If you’ve followed this blog, this is what started the whole ripping-the-carbs-apart-on-my-motorcycles deal. This time I played it smarter. I got a long screwdriver, a trusty hammer, and a nice tap on the offending float bowl brought that cylinder right back to life. Easy stuff! I suppose the Yamaha will have to wait until after Bristol, and this time I won’t let it sit for three years again, as that really can mess up the fuel system. I never intended it to be dormant that long but, as we all know, it just adds up.

Apparently the surf was outstanding while I was in Delaware. Let me clarify: the surf in California was great, I doubt Delaware was very impressive. Anyway, Rich said he went out several times, including twice on Saturday, so I couldn’t wait to get back in the water. Apparently (I know I used this word to lead off the paragraph, but it fits and I’m sleepy) the nice swell had come and gone, as it wasn’t that great this time. Oh, I had a blast, no question. Especially since I just love falling off the board time after time and getting spun around under water...that was fun.

Anyway, it’s past 2 a.m. and I’m going to call it a night. The passage of time, like frequent flyer miles, just adds up.

Stay tuned.
 

St. Louis stunk. Not literally, just how it ended for us. Friday it got cold, then it got wet, then it got postponed. Down to two qualifying runs (which has happened more this year than we’re used to), we spun in the first session and still ended up 14th after shutting off at 275 feet. One of the plusses of having only 16 cars entered is you know that you’re going to be in the show once you stage successfully in qualifying. Second session we had to run at the front of the pack (the final qualifying run order is the reverse of each driver’s qualifying position up to that point, with the highest ranked cars running at the back of the pack) due to our aforementioned tire-smoker. We ran a much-improved 4.17 at 299.80, which at the time moved us to fourth. The downside about running up front is that the remainder of the cars can watch and tune off of your run, and by the time the session was over we were down to ninth place. The track was very tricky until enough rubber was laid down by later in the day Sunday (tire spin once off of the concrete pad), and our qualifying speed was the best until final eliminations.

Friday night I did get to go out to dinner with several of the guys on the crew, and we went to one of those Japanese restaurants where they cook the food right in front of you. Apparently “sake bombs” are now the new rage, so I did one with the boys. That’s right … ONE. Okay, I did have a Mai Tai with dinner, but that was it. The guys all partook of “sake shooters,” which is where the cook has a bottle that looks eerily similar to our priming bottle for starting the car, only this one isn’t filled with gasoline, but straight sake. You then have to hold your mouth open while he shoots sake across the table, and you have to swallow as much as possible without spilling. Comical, yes, but not my bag. Being as that I had to drive a 300-mph car the next day, I respectfully declined, all 15 times that I was asked. Let me just say that “my boys” did a number on that bottle … and the next bottle. Then Brian decided to bribe the hostess to take down one of the big masks off the wall so he could model it. I swear I have photos on my Blackberry, and if I ever can figure out how to use the damn thing I’ll forward them to my e-mail to show you guys. It was funny!

Saturday night I had dinner with the birthday boy, the one-and-only “Stat Guy,” Lewis Bloom. He’s holding up remarkably well for a 50-year-old, and he swears there’s no coloring going on with his hair. Must be all of that surfing that keeps him looking young. We were joined by Matt Polito (Lewis and Matt did the photography at our wedding), Bret Kepner, Kevin McKenna, and Kelly Wade. Kevin and Kelly both write for National DRAGSTER, and Kevin and I have been friends since I began driving Top Fuel in 2005. Between Bret, Lewis, Kevin and me, I’m not sure there’s a drag race trivia question that we couldn’t answer. If not, I have Bob Frey on speed-dial and Phil Burgess as my backup. Kepner does TV commentary for Inside Drag Racing and is compiling data on EVERY dragstrip that has ever existed. His numbers are pretty impressive, and he’s even ventured outside the U.S. and North America to further astound us all. Quite an impressive group to hang out with for the evening, though I still think my crew could drink them under the table!

Sunday was a short day for us as we smoked the tires against Force in the first round. It was our second loss of the year in the opening round, and we are still hanging tough in the points. However, we really need to start qualifying higher, not just for pairings and lane choice, but for points. A good example would be that right now we are tied for fourth with Ashley Force Hood, yet we have one more round win than her. That means she has made up 20 points on us in qualifying, which is huge. But, like I’ve said many times in our pre-race press releases, we’re not a great car on Friday or Saturday, but we do know how to get the job done on Sunday! By the way, congrats to Del Worsham and their entire crew for getting their first win with the new team. I know that has to be a great feeling for all of them, and Del, Aaron, AJ and the guys deserved it. That means we already have had five different winners, and I think the potential this year again is huge. Wilkerson, Force, Neff, Hagan, Hight, Cruz and Tony P. all should factor into the win column this year, and Toliver and Arend also know their way into the winner’s circle.

Jayne Tasca (wife of Bob II) sent me these two photos from Atlanta. We just happened to pull into the parking lot about the same time in the morning, and struck up a conversation right by the rental cars. After about five minutes Bob noticed that I was driving a Ford, and boy did he let me have it. It wasn’t until about 10 minutes later, right before we all were going to walk into the track, that I noticed his hypocrisy. Seems “Mr. Ford,” not unlike me, was also renting the “competition’s” brand, as the front emblem on his rental product attests. Let’s just all keep this amongst ourselves.

Last blog I mentioned that our “budget bathroom remodel” project went well in bath #1, and not so good in #2 (please don’t confuse the terms “#1” and “#2”; I am simply assigning numbers to each separate room to avoid confusion). Seems that water damage necessitated removing lots more than originally planned, and Jo and Manny (not to be confused with “Manny, Moe, and Jack” or “Larry, Moe, and Curly” or “Porthos, Athos, and Aramis.” My apologies to d'Artagnan fans worldwide) wound up replacing much of the sub-floor. When I say “much”, the room is only about 42 square feet, so the financial hit shouldn’t be too bad (famous last words). I feel bad for Jo, who really is doing an outstanding job and has been very friendly price-wise on all the extra work and repairs. If we had extra room in the house I think he’d rent, as he’s been here far longer than either of us anticipated. I just checked up on him, and he’s standing in the shower, but the floor is up to his waist. Yeah, we’re replacing a lot of stuff.

 

I haven’t been idle while Jo works, I’ve just shifted my attention over to the original topic of this blog: carbs. Not the kind we try to limit during our meals, the kind that mix fuel into the incoming airstream to power internal combustion engines. We still are on a selling spree around here, and Jenna listed my old Honda 50 pit scooter on Craig’slist, which prompted 23 responses the next day. I do the “first come, first served” philosophy to do the right thing, so I wound up delivering the unit to Lawndale, about 28 miles south of here. We got a little spending cash and more space in the shed. Next!

Yeah, that would be my 1985 Yamaha FJ600, which I bought new while just a mere pup of 19 and serving in the USAF in New Mexico. Over the years it has gotten its share of bumps and bruises, but it still looks all right cosmetically (does that mean it has make-up?). I rode it to work every day for almost a year and a half while I was an elevator man, but once I became a journeyman it entailed carrying tools and parts everywhere, so I parked the bike. I mean I parked it. I don’t think I’ve put 3,000 miles on it in the past 20 years, and leaving anything parked isn’t good. A few years ago I paid someone to go through the carbs to clean all the varnish out, but the bike just never ran the same after it sat. Anyway, while cleaning the scooter and taking photos of it to list, I tried to start the Yamaha. Boy, did I try … and try. Finally I started looking at the choke circuit, as it appeared to be somewhat stuck (How can something be “somewhat stuck”? That’s kinda like “slightly pregnant”). It was. So I looked further (this is usually where I get myself into trouble), and the choke on #2 (again, not a bathroom activity, this is a reference to the second of four carburetors) was frozen. So I began disassembly (this is always where I get myself into trouble).

I separated all four carbs and took them apart one at a time. I figured if I screwed up something I could look at any of the other three to straighten myself out. It’s a good thing I pulled them off, as there was no way this was just a simple fix. Each carb had several things wrong with them, and I learned more after each rebuild. I learned a lot more after I went into my file cabinet to retrieve the pink slip (vehicle ownership paper) for the scooter. That’s when the FJ600 Clymer’s Repair Manual magically appeared. Didn’t know that I had one, don’t know where I got it, but it really had some useful information. So much so, in fact, that I discovered the emulsion tube in each carb was removable. So I went back through them all … again. I also like the sentence that read, “Do not separate carbs by removing connecting brackets, or they may not realign.” Oops! One jet was unable to be removed, and I couldn’t get a wire through it to knock loose the crud plugging it. So I got a safety pin, which also was too big in diameter. So I got a smaller safety pin, which still was too big. So I carefully machined (okay, I used the bench grinder) it down until it did fit, and cleared the offending obstruction. I have two sets of needle and seats on order, and that should fix the last of the problems. I can’t wait to get it back together to see if it runs like it once did. One thing that really made a mess is that the last mechanic must have used some of that “perma-tacky” sealant around the airbox side of the carbs, and a couple sucked that crap (again, not necessarily a bathroom term, just a ubiquitous description we mechanics like to throw around) part way through the circuitry. Probably not the smartest thing to use around the carb intake. I don’t know why I only like to fix stuff up all nice when I’m getting ready to give it to someone else, must be some sort of altruistic personality trait. Or an obsessive sense of guilt.

In the carb photo, I think you can see all of the useful tools, books, and chemicals needed to facilitate a clean, comprehensive rebuild. I’ll let you ponder on the can of Vaseline. Also recommended, but not shown in the photo, are a noose, a hammer, matches (you should have a handy gasoline supply already), and a 12 pack.

Lately I have been fancying myself as the Bob Villa type (no, he’s not an adult film star, he’s that guy that had the home-repair show on TV, which I suppose would technically make him an adult film star). My point is, I now am looking at anything that I can fix, and perhaps even going out of my way to search. I’m not saying I’m sleeping with a tool belt on, I just am in that “groove” right now. For instance, after finding the offending carb pieces, I went into the house to look them up on the internet and order them, and I happened to look up and notice that the condensation drain line had come loose on the roof A/C. Suffering from “self-diagnosed adult onset ADD” (it’s my term, but you can use it if you like), I just couldn’t let it go, so I performed the 10-minute PVC glue fix before resuming my carb duties.

Today I got to ride some waves with Rich, and tonight Jenna, Jason, Cindy and I are flying out to Delaware to visit Cindy’s sister Kathy, who isn’t doing very well with her pancreatic cancer.

When I get home I should have some parts waiting for me, and we’ll see if I use the throttle, the 12 pack, or the Vaseline.

Stay tuned.

PS: I couldn’t let you guys ruminate too long on this … it’s for the O-rings … ON THE CARBS!!
 

Check out what Don Leach made for me! Now I just need to get the city council to name a street for my sign

Thursday started well. I headed over to Twin Palms RV and Boat Storage (Trademarked and Registered, all rights reserved) to pick up the motorhome. While out there Andy and Jim (copyright, not for personal use) bought me lunch for getting their storage company decal into its first winner’s circle in Atlanta. Cool, free lunch! (Maybe that was pushing it on my Karma thing, next time I guess I should treat). After getting the RV back home, I headed down south to join the MTS All-Stars banquet. Each year the outstanding employees of Mail Terminal Services are rewarded with a trip to different places, and this year San Diego hosted our get-together. Rodger asked if I would come down and speak about teamwork, discipline, and the psychology of being the best you can. Cool, free dinner (actually a sandwich box to go, I had a long trip ahead of me).

Being a numbers guy, I’m always crunching data while driving down the road. Things like gas mileage, average speed, estimated time of arrival, and Newton’s Third Law typically keep my mind occupied. Anyway, my odometer had topped 350 miles for the day before I even got back home, and I wasn’t halfway through with my travels. In fact, by the time we pulled into the parking lot of Sacramento Raceway, we had passed the 700-mile mark a ways back.

{GALLERY_bbcrash}I was there to drive the nostalgia Funny Car of Lee and Lee Paul Jennings. I had made a shakedown run last month and was really looking forward to racing in the Funny Car Fever event that was being put on by Lisa and Lee Paul. By 350 feet into the first qualifying run (we were the first pair), I was no longer looking forward to it! After pedaling to try and eliminate the wheelspin then short-shifting for the same reason, all the car was doing was smoking the tires, so it was time to shut off. Then it got ugly. The car began bouncing and rocking side to side, calmed down a bit, and took off again with the hopping. Just before 1000’ (I’ve now been off of the throttle for more than 600’), the rear end took a nasty hop, went way right, and drove the front of the car left into the concrete K-rail (just like the freeway dividers). The hit broke the left rear wheel, and the car contacted the barrier again at 1300’. This time when it came off of the wall, with no left wheel to support it, over I went and slid for about 300’. It’s a very lonely feeling hanging upside-down waiting for the top end crew to get to you. Those guys were outstanding, reaching me in probably 35 seconds, but it seemed more like 35 minutes. They rolled me back onto my “feet” and helped me out. I was absolutely fine, not a scratch, but I wish I could say the same for the once beautiful Vega. I feel so bad for the Jennings family and crew, but everyone was nothing but amazing for the entire weekend.

After my crash and watching most of the cars have some traction issues and all of the left lane runs resulting in spin, it was decided to move the second qualifying run to Saturday in the hopes of a warmer, stickier racing surface.

What’s that saying, “Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?” Well, with the very notable exception of wrecking a gorgeous race car, the rest of my time there was quite enjoyable. A gentleman introduced himself to me in the pits, and I immediately knew who it was. John “Tarzan” Austin was a fixture on the Top Fuel circuit for years, making a name for himself first as Tommy Ivo’s wrench then as a driver. One of the greatest drag race photos of all time is Ivo, in the lights at Pomona, trailing flames and in the process of flipping over. You barely can see the parachute of the other car in the corner of the shot, but that would be “Tarzan” in the other lane. He was always quite a character in an era filled with personalities, and I was so happy he introduced himself to me.

I wound up announcing with my buddies and “pro talkers” Eric and John up in the tower. I got some great feedback from the crowd between rounds, saying they really liked the technical insight. They also asked questions like, “How did it feel to win Atlanta,” “Was that you I saw sliding on your roof last night,” and, “Where’s Tarzan?” Easy: “Great,” “Unfortunately, yes,” and “I don’t know”… in that order.

I was also honored as the Grand Marshal for the race, which was way cool. Lee Paul and Lisa presented me with an awesome trophy on the starting line during opening ceremonies. I was thinking about asking if I could sing the national anthem, but I didn’t want to push my luck. My Karma must’ve been at an all-time low after Friday night, and I needed to nurse it back gently.

Not only did I get to announce all of the Funny Car racing (congrats to Garrett Bateman in the Plueger & Gyger Mustang), but I got to propose to Veronica. Okay, technically it wasn’t ME who proposed; it was her now-fiancée Cameron, but it was cool. They (Cameron, a couple of his friends and family, and obviously his buddies Jack, Jim Beam, and Captain Morgan had been with the group) called me down from the tower and told me of the plan. My job was to lure an unsuspecting Veronica from the grandstands. Piece of cake: In fact, already in just this one day I had helped reunite a lost dog (Moo-Moo… don’t ask, I didn’t name the little guy) with his lost racer dad and found the owner of a lost cell phone (that was made easier by the findee asking if I recognized the photo on the screensaver as that of my son. Yep, got my wife back her phone!). Anyway, I just made a P.A. announcement that Veronica had lost some personal items, and we were getting ready to call the pawn shop and sell to the highest bidder. Man, did that work… she was there in a flash, huffing and puffing like she’d just ran a marathon. This little story has a happy ending, as Cameron did his deal, Veronica cried and hugged him, Moo-Moo got dinner at home, and Jenna still has her phone. Chock up one deposit in the old Karma bank!

Sunday we chatted with the Jennings before hitting the road. Jenna took a shot (photo, that is) of Lee Paul, Lisa, and Josh with me. Josh is so courteous, and Lee Paul might be the only guy on earth who would make Robert Hight finish second in “the-most-polite-man-in-the-universe-pageant.” Wonderful family, and I wish I could wave a wand and fix their car.

While back on the positive-mojo thing, we decided to head over and see OUR state capitol for the first time. It’s very grand looking, with some incredible trees surrounding the grounds. They must be at least 150 years old, but that didn’t stop Jason from wanting to climb them. It has to be DNA-programmed as he’s never seen kids climb trees before, but he just KNEW he had to do it. After we did a quick tour, Jenna showed her genetic disposition to get too close to the lawn sprinklers. Amazing how quickly they can get your butt wet, but I was still far too sensitive from my Friday experience to make any jokes.

Once back home, it was time to just rest up and get ready for St. Louis. In the two years that I’ve raced there, I wouldn’t exactly rave about my performance. In fact, I’ve never worked a Sunday yet at the event, so I needed to recharge and reinvigorate my inner-racer. Perhaps some manual labor would help? Jo has pretty well finished the demo in our second bathroom, and he came to me with some not-so-good news: seems there’s been some water damage around the shower stall, with several of the 2 x 4s suffering rot. Hey, what’s a few hundred dollars amongst friends? I should have let it go there! After he had left I made the mistake of walking in to see what things looked like. You know, sometimes “good enough” really is, but not for me. Even though we are selling the place eventually, I can’t let things slide by. Nope, I had to get in there and replace some wood, which required LOTS of disassembly to remove the offenders. This in turn revealed more compromised wood, which (I think you’re following me now) required extra demolition. So, after knocking out a couple hundred pounds of sheetrock, plaster, and cement wallboard (did I mention I knocked a hole through into the bedroom and Jenna wasn’t happy?), I was ready to cut, drill, and reinstall some fresh lumber. Next time, I’ll just leave the door closed and call it good, cuz now I get to practice my hole-patching and painting skills AGAIN! I’ll talk about the sub-flooring at a later date, once the checkbook heals.

Have you noticed how many people are using iPods lately? They seem to be hugely popular, and many racers wear them in the staging lanes. Well, the Cannons got me one for Christmas, and I suppose letting it age for three months should be enough. You see, I definitely am not on the “leading edge” when it comes to new gadgets. Just learning how to program it was a bit daunting, but I think I’m getting the hang of it. One thing that did occur to me, though, as I was uploaded most of my CD collection, is that 1989 seems to be about the most recent release date for the majority of my catalogue. Ah, yes, 1989: hair bands, Gary Ormsby, Bruce Larson, and Bob Glidden were all enjoying their final championships, and I was 23. The good old days!

Perhaps my trip down memory lane, along with my iPod full of “hair” and “metal” (hope it doesn’t jam the electronics inside) will give my “Karma Chameleon” (even though Boy George had long hair, you will NEVER find him on my iPod!!!!) the boost it needs to bring home some gold from St. Louis.

Stay tuned.

Allow me to catch you up on my happenings from the time I headed to Atlanta until last Thursday: I flew into the capitol of Georgia (that’s the beginning of this “Karma” thing) early Wednesday morning (as in waking up at 3:30 a.m. after hitting the bed at 1:30!). I was a bit on the tired, cranky, and sore side after trying to sleep on the airplane. How come when I was 10 it was SO easy to sleep in those seats and now they just hurt my neck? Sometimes it’s cool to meet people on the flight, and this trip my new bestest buddy was Rodney. Rodney had the aisle seat, and I was stuck in the middle. Call it Karma. Rodney was (and still is) 320 pounds and 6’4”. Rodney was wider than the seat he was in. Rodney and I cuddled for the better part of 2,300 miles, and I think we’re legally married now! He was visiting his girlfriend in L.A. and was a very friendly guy. People seem fascinated when I tell them what I get to do for a living, and I think we’ve got several more television viewers based on my sharing my “space” with my flight pals.

I landed in Atlanta at 1:30 in the afternoon, headed over to the hotel, and caught an hour nap. Okay, I did hit up Church’s Fried Chicken and detoured by Wal-Mart to pick up some supplies before naptime. I had a meeting with the MTS management team Wednesday evening in the hotel ballroom. They were all in town for a training session, so I got to address the group and bring them up to speed on the race team’s activities, especially the Mail from Home program success. Then I went to sleep. Okay, I caught a movie at the local theatre. I rarely get to go anymore, so if I have extra time on the road I’ll settle in with my $5 Coke and $7 popcorn to enjoy my $9 movie. I think of it as buying $21 worth of Karma, which I think is equal to 3 gross now. Or 7 Kelvin, which as you know is basically 12.4 International Units, 9.13 SEER, or 24 Gauge for those of you who fancy terminology relating to shotguns. Please don’t confuse any of these numbers with the Torino Impact Hazard Scale, which has nothing to do with popcorn at all. Then I went to sleep.

Thursday I had to meet Rodger at the local MTS terminal for our open house, which featured the MTS show car (not to be confused with my rental car, which was much slower but got way better mileage. In fact, I think I averaged about 32.4 mpg, which is about a seven on the Mercalli Magnitude Scale — 24 Candela or 73 Mole to you science geeks). Anyway, here’s where my Karma went straight into the crapper (so named for Thomas Crapper, who erroneously was given credit for inventing the flush toilet, hence the term, “that’s a bunch (cr&*$). I had an hour and a half to kill, and I was “Jonesing” for some pancakes. I don’t think that I am addicted to pancakes, but I sure do love the buttermilk variety at IHOP. So, I plugged that restaurant into my Magellan GPS (that’s a lot of acronyms in one paragraph), and arrived ASAP (Get it? See how I added one more acronym? Very clever).

That’s when the trouble started. I began to have thoughts about cheating on Jenna. I still had an hour to kill, and it would be so easy to just do it and not say anything to her. Nobody really had to know, so why not? But it just wouldn’t be the same without her, and I might not even enjoy it without her there, so perhaps I should just wait? Nah, why not just take advantage while it’s so accessible! So I did my thing for the next 45 minutes, and took some pictures to share with all of you.

I have no idea where your mind was, but I’m talking about visiting the state capitol, something Jenna and I have been doing together for a few years. What were you thinking? I was so close to downtown that I decided to jet (that term obviously comes from the airplane engine) over and take a quick peek at what Georgia had to offer. By the time I circled the block twice looking for parking, found a metered spot 5 blocks away, and made the hike, I had about 12 minutes to run around as fast as I could and snap photos. I didn’t get a chance to enjoy it too much, what with me “cheating” and all, but I did notice that the paint on the ceiling of the dome was peeling pretty badly. I think the same guy that painted the exterior of my house must have done this, as the prep work obviously was lacking. I tell you, if they gave me a couple of days time, along with some brushes and rollers, I think I could do wonders with the inside of that place!

After my run (literally) through the capitol, I jogged back to the car. I was planning how I would break the news of my illicit visit to my lovely wife once I returned home, but for now I had to get over to the MTS open house. Designed to thank existing customers and show potential new partners the advantages of using MTS over their current shippers, it’s sometimes a bit awkward being the only race car driver in uniform (which will never be confused for camouflage) in the building. It’s cool when motorsports enthusiasts come in, and I usually will give them a tour of the car. This time we had several in attendance and a couple who watch us regularly. We actually let four of them crawl into the car (not all at once), and then we lowered the body down over them. I think I heard one whimpering like a little kid, and I’m pretty sure the seat wasn’t wet before we let them in there.

Friday morning I was up bright and early to do the Army YES program, and this time I shared the stage with Steve Johnson. Steve and I go way back, both attending the street races in Southern California back in the ’80s. He’s truly a self-made man and has worked tirelessly to secure sponsorships, build crews and bikes, and become the competitive racer and representative that he is today. He also must be hooked up intravenously to a caffeine dispenser and being next to him is like power-chugging 2 cans of Full Throttle. We had fun with our three rotations of students.

Qualifying was interesting. We did some changes to the fuel system to try to step the car up at the hit of the throttle, and the results were kind of promising. The 60’ looked great, but the reaction times sucked. Normally you’d just write that off to a driver who just cheated on his wife and is riddled with guilt but not so fast! I’m highly suspicious when I see inordinately quick 60’ times and poor reactions across the board on the qualifying sheets, and that’s just what we had in Atlanta. This tells me the rollout probably is slightly longer (more) than most tracks, and we see this about 6-8 times a year. Though NHRA and Jeff Foster do a good job trying to keep this uniform at all 22 venues, I’m not sure if it’s possible to make it consistent for all classes (it’s checked with a dragster-style front wheel and tire, but that only blocks the beam in one location, similar to a motorcycle. All other vehicles have two front tires, which makes it much tougher to adjust the rollout exactly the same at each track). Anyway, my typical light from shallow is between .095 and .115, and I was in the .130 range here, as were most of the other drivers. Race day all bets are off, as nearly every Funny Car driver (and some of the dragsters as well, though they are slightly quicker in reaction due to lighter weight and a more aggressive launch) rolls in a few inches to keep our fragile egos intact (it makes the reaction time LOOK better, though it robs the e.t. by basically the same amount as it helps the reaction time). Anyway, by run four it was clear that our tune-up, while showing potential, wasn’t responding to the changes the way we expected. We still ended up 7th, which isn’t bad, but we really need to work on being a top 5 qualifier at most races.

During qualifying a young fan came over with a cool Pinewood Derby car. If any of you guys were in the Scouts growing up, you know how cool it was to take your dad’s hacksaw (and other tools, if they weren’t locked up) to that virgin chunk of pine and try to transform it into something that looked like a racecar. I really thought it was awesome what this young man did, so I ran and grabbed my camera to snap a shot. Hell, I hadn’t done anything positive for my karma since my Capitol “A” adventure (okay, that’s a REAL stretch for even you literary types, but I was trying to make a funny, veiled reference to The Scarlet Letter), so I thought a nice picture would help.

Saturday night I was invited to dinner by Roger Burgess, of R2B2 Racing. Roger owns ProCare Rx and is still looking to secure sponsorship to get Melanie Troxel out racing again. Melanie and Tommy were also there, as were Rodger and Karen Comstock, Barb Burgess, Al and Donna Billes, and “Dr. Don.” We ate at a golf course country club… very upscale. I kind of wish I hadn’t worn my cutoff jean shorts and wife-beater tank top, but that’s all I had for clean clothes (I’m joking… I had on sweat pants and a hoodie — still kidding). It really was a lot of fun, though I think the red wine played a role in that, but we all had a great time, and I thank Roger and Barb for their hospitality.

Sunday was odd, kind of reminding me of Seattle in 2007 (which also worked out very well for me). When I woke up and looked out the hotel room, the overwhelming chance of rain had come to fruition, and I really just wanted to go back to bed for a couple of hours, though I think the red wine played a role in that (that sentence must’ve accidentally been repeated from the preceding paragraph). I decided it would be prudent to go ahead and drive out to the track.

Have you ever woke in a panic, swearing you were late for work and that the alarm clock must have malfunctioned, only to realize about 30 seconds later that it’s Saturday and all is okay? Well, that feeling that was with you for that period of time came to me as I approached the track. KNOWING that I would be in entry traffic for at least half an hour, I had left plenty early, only to encounter ABSOLUTE ZERO (which is -459 degrees Fahrenheit) for traffic. For a brief moment I thought my watch had malfunctioned, my calendar was lying to me, or I had been transported by aliens to a parallel universe with no traffic. It was weird, and it was the only time I have driven straight into a track with no delays whatsoever (just who came up with the brilliant idea of stringing “what,” “so,” and “ever” together to make one single word? I’m not sure if “whenasmuch,” “whatthatmeans,” or “justthatlittle” also can be found in the dictionary).

Speaking of delays, we had plenty, and I loved every minute of it. We didn’t have the best car out there, and we ran pretty lackluster (again, someone just stuck those words together and coined another cool term) round one against Robert Hight. Following that, we put the fuel system back the way it was in Vegas and tuned off our notes. Beating Force second round by .003 was very satisfying, and getting by Wilkerson in the semi’s was outstanding. However, the odds of us beating three Force cars and four Mustangs in one day were looking pretty slim, as Ashley had everyone covered by a bunch. She was EIGHT miles an hour better than our best run! So, that big delay brought about by the rain was a welcome sight for me. Running a fuel Funny Car at night is great… if you’re a fan. Many of these tracks are just too dark to run us after dusk, and the floppers are much harder to see out of than the dragsters. I don’t know about Ashley, but it was difficult to see in the left lane. Fortunately, things worked out for us, and we got to enjoy our first winner’s circle of the year. Sort of. Due to the long weather delay, there was no podium for the four Pro champs. (Heck, there weren’t even four of us yet, as Mike Edwards had to wait until Monday to collect his trophy. A huge congratulations to Morgan Lucas and Eddie Krawiec for winning their first Pro races. I know how gratifying it is for both of them, and congrats to Mike for his first win of the year). Just about the time we were setting up to take photos, the rain came with a vengeance, so we moved everything under the tower for our mugshots (again, stick two words together and become a hero).

If you saw the ESPN2 coverage, you heard me tell my son Jason that I would be coming home with the “Waa-wee,” which is as close as he can come to pronouncing it. It’s been funny how many people picked up on that and said something to me. When I got home there were over 220 e-mails waiting for me. Throw out the 40 forwarded jokes, 35 for Viagra, 21 for “enhanced bedroom performance,” and the 18 or so from Bob Tasca trying to sell me a Ford Focus, and there were still lots of congrats sent to me. I always appreciate that and apologize if I didn’t get back to everyone. Wilky even called me to say good job, which I thought was mighty cool of him, even if he does drive a Ford.

So, what does the Funny Car champ from Atlanta get to do to celebrate the big win? A ticker-tape parade, you say? Perhaps a block party with a keg or two? A greeter and limo to meet me at the airport? Nope, just right back to painting and bathroom work (not the kind of bathroom work where I sit and read National DRAGSTER). No, this is the REALLY fun stuff, like hanging a new mirror on a 56-year-old wall that hasn’t been plumb or straight since I was born. Now that the tile is done, we’re buttoning everything up, including painting the vanity. But not JUST painting, that’s not my style. I need something that that takes far too much time and causes excess aggravation, kind of like dating (which I HAVE NOT done in the past 2 years… bad for the karma). So, I took the drawer, doors, and all hardware off to replace it with handles and hinges that didn’t have 23 coats of paint. Then I sanded everything, and I mean everything. Two coats of paint later (did I mention I spackled, sanded and painted the walls as well?) and it looks pretty nice for a budget job. The piece de resistance (my keyboard won’t let me put all those fancy French symbols over the letters), which means “outstanding accomplishment” (which fits), or “principal portion of a meal” (which would be a horrible application in this example), was the installation of the new toilet seat. I personally think that National DRAGSTER should offer one with each new membership purchased by males, but that’s just my humble opinion. Anyway, you know how women try on dresses, we all try on shoes, and most test drive potential vehicle before purchasing? I don’t think it would go over too well in Home Depot to have an area where you can sit on each potential candidate to pick the best fit, so we did the next best thing: we had Jason help us pose to see if this seat had “the right look.”

I again want to thank all of you who read this, as it sometimes is a real pain to find a couple of hours to sit and write down (let alone try to remember) my activities for the past 10-14 days, but your feedback at the races really keeps me excited to share with you. Also, many of you had written to shoeracing.com to inquire (that’s French for “bitch about”) as to when a die-cast of our car would be available. Well, the prototype of the Valvoline car is going through final approval and should be out in June, and I’m told that the Mail Terminal Services design will be ready in July. I’m not holding my breath, but I think it’s going to finally happen! Thanks again for the interest that you’ve shown, it’s very flattering and humbling. Here’s a sneak-peek at the prototype:

I would also like to congratulate the entire crew and DSR group for getting into the winner’s circle in Atlanta. The NAPA and Shelor.com crews helped us prepare after they were eliminated, and the teamwork that goes on at Schumacher Racing is very inspiring. So, for myself, Johnny West, John Collins, Chris Afflerbach, Troy Allen, Phil Austin, Joe Chrisman, Chris Kuhlberg, Brian MacDermott, and Mark Stewart, as well as the guys back in the shop who give us a great chassis, the hospitality group who keeps us fed, and the rest of the DSR staff who keep this circus going down the road, we thank you!
Next column my Karma bites back! Stay tuned.

Jack

PS- Congrats to Mr. and Mrs. Jason Russell Jorgenson. My cousin, Jason, and Stephanie were married on the 18th out on Catalina Island. I wish I could have attended, but I had to go get Jason his “Waa-Wee,” so here’s a shot that Jenna took.

Before you think that someone snuck into our house and graffitied our bathtub, that’s done in Jason’s markers and crayons, which wipe right off (or so we’ve been told). The artwork is what Jason likes me to do at bath time, and he and I have a great time, though my artwork hasn’t improved at all since we started.

Speaking of baths, there won’t be any more for about a week. No, no, we’re not doing our Robin Williams impersonations here; it’s just that the bathroom is out of order. No, no, I didn’t break it sitting in there reading National DRAGSTER; we’re doing a budget remodel to make the house more sellable. Though the construction dust and noise are a major hassle (and we’ll be doing the same to the other bath in about two weeks, the results should be well worth it). I took the liberty of taking some “before and after” shots to show you what I mean: In the before pic, check out the hospital psycho-ward-looking tile, and how about that medicine cabinet? It looks like something you’d see in an I Love Lucy rerun. It’s cool to know that people had bad taste back in the ‘70s, too. I’m really happy with the “after” photo. What do you think of the “man-look” to that raw concrete around the sink? And who needs a flush toilet when you can get those cool five-gallon buckets in many colors, shapes, and handle designs! Okay, we’re not quite to the completion yet, so I’ll show the finished results later. It’s like I said earlier, no pride! I can handle it, I’m a man.

Though my last blog wasn’t posted until after Easter, it didn’t include any of the activities from t

hat Sunday, so here goes; the three of us headed out to Pasadena to spend time with Jenna’s father’s side of the family. Grandpa Bill got to play with both of his grandbabies in the park, and Leia and Eric are expecting another in November. Little Jack will be 2 in June, so being a big brother should be a lot of fun for him. Jason’s going to have to be okay with having cousins, because his dad’s falling apart and can barely keep up with him (I hope that all of this writing in the “third party” doesn’t get too confusing), never mind having one more. Jason really liked having his Granddad swing him, and he chased Cousin Jack around the park.

We headed home at 2 p.m., as we had Cindy and my family coming over for dinner. My Grandma, Uncle John, and Cousin Jason with his oh-so-close-to-being-his-wife Stephanie all came out to see their favorite relative: my son. Being that no one was going to show up for another two hours after we arrived, I still had all of the painting supplies out, and the eaves bordering the driveway no longer met my newer, tougher standards (how come it’s okay for your house to look like crap for years, but at the time you decide to sell it you start panicking and fixing all the stuff that was “good enough” for you?), it was time to get to work: scrape, sand, prime, fill, sand, paint, and more paint. Done, but now the front of the house looks a bit questionable to me … when does it end? Heck, I even bought a bag of concrete last week to patch a gap in the backyard that probably was there since Eisenhower was in office. I’m on fire (I probably shouldn’t say that in my line of work)!

Anyway, back to Easter Sunday: Jason (the tall one) and Stephanie set up an Easter egg hunt for Jason (the short one). If I’m being honest (and I try my best to), Jason (the tall one) and I sat on the couch and watched UFC while Steph did the labor. Sorry, Jason (the tall one).

While staying on the honesty thing, Jason (big one) spun Jason (little one) round and round and then stood him on the ground, where the effects of motion disorientation (that’s a fancy term for “vertigo”, which is a clinical term for “dizziness,” which is a euphemism for “nauseous”) were readily apparent. I have to say that we all laughed quite a bit watching little man stumble, but we had to draw the line at three sessions, any more would be bordering on child abuse. Sorry, Jason (both varieties). It actually looks like the little guy is practicing surfing.

Jason (little one) got a toy parachute that I was throwing for him. Just what are the odds that the one phone line that runs through the backyard would snag his new plaything after just three throws? Photo one shows my amazing athletic ability, combined with my ingenuity: I took my Grandma’s cane and did my best high-jump to dislodge aforementioned toy. Photo two shows me two minutes after reality set in. Uncle John held Jason on his shoulders while I unhooked the offending skydiver from the improperly placed phone cable. I have to say that through all of this I didn’t let it wound my pride in the least. I hung tough, just like a man.

Speaking of Jason and Stephanie, they will be tying the knot this Saturday out on Catalina Island (about 25 miles off the Pacific coast from Long Beach) while I am qualifying (hopefully No. 1) in Atlanta (located in the Southeastern portion of the United States, somewhere in Georgia). I really am going to miss being there, but things like this go with the territory when you drive a pro car. Cindy, Jenna, and Jason will be heading over there, and I’m so happy for my cousin and future cousin-in-law. Congratulations to both of you.

While my entire body still aches, and I haven’t lost my ambition, I kept plugging along with the housework. It was overdue for me to clean and organize the shed (that’s Latin for “separate structure where men stack crap for decades”), so I started emptying stuff out. I discovered that I still had a Honda scooter and my 1985 Yamaha FJ (that stands for “Fast Jack”) 600 in there amongst the junk. We are going to try to sell them, so I decided to break out the wax and cleaning supplies. And battery charger. I’m batting .500 right now, as the scooter runs, but the Yamaha obviously is in need of some of my newfound carburetor skills (as previously applied to my Vulcan 1500). That project will have to wait until after Atlanta. And the back door. And the painting. And catching up on all my UFC shows on TiVo (but never letting my pride get in the way).

Before I started in on the shed, but after finishing my painting projects, it was time to clean the garage. Having the old couch and loveseat in there really was putting a cramp on my “man-space”, so I figured I’d load them one at a time and take them to Goodwill. Jenna saw how I have been favoring my back and decided she’d call them for a pickup (okay, actually she called the Salvation Army, but that just doesn’t fit the title and theme of this blog, so let’s just stick with Goodwill for now).

So, get this; they won’t take my couches, my pride (oops, there’s that word) and joy since 1992, my man-furniture that I picked out myself (and Jenna won’t let me forget it) and have spent countless hours practicing the art of the horizontal chakra on. Can you imagine, I can’t GIVE AWAY my stuff! Now, my “wounded-pride meter” just went from zero to 10 in one second. I am hurt, mortified, ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated, offended, horrified, affronted, miffed, damaged, marred, and indignant beyond belief. I am upset, distressed, saddened, disturbed, troubled, disconcerted, and grieved. I am rambling, confused, long-winded, incoherent, and wordy, so I imagine that I should stop, discontinue, end, bring to a close, cease, abstain from, and otherwise put the ‘chutes out on this soliloquy before my pride takes another hit, strike, punch, thump, slap, beating, smack, whack, or bang (okay, now I’m overdoing a good thing, sorry).

Jenna wanted to throw them away, and when she called me with that notion I got a bit upset (mad, enraged, troubled … oops). We just stuck a “free” sign on them and they were gone in a few hours.

I got fingerprinted today, but I did nothing wrong. Okay, I’ve posted several photos of my son’s butt, and I did steal those crates that I use around the house, and I’ve certainly overdone the synonyms on this blog, but other than that I’ve been pretty good. I do school and hospital appearances occasionally for a group called Racers Who Care, and this is just one of the requirements for Los Angeles schools. It was all done over clear glass and registered onto a computer monitor, very high tech and cool to watch.

My plane takes off at 6 a.m. tomorrow for Atlanta, as I have a couple of appearances to do on behalf of Mail Terminal Services. Since I just sent in a blog (and mine are 20 pages long), I’ll have Jenna wait a day or two before she sends this in to Phil Burgess and Candida Benson at National DRAGSTER.

My family’s thoughts have been with Kathy Leon in Delaware for the past year or more, as she is suffering from pancreatic cancer. Kathy is Cindy’s sister, Jenna’s aunt, and a great lady. She recently has been struggling with the chemo treatments and is discontinuing them, so let’s all keep her in our thoughts and prayers. Next month we’ll head out for a visit to try and keep her spirits up. I could clean her shed, fix her motorcycle, redo her paint, take a picture of her grandnephew’s butt, nap on her recliner, show her my fingerprints, check out her thesaurus, lose her parachute, patch her concrete, or spin her around really fast until she gets dizzy. Or, I could let my wife throw out her furniture. Whatever it takes to get her back strong again!

I’m out, absent, away, elsewhere. … you get it, bye!
 

Our” issue” surfaced after returning from Vegas and my wife anxiously trying to access the missed episodes of American Idol. Seems that the DVR “dumped” one of them, as it was at maximum capacity. Jenna about blew a gasket, complaining that my seven episodes of UFC had overloaded the machine. I simply told her that if she hadn’t been selfish, wanting to ALSO record Dancing with the Stars, that she wouldn’t have lost the A.I. show. That’s when she told me I’m dead if the bedroom recorder didn’t pick it up (stop shaking your heads, guys!). All turned out well, except I got stuck watching the last five minutes of D.W.T.S. I’d rather put itching powder inside my firesuit in July than watch that show!

Vegas was tough on us, with another second-round exit. I really am happy for my teammates though. Tony Shoe got his second win, and Capps his third. And how about Matt Hagan and team, their first NHRA Funny Car final together, and he drove his butt off all day. It won’t be long before he bags his first win, I’d just like to squeeze one of our own in before that (Atlanta would be nice).

We drove out in the motorhome on Tuesday night, pulling into the track at 1:30 am (standard deal for the Beckman family). Problem is, Jason stayed up until we got there. He very much is a night owl like his father, but this was ridiculous. I feel bad that we interrupt his schedule so much, between home, air travel, and taking the RV to races, but I do love having my family with me. We parked in the lot with the pro rigs and called it a night.

Wednesday morning it was time to park, unhook the PT, level, set up shades and awnings, and slide the pop-outs into the “big-ass” position. Then I had to drive into town for the NHRA press conference, held in the ESPN Zone of the Hard Rock Casino. Capps and Force were the other featured drivers (NHRA tries to rotate the participants to keep it interesting for the local media), which guaranteed it would be entertaining. My friend and Air Force contact, Pam Robinson, accompanied me. Pam writes for a veteran’s publication and enjoyed listening to Force ramble and Capps and me trying to keep up. I’m not sure what was going on when Pam snapped this shot, but John needed a comb and two more buttons, and just what the heck is Ron doing? Phil Burgess should have a “name the photo caption” contest with this one!

From the luncheon I headed over to the United States Bowling Conference center to get my very own bowling ball. 15 of us were invited to participate in this tournament. 17,000 teams, 85,000 bowlers strong from around the world come in over the 5 month contest and bowl. Me, I should have stayed on the couch and watched UFC. Let me digress: I typically bowl once every few years, and the last time I went Jenna was VERY pregnant (it’s somewhere in my blog archives, I think it was in Vegas in October of ’06 with my team). No, I’m not equating bowling with pregnancy in any way. Bowling doesn’t cause pregnancy, people cause pregnancy. (No bad jokes about bowler’s balls here, please. And no more shaking your head). My point is, it’s not my thing, and I only do it to have some fun with friends. When the teams were assigned, Del Worsham gave me a call and said they had a practice scheduled over at his shop. Chuck and Del are avid bowlers, and the upstairs of their funny car shop is a man’s paradise: it’s got a wet bar, pool table, pinball, and an honest-to-goodness two-lane bowling alley. I’d even wager that they have TiVo, and that they NEVER record any dancing shows. I don’t know how they ever got anything done on the racecars! I bowled two games, an unheard-of-for-me 156 and a typical 115. I decided to stop while I was ahead, I just wish I could have used that 156 in Vegas. Hell, I’d have taken the 115!

So I now have my very own bowling ball, drilled just for me. It was the first “finger-tip” ball I have ever tried, and it definitely affects the throw until you get used to it. That obviously must take more than three games … or lots of alcohol. More on that later (the bowling, not the drinking).

Once I got back to the track, I was invited to host one of the NHRA media/VIP races by Rick Quezada, who handles much of their media relations and PR. I even got to race the winner, meaning that I got my butt handed to me twice during the race weekend! Those Pontiacs must have some kind of “drive by wire” throttle setup, as they don’t move for a couple of tenths after you floor the gas. Really, I swear … that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I did leave first, but was driven around by 200 feet and physically couldn’t press any harder on the throttle without breaking something (like my right foot), so down I went.

Thursday I met Pam Robinson at the Nellis Air Force Base gate so we could do our twice-a-year hospital visit. David Martinez and Ceil Smith also typically accompany us on the tour, making sure the patients that I visit are not under isolation, or NASCAR fans. (There’s some people we’re just not allowed to visit. You’re shaking your head again). They treat me so well there that it can be a bit embarrassing. They literally had a reserved parking sign out front for me, which I noticed after I cleverly parked halfway across the parking lot and walked to the entrance.

After dining with the troops and visiting all of the patients, it was time to go bowl. Let’s just say that my bowling and driving were similar this particular weekend in Vegas: seldom straight, and some close calls, but not much hit. I opened with a 115, got a consistent 117 on game two, and actually had three strikes in the third game. I’m starting to believe that the automatic scoring system must have malfunctioned, as an “86” is almost not possible with three strikes. If they had just set some pins in the gutters for me I’d easily have hit 100! Thankfully the rest of the funny car guys held their own and we got the victory. Matt Hagan, also a new bowler, actually hit 126 in game three. I give him the “most improved” award, as during warm-ups he actually threw his ball into the other lane. I believe he did it just to intimidate the dragster and Pro Stock guys, as he got better with each game. Funny, I looked pretty good in warm-ups and SHOULD have thrown my ball into the other lane in game three; at least it would have been an amusing way to add a “0” in the score for that frame! I included this photo just to remember what it was like to watch my ball actually go down the MIDDLE of the lane. (I think game three was a fluke, Johnny missed the tune-up, and my ball kept dropping holes and pulling right, at least that’s my story). The real stars of our team were Arend, Hight, and Worsham. Those three can bowl very well, and kept throwing strikes all day long. Del was high for us at 198, and Robert and Jeff were rock-solid with their scoring.

After bowling, I packed up my low-use new ball (after all, it really hasn’t made contact with much) and headed to the Stratosphere Casino for an autograph session. DSR has partnered with the hotel for our Vegas races, and we even had a NAPA car there for display. (I stole a spark plug from it to try and stop Capp’s winning streak, but I was just told that was the show car, NOT the race car. Go figure!). (Hey, stop it … I see you shaking your head again). After an hour or so I again packed up, fought Vegas traffic (If you’ve never been there, it sucks worse than L.A.) and landed at the Palm’s for the NHRA fan fare. They really did a great job again this year packing the place with hardcore drag fans, and there were probably 20 drivers in there signing away. By the time I got back to the motorhome at the track, I had been away about 11 hours and was pretty tired. Apparently embarrassment is quite fatiguing.

Friday was interesting. The Vegas and NHRA staff always do everything in their power to give us the best racetrack in the country, but something was different this year. I’m not sure if it was the amount of dust that blew onto the track throughout the weekend, but it just wasn’t the typical Vegas that we see. Not for lack of effort on the Safety Safari’s behalf, as these men and women went above and beyond to try to salvage Friday’s Pro session. Funny Car and Pro Stock each got to run once, but after the first Top Fueler oiled the track, it was obvious the elements were winning the battle, and the track and fans lost out. Earlier rains, persistent winds and lots of dust (along with cooler temperatures) made for a strange opening day for the Pros. Add to that a 45 minute delay to replace the Christmas tree in the middle of Funny Car qualifying, many aborted runs, and times that weren’t anywhere near what this track usually gives out, and we all began to look forward to Saturday. Our Friday run netted an unusual, long-lasting but low intensity tire shake run that I finally aborted. Very odd.

When all else fails, “eat, drink, and beat Mary” (or something like that). Friday night Rodger and Karen invited several friends to our semi-regular “Buca-de-Beppo dinner. It’s an Italian-food restaurant chain with some unusual decor and ambiance and great food, and we always have fun. We also had a 5-liter bottle of wine. I’m not sure what the Imperial conversion is on the metric liter, but I would estimate somewhere around 26 gallons. If you don’t believe me, check out this photo of Dick Vander Meer and me. Dick’s either got a bad case of the “drunks” or forgot his SPF 30 that day, and I look like I’m either .12 BAC or a relative of Rain Man (I’m going with the latter on both counts). My right hand was just too damn sore from bowling to hold the bottle, so Dick was my “wingman” for the heavy lifting.

Saturday we ran better, but I had my hands full in the right lane with the car trying to drive right (the groove in that lane starts well left of center and continues towards the centerline, eventually ending up about 6 feet from the middle of the lane). If you watched the coverage you’d know what I mean about the track being tricky. We ended up 13th, as our third and final run the car just didn’t respond to having the “wick” turned up … hmmm. The highlight of Saturday was getting to hang out with (including trips in the Suburban up to the line and down to the top end to get me after each run) my new buddy Cody. Cody currently is going through chemotherapy and was introduced to me by Chris Rivas and Racers For Christ. Cody is a great young man, and he had such a good time he came back Sunday for more of the same. He even got to be on ESPN with me after our round one victory.

After qualifying Jenna and I headed back into town. Cindy was watching our little man, and we decided to see a show with our friends Paul and Jessica Mitsos. We saw Danny Gans, who does lots of singing, jokes, and impressions. After the first ten minutes I was thinking that the $110 per ticket must include free parachute packing for the next year, as I was feeling like “my ‘chute had just been packed” (if you know what I mean). As the show got rolling along I guess I understood more why he started it the way he did, and I have to tell you it was one helluva performance, so he’s off the hook as far as the ‘chutes go.

We didn’t have time to eat before the show, but thankfully Jenna bought a $14 margarita in the lobby before the performance, so we had something to snack on. I kept looking for a ten dollar bill in the bottom of the glass, but no luck. Fourteen bucks … I think Mr. Gans needs to do the ‘chutes at least twice next time we’re in town! By the time the show ended, we looked at restaurants in the hotel (long waits), got the Mitsos car from valet (long wait), and braved the Vegas traffic to drive 3 blocks (long waits), ate, went back to get our car, and got back to the track, it was well past midnight. I didn’t feel too bad though, as my fingers (and pride) had heeled from the bowling, my arm soreness from pouring wine was gone, and the carpal tunnel from autographs was fading.

Sunday was great … if your last name was Hagan or Capps. We did beat arguably the best all-around car (and an ever-improving driver) with our first round squeaker over Ashley, and we were leading Hagan second round when trouble struck. At about 180 feet into the run we dropped the #8 cylinder, and the car made an immediate move to the right. I had the wheel turned left as far as my firesuit would allow my arms to move, but the wall just kept getting closer. I stayed on it as long as I could, as I had no idea where Matt was, but he hadn’t driven around us yet. Finally, it was obvious that it was pushing so hard I wouldn’t be able to bring it back, and I lifted. I doubt the headers missed the wall by more than a foot, and I really didn’t want to hit anything (no bowling jokes, please).

After watching my teammates in the finals, it was time to pack up, head home, and get stuff done. We pulled into Cindy’s house Sunday evening, got up early, and headed out to look at more houses that we really can’t afford. I replaced the water pump on the motor home, as it had been acting up. I really can’t feel too badly, as it had been in there a whole two years (yeah, I’m being VERY sarcastic on this one). We purchased another unit from Las Vegas Monaco at the track, so I figured it would be easy to just swap it out. Or not. Seems the one in the RV is better flow and less amp draw, plus it has a different bracket to mount it. So the logical thing to do would be to get another like model, right? Hell no, what’s the fun in that? It’s time for “Doctor Disassemble” to dissect, investigate, and repair (that’s what I typically think right before I ruin something mechanical or electrical and have to go buy a replacement). I took the motor apart to clean and inspect the commutator and brushes, then dove into the pump portion. After cleaning everything, I decided to replace the micro switch that activates the unit and see if that fixes it. Jason helped me reinstall the unit, which required shimmying into one of the cargo spaces (I shimmied, Jason could stand up). If all goes according to my typical results, I will be replacing this unit with the new pump, in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain, in the next month or so!

I got back to my housework and painting, and I now know I will NOT be pursuing any career that involves latex and oils (boy, could THAT be interpreted a couple of different ways – talk about your double entendres!). I have scraped, stripped (quit thinking like that!), sanded, primed twice, painted two coats, and am actually pretty proud of the way the side of the garage turned out. I even had to replace a piece of fascia with compound cuts on each side, and it only took me 3 hours for a 30 minute project. Some things to notice in the photo: Admire the brush holding technique (which is altogether different than the proper way to hold a bowling ball), check out the perfectly straight lines (I’m practicing for Atlanta), and notice the crates that each carry “up to $500 fine for stealing” … I could be in the hole $2,000 after this job. Seriously, it really is a good sense of pride after finishing a project and getting the desired results. The only thing that feels better is being able to manipulate your friends into doing the work for you, but none of mine were available on short notice.

It felt great to get back out in the surf, even if Rich and I were battling some fairly small and inconsistent waves on Wednesday. Even better, my phone rang on Saturday and Rich had news that the ocean looked much better, and I caught perhaps the nicest drop that I’ve had in the last 10-15 years, making for an awesome day in the water.

Jason is developing so much each week that it just amazes us. I know how annoying it is the way some people rave about their kids, and I know he’s fairly typical for his age, but it’s just wild how much “stuff” kids pick up on. For instance, he’s barely two and yet has already firmly grasped the concept of looking foolish by pulling female underwear over hi’s head.

Hell, he’s so damn good at it he just skipped right past “beginner” and “novice”, zooming straight up to “elite status” by getting (count ‘em) four pair on at once. I can’t tell you how proud I am of my boy! (Are you still shaking your head?). He also likes to line up his toys on occasion, so he went to work in the living room displaying the abundance of toys he has acquired over his short 25 months of existence. Fire trucks go with fire trucks, tow trucks have their own section, and the NASCARs stay together.

Wait a minute … who the heck snuck stock cars into my house? Was it one of the patients from the military hospital? The guy who tried to steal my identity last month? Force? I’ll be honest, the underwear thing was kind of cool, but I may just have to draw the line with choices of racing cars in my house.

Happy Easter, and stay tuned!

PS- On a sad note, we recently lost a great man and a wonderful photographer, Bob Hesser. Fortunately, I did get to know Bob and spend some time with him on occasion, and I hope his family will find some solace in the memories that he left and the positive impressions he made on so many of us. I can’t say how sorry I am and what a loss it is to all of us. I know that Bob died of pneumonia, but I don’t have any other details. I also know that he was far too young to leave this place and his four children, and I hope there is something we all can do to help his family.
 

It’s Monday, I’m back from Houston, and we leave tomorrow for Vegas in the motorhome. We just finished dinner, and Jenna and I did our usual “tag team” clean up of Jason. Just when we think he’s really getting the hang of feeding himself, we discover more food on his bib and chair than went into his mouth. I may patent that idea for a new diet: “eat some, drop some, and slim down.”

We were counting on leaving tonight for Vegas, and I thought tomorrow would be one of those “dream days” in my life. For the better part of 18 months, my friend and Air Force liaison when I visit Nellis AFB and the military hospital, Pam Robinson, has been working on putting me up in a jet fighter. The Thunderbirds had given me a “90 percent confirmation” to go up tomorrow, but that didn’t happen… yet. Seems the paperwork still hasn’t been on the complete extensive tour and the necessary signatures haven’t all been collected, so I’m currently on hold. The frustration has been the amount of planning and time spent to make this happen for tomorrow. Judy Stropus, our PR expert, has spent hours coordinating local media, ESPN, and multiple other media outlets. Rodger and Karen Comstock sent the MTS show car, with driver, in from out of state to be a part of this, and Pam and I have traded more e-mails than I can count. What is it that they say about “the best laid plans of mice and men?” (“often go awry”). That’s from the poem by Robert Burns, which also inspired the title of Steinbeck’s famous, though controversial 1937 novel. (Crazy how smart a simple Google search can make you seem!)

I think that the F-16 ride should happen sometime in the next few months, but the upside is that we actually can spend a day at home before heading to the next race. And believe me, I cannot wait to get back into that car!

If you didn’t get to see the Houston race, it ended up being a very eventful weekend, from Schumacher’s return to the winner’s circle, to Ron Krisher getting back into championship contention, to Craig Treble showing how an independent can still shake up the troops, to Ashley Force whipping up on some youthful-looking, charming, modest chap in the Funny Car final.

My weekend started with another participation in the Army YES program on Friday morning. What I enjoyed most about it was finally getting to meet Reggie Showers, who, along with Steve Johnson, were speaking in the tent adjacent to the one where Tony Schumacher and I were. For those who don’t know, Reggie raced Pro Stock Motorcycles for several years. He also is an incredible public speaker, with a motivational story like no other and a delivery quality as good as any I have ever heard. Reggie lost both his legs when he was 14 due to an electrocution accident and has never let that hold him back from his dreams. Just getting the pleasure of meeting him (we did hug, so now I’ve got him on the list with Force and Garlits) made my entire weekend.

My father and Teri were out for all three days of the race, and I got to spend lots of time with them each evening. My dad had a pretty nasty street bike accident last year, and his recovery was much slower than he let us all believe. It’s nice to see him moving around like normal again, though I doubt he’ll be enrolling in any Pilates classes in the near future. By the way, what the hell is “Pilates?” (Hey, one quick click on Wikipedia informs me that it is a combination of aerobics and yoga postures invented in the early 1900s by Joseph Pilates. This computer deal is making a genius out of me).

Qualifying was limited to three sessions due to rain late Friday, and the weather changes throughout the weekend made it very difficult for the crew chiefs. Add to that the recent surface grinding done, which resulted in a very course surface (which, combined with the recent heavy rains in the area made for a lack of uniformity in the rubber on the track), and things got interesting. The final qualifying session in Funny Car was exactly the way things should be: exciting, lots of shuffling and bumping, and nail-biting for the teams. Though only 17 cars showed, I think we put on a great show for the fans.

Run one we smoked, I pedaled, and then quit (you DO NOT want to hurt the car on the first run), netting a 5.55. Still, that placed us eighth… a very tricky track. Run number two, on Saturday, gave us a decent 4.18, and we again were a top-half car. By the time that we pulled up for our last run, the No. 12 car had been bumped out of the show, and we were down in the bottom half. A nice 4.108 put us fifth, our highest qualifying position of the year. Normally that’s a great place to be, but our reward was getting to face Robert Hight in the first round, a fate most don’t want.

Saturday also happened to be Big Jim Dunn’s birthday, number 75 to be exact. Jim has driven fuel altereds, front engine Top Fuelers, front AND REAR engine Funny Cars, and has been a star owner and wrench for years. He is just fantastic to talk to, and I’d love to spend about a month interviewing him on what he has seen and done in this sport. Little known fact: I actually interviewed to drive for Jim several years ago, which was totally cool. Many of us put birthday stickers on our cars in honor of Jim, and his son Jon took this photo of us in the staging lanes. Had Jon been as good a photographer as he is a mechanic, you’d be able to see the sticker. Nice going, Jon!

Most of the Pro drivers hit the road after qualifying ends on Saturday, as Sunday is an early day for most of us. I, however, can’t get my fix of racing. I hung out near the starting line with one of my longtime racing buds, Greg Boutte (who now works for K&N), and watched the Super Comp first round. I had several friends in competition, but I really just hung out and enjoyed the ambiance and horsepower. Sportsman racing is just so different from the Pro side of things, and I don’t mean any disrespect at all. These men and women typically work 50 hours a week, take no vacation at all so they can use the time to go racing, and often race in front of empty grandstands just for the thrill of racing a national event. Stick around in the stands next time you’re at a race and enjoy the nuances of the various classes… I bet you’ll find you really get into certain ones. Check out the lack of audience in this photo that I took from behind the starting line. Another interesting tidbit is about the track workers. Keep in mind that these men and women show up EARLY in the morning, each day of the event (and most of them are there days in advance to help with track prep, registration, tech, and other necessary jobs), and work late into the evening until all cars have run and all work is complete. So, here’s to all of you for keeping racing alive and well!

A typical Sunday for me involves showing up at the track somewhere between 8:30 and 9 a.m. By then the crew has set up everything and is hard at work on the car. We warm up about 9:30, and then I head over to the DSR hospitality area for the driver’s intros. The unique thing about driving for DSR is the access that people can gain by purchasing hospitality tickets. Each of the drivers is introduced and gets a chance to address the audience and speak for a couple of minutes. Once done with the greetings, if I haven’t already got all of my safety equipment ready, I will go do it. Now I think I know how the gals feel, as I have so much crap in my ensemble that I almost need a checklist to keep from forgetting anything. Before and after these scheduled activities I also spend time at the ropes talking to the fans and signing stuff. Around 10:15 I head up to the starting line for the NHRA driver intros. Nearly all races feature them, and I like the idea. All of the Pro qualifiers are introduced and get to go out on stage and wave to the fans who have arrived early enough to partake. This time I decided to turn the tables and take a picture of the fans, so now you can see what it looks like from the driver’s side.

After driver intros, I’ll go out and look at both lanes, especially at the Tree and the angle that the sun is shining on it. After that, I’ll head back to the trailer, suit up, and go back to the staging lanes by the car. After the National Anthem, I’ll watch a couple of pair of dragsters run before returning to the car. Typically I suit up and get strapped in when we are five pairs from running.

Update: I just gave little man his nightly bath and read him his bedtime book. After that I watched the ESPN coverage of the race. The qualifying show was a bit of a bust, as we AGAIN were pre-empted (though I understand they did replay the entire show the following day… useless if you’ve already programmed your recorder and aren’t at home), this time by women’s beer-chugging, or was it a live frog-jumping competition this time? The race day show was pretty good, though scarce in driver interviews. What was exciting was the dual tire-smoking races, and it was even better in person (and, it was even better when strapped in the car!). The coverage didn’t capture some of the detail, like how badly we blew up our engine in the first round pedaling contest against Hight. It was smoking, popping, sizzling, and stinking by the time I got it stopped and got out. My boots were soaked from the fire bottles, but we did get the win light. Don told me he’d send an invoice for the damages, so I’m changing my address. Hell, maybe that imposter from the last blog can pick up the tab!

Our day didn’t get any easier after round one. Tim Wilkerson (who was 2-0 against us this year) was our second-round race, and it was a real squeaker. This time we got there first, but just by .005. Semi’s, and Tony Pedregon was driving away from me until he slowly faded back, and we’re back in the final for the first time since Richmond last year. We had lane choice against Ashley, and we felt very good about our chances … Until after backing up from the burnout.

After the body was lifted, it was obvious something was wrong. Raw fuel was spewing out of the #6 cylinder, and leaning the fuel pumps didn’t help. When I watched the look of disgust on Johnny’s face I knew we needed a small miracle. My only hope was to turn off the top bulb (deep stage), and hope that Ashley would red-light. I fully expected there to be fuel dripping in front of the right slick, and I just knew the car was going to spin 10 feet into the run. I went in deep, made sure I was green (there wasn’t any point in trying to hammer the Tree and throwing it away on a red-light), and nailed it, fully prepared to lift immediately to keep from throwing the rods out and lifting the blower (I don’t need two invoices from Don). I was amazed that the car actually hooked (we later traced the problem to one of the spark plugs in #6, which had broken the porcelain. Surprisingly, though it failed to help ignite the fuel at idle, it actually fired throughout the majority of the run) and made it down the track, but I felt pretty helpless watching Ashley drive away from me. I have to give her and their team much credit for making an outstanding run and keeping their cool in the less desired lane.

So there it is. I can’t wait to get to Vegas, hop back into that Valvoline/Mail Terminal Services Charger, and go make eight solid laps and collect our trophy. Then I’m going to send Don an invoice and flowers. Drop me a line if you know his favorite type. On second thought, that’s just plain scary.

Stay tuned.

Okay, glad we got that out of the way. Gainesville…not the way it was supposed to happen, but there actually were some highlights. After a tune-up change following the test session data from our team Funny Cars of NAPA and Shelor.com, we struggled with the different power curve through the first three qualifying runs. When we rolled up to the lanes for our final attempt, we were sitting 15th (only 17 cars showed up), and that was on a run where I pedaled to a not-so-spectacular 4.52 (I’m still having to adjust to the 1,000 foot numbers, as a 4.52 still sounds really stout to me). Hight was on the bump, Head was not in, and both ran in front of us. Johnny and I talked about the fact that if one of them didn’t go around us (thereby guaranteeing we’d be in the show) there wasn’t much point in taking a chance on pedaling again. We had already hurt our best body on the second attempt when the blower backfired on what would have been a 4.21 or 4.22. The blast buckled most of the tinwork around the dash, so we bolted our back-up body (which is 14 pounds heavier) on to finish the weekend. Anyway, Hight ran well enough to move clear into the top half, so we now were on the bump with only Jim Head to watch. As the next car in the water box, I strained to see his run through the plethora of crewmen standing on the starting line in front of me. After he made it to 400 feet without smoking the tires, it was pretty obvious that we were now on the outside, with one shot left. Add to that the fact that track guru Lanny Miglizzi had just informed us on the radio that a massive cleanup just before the Funny Car session had left our lane in questionable shape about 175 feet out. Head’s car had drifted towards the centerline, actually avoiding that area, but that’s not something that you would want to do intentionally, as it could cause more problems with traction. So, I’m thinking that I have to be ready to pedal if anything goes wrong, but I’m staring at the scoreboards and seeing the bump at 4.35, which is easily doable…I hope. Pedaling typically costs 1 to 2 tenths of a second, and this may be really close. Fortunately, John and Johnny (and, if you factor in that my legal name is John, well, there’s lots of John’s in our camp. By the way, Mr. Thief, wonder if you knew that little bit of personal data about me!) had a stout pass in the car, and we made it comfortably.

This photo was taken at Indy in 2003, so you'll have to use age progression to figure out what Big and Fast look like today. Still, how cool is a picture with Don Garlits?

The downside is that we ended up ninth, with a first-round date against Tim Wilkerson. I really like Tim, just not in the other lane. He and I spent quite a bit of time hanging out on Friday at the lab. No, we weren’t there to try to cure him of his recent Ford fetish, nor to use therapy to eliminate my rage from some a-hole pretending to be me at the air…there I go again. We were amongst the many randomly selected to have drug tests at Gainesville. No, we didn’t go into the bathroom together, either, nor did we study together and help each other with the answers. I did manage to slip some paprika sauce and Bud Light into his urine container before he went in, but it didn’t work. He not only beat us by .001 in the first round, but apparently he passed his test and wasn’t disqualified!

Losing first round is always a major bummer, but, like I said earlier, there were some good parts about my trip to the Gators: I got to eat dinner over at Ronnie Swearingen’s house (don’t call him pretending to be me and ask for money — he won’t send any!). Ronnie’s accomplishments in nitro racing will certainly get him into the Hall of Fame one day, and we met when he was working at the Hawley School in Pomona. Ronnie has actually worked for Frank half a dozen times and runs the alcohol class in Florida right now. He has crewed on more nitro cars than Ted Kennedy has DUIs. Friday morning I took part in the Army YES program, which always is huge in Gainesville, and another plus was getting to hang out with Steve Johnson and Tony Schumacher. I also met several cadets who were there in uniform, and I shared some life lessons with them (namely, don’t call my shop pretending to be me!). I did a segment for Full Throttle TV (which can be accessed on this very NHRA.com Web site) with the lovely and talented (someday I want to be referred to as that) Jessie Combs. FTTV is a great addition to our sport, and I really like the way they are highlighting the drivers and personalities in our sport. I think that’s what we’ve always needed to reach the next level of popularity and broaden our fan base. I interviewed Don Garlits for a future episode. Let that sink in…I (me, Jack Beckman: drag racing fan and recently the target of some jerk trying to steal money) got to speak with BIG DADDY! Though the interview went very professionally, I had to fight the urge to give him a huge hug and tell him he’s the greatest (I actually do that to Force quite often). I’m a lucky guy. Our team also hosted Bill and Kat (Catherine), who were the winners of a local contest to spend the day Saturday with our team. Actually, I think they won third prize. Second place got dinner with Ronnie Swearingen, and first prize was accompanying Tim Wilkerson to his next breathalyzer/urinalysis. Anyway, Bill already was a big fan of the sport (I wonder if he’s hugged Garlits or Force?), and I think Kat is too after the weekend. They got to ride up in the tow vehicle and see a lot of behind-the-scenes action that is really interesting, and they were nice people, too.

Though our race weekend wasn’t close to what we were looking for, we’re going to win one real soon, so we all have our heads high (not to be confused with having to go in for the drug testing, that’s a different kind of “high”) and will go try to get our trophy in Houston.

I ran into Chip Foose (Hot Rod builder to the stars, and reality TV personality) at the airport in Jacksonville on my way home. I met Chip when he and his good friend Chris Titus (actor/comedian) came through the school many years ago. Chip is such a typical car nut — humble, approachable, and laid back — and he is amazingly talented.

The best part of my entire trip was arriving home and having Jason come “running” down the walkway to greet me. He is growing up so fast and speaking more every day. I love the time I am able to spend with him, watching how he changes, though it’s tough to try and get anything done around the house, as he is pretty “high maintenance,” so one of us always has to be monitoring him.

Speaking of, I’ve been trying to get some home projects taken care of lately (while I have the ambition) and have been mildly successful. I power washed and re-stained the side fence, repainted the gate next to the garage (of course, I turned a one-hour project into three days of fun, after peeling/torching all of the old paint off, spackling the screw holes and cracks, sanding, priming, AND THEN painting, then wishing I’d just spent the hour and done it quick and dirty), and attempted to install a new door for the back kitchen entrance. After three trips to Home Depot, getting the old door completely off and stripped of hardware, having bud Danny bring his tools and expertise over, it became apparent that this 1953 door jamb had seen better days. By the time we would have got this door to fit, we probably would have ruined 2 or 3 of them. I have a pre-hung door now on order, and Dan and I will be doing some serious demolition, tearing out the entire jamb, in about 2 weeks. Jason didn’t care, he got to use some of dad’s tools and hammer on the old door before I had to reassemble and re-hang it.

The entire side of my garage is peeling, and I’m pissed. Not so much that the paint looks horrible, but due to the fact that I paid a guy less than 3 years ago to do the paint…and I paid him well. Being captain of the cheap team at my high school, money and I don’t part ways easily, but I did pay a handsome fee to have old Pablo Picasso give me a substandard job. When the first peeling occurred just over a year after his fleecing, I mean visit, I phoned him, but of course he’s no longer at that number. Go figure! So, I scraped, sanded, stripped (the paint, not my clothes) and got my first sunburn of the year (note to self: tank top means sunblock, Jack), but I am making progress. After Vegas I will need to re-sand all of the wood, pressure wash, prime, and paint. Yep, I should be done just after Vegas…the second Vegas!

There’s a great sense of accomplishment that goes with an honest day’s work (are you listening, Commodore Embezzler?), and I enjoy that satisfaction of getting projects done. I also have been able to get back to working out, though not nearly as regularly as I used to. With my schedule (and older physique), I try to get in three sessions a week, but the racing makes it tougher at times. Jason does his best to help dad lift when I get tired, and I really have to be mindful that I don’t whack him with a weight or let him get his finger in a pulley while I’m lifting. I also try to get down to Redondo and surf with Rich when possible, but that is so dependant on water conditions that I hadn’t been in probably a month. I was able to go Saturday and Tuesday, and it felt wonderful. I was tired as can be out there, especially with trying to get some weight training done in between the beach days, but it was well worth the soreness. Some of the rides I had on Tuesday will definitely tide me over until I get back from Vegas (there won’t be any time between Houston and Vegas, as my schedule gets very hectic).

Today I picked up the motorhome from Andy’s storage, so we can get on the road as soon as I get back from Texas. I’m off to Houston tomorrow, and we still have plenty to get done in the morning before my flight. Our new couch (yeah, that would be the one we ordered and paid for over 16 weeks ago…nice of them to get it delivered when they promised) is getting here Friday, and apparently they won’t move the old furniture. Just so you understand the lunacy of this, let me rephrase: The furniture movers won’t move YOUR furniture. The people who are bringing the nice, new, big couch won’t touch the small one now in the living room. The folks I PAID GOOD MONEY for delivery don’t want to trouble themselves with trivial stuff, like MOVING FURNITURE! So, Jenna and I will move the couch into the garage tomorrow, and she and Jason will have to do without until Friday. You see, Friday is the only day that they deliver in our area, never mind that they are already 2-4 weeks behind our estimated date, let’s just let it sit in the warehouse for a few extra days, as we sure wouldn’t want to go out of our way for a paying customer. Whew, glad I vented on that one. I think it’s just the thought of that $@!*#@! pretending to be me that’s got me wound up. Hey, here’s a thought for you, Major Rip-off: If you really want to be me, how ’bout YOU move the couch, paint the garage, and replace the back door? Then maybe we could get you some money. And next time you figure out my schedule (tough once you read this blog), DO NOT call DSR looking for an advance on my paycheck. Call my dad instead. Better yet, call the President. He’s taking money from all of us to…that’s an entirely different speech. I quit.

Stay tuned.

Some days I think I can’t do anything wrong, and other days it seems as if nothing goes right. I suppose the trick is to have more of the former than the latter, but the reality is that most days have a bit of both in them. My recent trip to Holloman Air Force Base is a good illustration:

Needing to wake up at 4 a.m. to get to LAX to make my flight, I knew the next day was going to be a long one when I finally got to sleep at 1:30. I don’t know about you, but I’m one of those 7-8 hours of sleep per day people. Two-and-a-half just doesn’t cut it. Sleeping on the plane was difficult, as I had a one-hour layover in Phoenix, and each leg of the flight was 90 minutes or less. I did grab a half hour worth of nap, which didn’t do a damn thing to make me feel any better. Once I landed in El Paso, my buddy, Major Anthony Puente, was there to pick me up. He had just flown back from Elmendorf, Alaska, and was pretty tired himself. We drove the 90 miles back to his place and each grabbed an hour of sleep. Again, that was no improvement for my physical state. I was feeling a bit lightheaded and struggling to think clearly, perfect for giving speeches to nearly 400 people! It was quite an honor to be part of the 49th Fighter Wing’s annual awards ceremony, and I really loved being able to share a bit of my life and wisdom with all of the airmen. I just wish I could recall any of what I said … it was all a bit of a blur to me. I was presented with a plaque, or “tail-flash” (a facsimile of their new F-22 Raptor vertical stabilizer) by wing commander Colonel Torres and enlisted boss Chief Master Cline to commemorate my visit, and I got to spend time with and thank many of our soldiers. Sorry about the photo quality, but I haven’t received any of the professional shots yet.

As the next day was Jason’s birthday, I woke up at 5:30 to head back to the El Paso airport. Technically I got up at 4:30 a.m., as my Blackberry automatically updated to Daylight Saving Time during the night and robbed me of an hour. I didn’t realize my error until after I was dressed and ready to go, and trying to get that extra hour nap was fruitless. Did I mention that Anthony and I stayed up until 1:30 a.m. reminiscing about old times? Yeah, I was feeling rather “punchy” by this time. On the way to the airport, I received a call from US Airways with some wonderful news: my outbound flight was going to be delayed, and there was a good chance that I wasn’t going to make my connection in Phoenix. Not to worry, the lady assured me I could get on the next flight and be in to LAX by 3p.m. Wonderful, except Jason’s party begins at noon! She sounded incredibly sympathetic (I’m being very sarcastic), so I just had to keep my fingers crossed that we made it into Arizona with enough time. I still don’t understand why we sat in Texas for 20 minutes AFTER everyone was on board, but it did give me good material for this blog.

Having already been informed that my connecting flight was leaving from the same terminal that we were heading to, at least I wouldn’t have to run very far once we deplaned. That is, until we were routed to a different gate. Have you ever tried to run through the airport when you’re too tired to even walk? Well, it sucks. 80-year-old ladies were passing me, and I so wanted to hop on those “golf carts” that shuttle the old folks and handicapped people around. After being whacked by some old dude’s cane and nearly pulling the oxygen mask off an old gal, I went back to my jogging pace. The good news is that I made it with several minutes to spare, and airport security couldn’t match the bruise on my forehead to the old guy’s walker, so I was well on my way home! I was so beside myself about the potential of not being there for Jason’s birthday, and now I could relax. I had cleverly planned my egress path from LAX, including parking directly across from the terminal door in short term parking. Short term parking is clearly the business to get into. Short term parking is Latin for “first born child” (as in, “this will cost you your first born child”). Short term parking should be against the law. I thought it ironic that the amount of money I had to spend for the convenience of parking my truck was probably more than the truck was worth. It was tempting to just leave it and walk, but I had a party to attend. Kind of reminded me of that credit card commercial, “airfare: $287.90, parking: $57.00, not being late to your son’s second birthday party: PRICELESS!

{GALLERY_birthday}Jenna and Cindy did a great job organizing the party. Jason had one each Great-Grandma, Grandma, and Grandpa in attendance, as well as several other friends and relatives to spoil him. He got to play with his cousin Jack, and even stole some of his cake and ice cream. We now have even more “stuff” to try to squeeze into the house … nice.

I’ve been counting down the days until I can get back into the Valvoline/Mail Terminal Services Charger, and Thursday I hop back on a plane to head to Gainesville. We haven’t been sitting idle (no pun intended) in the meantime, though all three of us are currently feeling the effects of whatever is going around. Poor Jenna has a red nose and sounds like Barry White. Jason cries a lot and has been crapping his pants every day. Come to think of it, that’s normal (for Jason, not Jenna). I’ve been a little lightheaded (yeah, probably normal for me, too).

We headed back out to look at more houses in the Norco area. For those of you not familiar with that region, it’s just south of where Sir Edmund Hillary learned to climb mountains, slightly east of the spot where the Peary-Cook controversy all began (Okay, that’s a reach. The Hillary one you ought to be able to figure out. Robert Peary has been given the “classical” credit for being the first to the North Pole, though there is substantial evidence that his former partner, Frederick Cook, actually beat him there by nearly a year. And if this epiphany causes you loss of sleep, Roald Amundsen was the dude that found the South Pole, though I didn’t know that anyone had lost it). I’m being funny, but Norco is quite a clip from the San Fernando Valley, about 80 miles. It’s actually NORth COrona, quite clever of its founders. I wonder if “J. Lo.” lives there. Wow, another witty joke! We really want RV access, and a bigger place. And we really don’t want to spend $600,000 in the L.A. area, hence our voyage east. We have seen some pretty enticing places, but the property taxes concern me. I currently pay about 1.25 percent all told, and because I’ve lived in this house for more than 16 years (and taxes are based on purchase price plus a minimal yearly increase), we pay right at $3,000 each year. Some of these newer homes, with a clever side-step of California’s Prop 13 from 1978 charge a “legal” fee known as Mello-Roos. In 1982, Henry Mello and Mike Roos (a State Senator and an Assemblyman) should have picked something better to carry their names into immortality, which is spelled very much like immorality … but I digress. “Community Facilities Districts” (or CFDs) is the way the state gets into your pocketbook year after year, and you get to grin and bear it. Anyway, some of these homes now carry yearly taxes of $8,000-plus, and that’s after they have depreciated about 50 percent! Yeah, some of these folks had to pay 12-15,000 a year just in property taxes when their homes were at peak value! And these aren’t necessarily “rich folks,” witnessed by the amount of bank-owned houses in the area currently. I’m just curious what California did with the revenue that was streaming in the past 5 years, when property tax proceeds were huge, gas tax revenues nearly tripled in many counties, and sales tax is amongst the highest in the nation. I sure wish I could spend every dime I ever earn, and then plead “broke” and ask everyone for more money when times aren’t perfect! Hold on, Jenna is helping me off of my soapbox. Okay, enough politics.

The bad news is that Jason thinks that his toilet insert is a party hat. The good news is he hasn't used his little commode the correct way, yet. That would be tough on the hairdo, and the carpet

Remember how I led the blog off with good/bad days, and how most are a bit of each? Here’s another good example: I decided to take the motorcycle out for an errand yesterday, but I noticed that the clutch lever was “mushy,” and I knew exactly how to fix it with my mechanical mastery. Heck, I even glanced at my watch (2:10 p.m.) and thought to myself, “20 minutes, tops.” I removed the side cover (well, I actually couldn’t get it all the way off unless I removed one exhaust pipe, and I had to take one foot peg loose just to pull the cover out of the way of the bleeder), leveled the bike with a 2x6 under the kickstand so the reservoir for the hydraulic clutch was level (the center stand was removed from this bike when the aftermarket exhaust was added … more on that later), and got busy. I bled the clutch system and was well on my way to getting the bike back together when disaster struck. I wouldn’t recommend pushing on the side of the bike when it’s not on the center stand, as tipping over becomes a sudden reality! That’s the bad news. The good news is that the Nissan was able to catch the bike without any damage … to the bike. Now there is only one undamaged body part left on the pickup, but it could have been worse. I’m telling you, all that working out really paid off this time. Wrestling that bike back up was really a treat, especially with all of that nasty brake fluid all over everything. Oh, I forgot to mention that I hadn’t capped off the reservoir (that’s French for “tank,” and that’s about how heavy it felt … as in Abrams M1A1 Tank). So, besides adding a couple of extra dents to the trusty Nissan, the brilliant fire engine red paint is a bit worse for wear. After the cleanup, the watch now read 3 …15!

Last blog I was talking about how awesome Tom Bayer’s season has been so far, and he currently is leading the Super Comp National standings. However, Rich Camou (the guy I teach surfing to each time we paddle out) is sizzling right now, too. He just locked up the Jegs Allstars slot for Division 7 in just his second full year! He currently leads the division and is 5th in the nation … great job!

Okay, I gotta go. American Idol is coming on, and I’m not allowed to miss it. Truth be told, I actually do enjoy that show, though the same can’t be said for me about nearly all reality television. Jenna and Cindy love Dancing with the Stars, and I don’t. Occasionally I just can’t escape the room when it’s on, so I got stuck watching part of the first episode this season. Seems that one of the contestants is a country singer, and his partner/instructor is his girlfriend. Dude, what the HELL are you thinking? I know that any guy reading this agrees with me, that relationship is a goner … who wants the “over/under” on when he gets kicked off the show AND booted out of the relationship? I’ll guaran-damn-tee Jenna and I won’t be entering any dance competitions in the near future.

All right, that’s it from North Hills for now (or shall we say, “NorHi”?). Be good, and “aufenthalt stimmte” (that would be German for, “stay tuned”).

And just who was it that made up all of these words in the English language? If I’m a Procrastinator, does that make Dan Fletcher a Sportsmancrastinator when he puts things off? And just when I thought I was getting a handle on how to use prefixes, along came the exceptions. Take for instance the prefix that means “not,” or “opposite of” (there I go with the quotationitis again — yeah, I made that one up, too). If one is not moral, they are immoral, but something that isn’t balanced is asymmetrical. If someone lost their marbles (I’m being euphemistic), they’re insane, but when someone just isn’t nice, we’d call them uncool. All of this seems counter-intuitive, irrational, nonsensical, and disjointed. I don’t even want to get started on con- and il-, so I’ll just drop it.

I’ll give you a synopsis of Phoenix. We took the motorhome out and arrived early to do some appearances. The first was at the Gila River Casino across from the track. Force, Capps, Matt Hagen, Spencer Massey, and I all signed for the fans. I then headed back over to the track, picked up Rodger and Karen Comstock, and went over to the MTS terminal for a visit. This marked the first time that the MTS show car was displayed, and the employees and customers really seemed to like it. We also presented the terminal with a copy of the Wally that we won last year. Each time we win a national event, we present the local terminal with a trophy, and we’d sure like to do a whole lot more of that this year! (Note: I remember reading recently that a Wally weighs 12 pounds. Since Jason was crying to hold one of the trophies today, I decided to check for myself. A divisional Wally is 4.6 to 5.4 pounds, and the Nationals are 9.2 to 9.7 pounds. No, I didn’t weigh every single one, but it puzzled me that they range that much. Perhaps I’m not feeding mine enough).

Speaking of trophies, I was presented with a special plaque by Jim and Pam Eshelman, former students of mine at the Hawley School. They commemorated my second round starting line prowess at Pomona with a memento that I won’t forget. The writing on the bottom reads, “Not an option tour ’09”. You just can’t buy friends like that!

My Air Force friend Peter Dahlberg, my building engineer buddy Steve Morgeson, and my PhD chum Andrew Keech came out to cheer me on as well.

We didn’t go very far on our first qualifying run, but we sure looked good the next three, running a 4.12 and two 4.14s. Though that only put us 11th, we were fast on both runs Saturday and felt good about our chances against Tony Pedregon Sunday. We were the only right lane car first round to win without smoking the tires, and our 4.07 was a pretty stout lap. In the second round, Tim Wilkerson was kind enough to drop a couple of cylinders and move way over towards the wall in his lane, but I could only watch and hope he didn’t hit anything (we like Tim too much) as tire smoke spelled the end of our day.

It’s strange to get the season underway, and then have to take a 2½ week break before Gainesville. I’m really ready to get out there and get our first win of the year. I’ve even been practicing. …

Last Saturday I headed up to Bakersfield and got to make a lap in Lee Paul Jennings’ nostalgia Funny Car. Lee’s wife, Lisa, is putting on the “Funny Car Fever” race in Sacramento April 24-25, and they asked if I would drive their car. The Bakersfield trip was just to get a lap in the car so we’re all acclimated once we get to the race. I have spoken to Lee Jennings Sr. several times when he used to run an A/Fuel dragster, and those guys have the absolute best equipment available. What a nice opportunity to drive a first-class car with a great group of folks! My run was a planned 1000-footer (I suppose that should seem natural to me now). At about 125 feet, the car started to rattle, so I pedaled it. I shifted (I had to remind myself TO shift as the NHRA car’s are high-gear only) near 600 feet and clicked it just past 1,000. I figured it would run about a 6.40 or so. How about a 6.07? Lee Sr. has quite a tune-up in that thing, and we should be tough in Sacramento.

It’s nice having so many friends who race, so someone I know is usually going to the late rounds at every race. Rodger went several rounds in Phoenix, but the hottest Comstock was Karen, lasting until the fourth round Sunday. Right now, she has Jenna’s dragster engine in her Super Gas ’57, and with the help of Dick Vander Meer and Glenn Kern has got it dialed in nicely. She also went three rounds the next weekend, and Rodger ran a stout 7.06 running in Top Dragster. I guess I should mention that Karen’s first two runs were 10.66 and 10.69, but once Dick figured out that Jenna’s engine has a 4-7 camshaft swap (hence a different firing order), and Karen’s distributor was set up for the standard Chevy, we suddenly picked up three-quarters of a second! So, if you want your race car to run much faster, just swap the 4 and 7 plug wires … it worked for us.

In terms of being tough, perhaps the hottest racer in the country right now is my buddy Thomas Bayer. He’s been in the final round every race this year, with two Super Comp wins and a Super Gas runner-up. In fact, his win in Phoenix at the divisional was against my surf partner, Rich Camou. Rich drives one of Tom’s cars, so that was a big deal for both. Congrats to them.

Since there hasn’t been much surf, it’s been a bit boring at home. Sure, I did visit Dr. Chapple, my drummer/dentist to get that chip fixed, but a visit to the dentist doesn’t rank way up on my “fun meter.” Oops, there’s more quotation usage. Jenna and I have looked at lots of homes, but again, not exactly my definition of fun. In fact, I would say it’s afun, infun, counterfun, nonfun, and disfun.

I voted. Yeah, you’re right … not much fun.

I did a couple of interviews and radio spots, and that was pretty cool. I did a conference call with the MTS folks about our Mail from Home program, and that was cool. I got a phone call from THE Jack Jones last week, and that was way cool. But perhaps the coolest thing I did was answer the door Tuesday night. Bob Muravez, aka “Floyd Lippencotte Jr.” came over to chat. Bob won the ’63 Winternats and was always a hitter, as well as being the most well-known shoe of one of the most iconic cars in drag racing, the Freight Train (I just couldn’t bring myself to use the quotation key again, it’s getting worn out). Bob has been a Maytag repairman (I’m not kidding you, or should I say I’m inkidding) forever. He started at 10 with his father, and here he is 61 years later still enjoying his job! He’s been in the homes of some of the most famous people to reside in Southern California and has some great stories. More importantly, though, he is a wonderful person with great insight and advice. I’ve gone over to his and Sharon’s house for a Super Bowl party and had a lot of fun. Sharon was once a Ram’s cheerleader, so yaay Bob!

I still have a tough time grasping all of the legendary folks that I have been able to meet through racing. To me, these are the Mantles, DiMaggios, Gehrigs, and Ruths of our sport, and to hang out and listen to them is just magical to me. I even spent time with Art Chrisman and Gary Beck while up at Bakersfield. Someone pinch me before I chip another tooth! I can’t get enough of this sport, and I am so incredibly lucky to be where I am.

Here's one of Jason playing with snow balls in the pits at Pomona. The snow came from the Cannon's place in nearby Wrightwood. This was about as exciting as it got considering the weather.....truly a Winternationals

Jason will turn 2 on Sunday, so we will have the relatives over to celebrate. We just bought this huge bounce-a-roo at Toys-R-Us (wow, that’s a lot of hyphens in one sentence!) and Jenna really wanted me to set it up in the living room last night so Jason could have some fun. He’s been running a temperature lately, and I hope it’s just from his last molars coming in. So, aside from the fact that it probably isn’t prudent to do strenuous exercise with a fever (after all, you could develop Epstein-Barr, or even a case of un-in-con-a-counter-il-non-dis-association, which sounds serious), I don’t think Jenna has a firm grasp on basic physics. I learned in eighth grade that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time, and Jenna obviously doesn’t know what 12’ x 9’ (the dimensions of Jason’s new toy) looks like. Once I illustrated to her that the available space in our living room is roughly 11 ½’ x 8’, I think she understood. Unfortunately, that just gives her more ammunition to move us into a bigger house, which could prove financially insound, or is that consound? Whatever.

I am flying back home Sunday morning to celebrate the little man’s big day. Saturday I will be in Alamogordo, New Mexico, at Holloman Air Force Base. No, I haven’t re-enlisted; I will be giving a speech at their annual awards banquet and maintenance seminar. The squadron commander, Anthony Puente, was an enlisted man back when we served together. It’s wild how many of my fellow soldiers I have re-established contact with after all of these years. Just last week I spoke with Tammy Howe for the first time in 15 years. She and I actually dated more than 20 years ago, when I was 7 (that’s funny). She is going to try to come to the Dallas race and bring her kids. It’s a neat feeling to locate so many friends from a long time ago.

That’s it for now. And just remember that putting an “a” in front of “hole” doesn’t mean the same thing as “not a whole.” Be careful with your newfound language skills, and stay tuned!

Not that driving Don Schumacher’s Funny Car isn’t about the coolest thing that anyone could ever hope to do, but man do I have to pinch myself several times a month just to make sure this is all real! The folks I meet, the stuff I get to participate in, and the talent that surrounds me sometimes makes my life seem surreal. Of course, try red-lighting in the second round against Robert Hight, and things come crashing back to reality in about, oh … .071 of a second.

The Winternationals was quite an experience, lasting seven days for the Sportsman racers. I only wished it lasted that long for me, as that really was a bummer. I have since gone to the doctor and had my head removed from my … uh … you-know-what, so I’m done shooting myself in the foot this year. The weekend wasn’t a total downer, as there were several upbeat moments:

My bestest little buddy, Dakota Ragsdale, flew out to California with his mother Carrie. Dakota was introduced to DSR a couple of years ago through our outreach program to children with heart problems. The Ragsdales have adopted three high-need children, and I just love Dakota and his brother and sister. After getting wind that Dakota was having some serious health issues (which he probably will face for the rest of his life), DSR’s LuAnn Bishop (who heads hospitality and works part-time as an angel) arranged to have Carrie and Dakota come out. Not only did we get to hang out, I took Dakota up on stage in our hospitality “meet and greet” Sunday morning to introduce him to all of the fans. That little boy thinks everything and everyone on this planet is wonderful, and his outlook never fails to put a smile on all of our faces.

With all of the rain, you would have thought there wasn’t much to do for the crew. However, we unloaded and warmed the car several times when it appeared there would be a break in the weather, only to have to reload it when the rains came. I felt bad for our guys … we warmed up three or four times just to get in one qualifying run! Racing and beating defending champ Cruz Pedregon in the first round was an outstanding way to begin our season, and I sincerely hope we defend our Phoenix title this weekend.

I got to work with two of my buddies, Jason Pidgeon and Matt Ilas of ESPN, on a story that we had been kicking around since early last year. It was 1969 when Jack Jones, a well-known Top Gas racer (back then Top Gas was a very popular class, even more so than Top Alcohol is today), posed adjacent to the Pomona starting line for Les Lovett, the phenomenal late, great photographer for NHRA. Wally Parks wanted a trophy that better symbolized the victories of drag racers, and thus “the Wally” was born. If you saw the TV coverage, then I don’t have to tell you about the piece. It was such a thrill for me to get to do that, standing in the same area where Jones posed 40 years before, holding the FIRST Top Fuel Wally ever awarded: Prudhomme’s ’69 Indy trophy. Back when I was that 7-year-old kid hanging over the guard rail at Orange County International Raceway in 1973 I never could have imagined things turning out like this. How’s that for cool? Speaking of cool (and I wasn’t able to run this photo back when it was taken, as I just received it via e-mail last week), here’s a shot of the very same Jack Jones and me taken at the ’08 Finals, complete with a Goodyear slick for reference! Man, do I get to do some fun things!

I got to spend some time with several of my longtime friends. The Murachanian/DeMattei group was out in force (sorry you had to come back Tuesday for my goof-up). In the pits, I got a photo with a group of good friends, and the rain enabled us to hang out and catch up on lost time.

Because of all of the downtime for rain, ESPN was trolling (bad pun) the pits looking to fill some time. They slapped the headphones on me and I got to talk with Mike Dunn and Paul Page about my meteorological skills and the benefits/detriments of rain tires in drag racing (I AM joking). Don’t I look like I just lost my lunch money and am about to cry in this photo? Maybe I was getting ready to do my Danika Patrick “tizzy fit” routine when that shot was taken? Next time I’m insisting on makeup before I go on camera.

After I was defeated second round, I would go up on the line when my teammates ran. I thought I did a good job of sneaking up there undetected (well, except for the bright yellow “MTS” shirt), but I got caught! Yep, the photographers apparently had a running bet that I didn’t know what the other side of the camera looked like. I used to be hard-core into photography, and sneak up on the line whenever I could. Let’s just say security escorts became a routine part of many of my national event experiences! Anyway, I snapped a few shots of Capps doing his deal in the second round, and I got caught on film. No, Don, I am not supplementing my income moonlighting as a photojournalist, this was just for fun.

Other than that, there was some other “stuff” that kept me busy after the race; I got to hang out with my favorite mayor, I actually fixed something ... make that two somethings (one of which I had broken), I fixed something else that I didn’t break, and I’ve finally made it in drag racing. Allow me to explain:

Friday after the race I spoke at the Mayor’s luncheon for Rancho Cucamonga. Don Kurth was a student at the school, and I am so thankful to have met him. He is not only the mayor, but also a real-life doctor and one of the most inspirational people I have had the privilege of associating with. His story truly should be made into a book one day. The real surprising thing to me about speaking there was the level of attendees. Most of these folks were extremely successful business owners, doctors, and other professionals. How the hell does a drag racer make it onstage at an event like that? Easy, I know the mayor!

Sit down if you aren’t already … this is big news: My motorcycle is running, and I fixed it! The carb parts came in, I reassembled both carburetors (and only had one washer left over), reinstalled them (what a pain), reconnected everything (more pain), started it, and the front cylinder WAS STILL DEAD! Just as I was about to break out the baseball bat .. voila! (That’s French for “my Vulcan is all better now”), the front cylinder came to life. Miracle … maybe. I’m leaning towards a possible needle and seat issue, or simply divine intervention. I hurt my wrist patting myself on the back and giving myself high-fives, but it is running.

Remember the RV washer/dryer combo that we were selling? Well, I busted the handle right off that thing. Long story short, apparently there’s some kind of “latch release” timer that was just way too long for me during a demo for a potential buyer, so … ”Snap”! There went $52, but I totally redeemed myself with a complete fix (less $52).

Karen and Rodger headed out to Speed World in Phoenix to race their cars. Rodger did great, lasting until the semi-finals. Karen threw a rod … not so great. We still have the engine from Jenna’s Super Comp car here in the garage, so Cindy generously offered it to Karen (ah, aren’t the ladies just the sweetest!). I pulled a valve cover off to prime the engine once I changed the oil, and damned if it didn’t have two broken intake adjusters! Listen, I swear I had nothing to do with those … I think. Anyway, that little 20-minute project turned into three hours of bliss in the cold garage. The next day I drove the motor (technically I drove my Nissan, with the motor in the back) down to fellow racer Mike Woodard’s house in Torrance, as he was driving back out in his pickup and could haul it. Otherwise I’d be trying to stuff a 565 in the back of the PT Cruiser … not a great idea.

I’ve made it! I’ve always said that the criteria for “making it” in racing is: multiple Wallys; getting on the cover of National DRAGSTER; and getting mentioned in the final paragraph of Bob Frey’s article in ND. Check, check, and (finally, Bob!) CHECK! Ya-hooo, how neat to read my name (and Jason’s) while kicking back in the motorhome one night at Pomona. Oh, life is good.

Well, that’s about it, unless you want to talk about surfing (went twice: first time was great, second not so good) or helmets. The 2008 Valvoline crew presented me with the most awesome helmet, and I debuted it at Pomona. This photo of me in the seat is the only one that I have of it right now, but I definitely will show the back of it in a future blog. It’s very funny stuff.

Finally, if any of you are confused as to WHICH car I drive, or, more precisely, who sponsors me, let me clear the confusion: Mail Terminal Services will be the primary sponsor for 12 races, and that is the paint scheme we had at Pomona. Valvoline will also take 12 races, and that car will be identical to what we ran last year. Clear? Cool.

We’re out the door on the way to Phoenix … stay tuned (and this weekend we’re bringing a Wally home!).

I think we found out why we were so inconsistent in Phoenix: part of it was the loose blower belt, and part because Brian ran the fuel lines into his stomach instead of the barrel valve!

Florida was cool, and I don’t mean weather-wise. We had a good three-day test, making a total of seven runs and getting a handle on some new clutch stuff (that’s Latin for “the crew won’t tell me what they did”). The new owners of Palm Beach Int'l Raceway really have done a beautiful job with that facility, and I envy the local bracket racers for getting to run there consistently.

I landed in West Palm Thursday night, and got my typical bedtime in at 2 a.m. That sure made waking at 8 o’clock fun, and I really enjoyed the traffic driving out to Weston. Why Weston, you ask? (You DID ask, didn’t you?). I paid a visit to Mail Terminal Services corporate offices to discuss our race program with all of the executives. They were very receptive and excited to hear how many people we connect with through the racing, and especially with the Mail From Home program. I apologized for having to “speak and run,” but I did have a racecar to drive that day, so off I sped up I-95 North to do our testing thing.

This was the first time that the 2009 version of the MTS/Valvoline team had been to the racetrack as a group. Back from last season is the one and only Johnny West, or “JFW”, as many know him (no, his middle name does not begin with an “F”, but many of his words do). Our assistant this year is John Collins, who worked on the Scelzi car last year and is definitely a crew chief for the future. Also back from last year are Chris Kuhlberg (“Warrior”), now in charge of clutch and facial wipes, Joe Chrisman (clutch assistant and bad jokes), Chris Afflerbach (heads, and towing back to the pits at 300 mph), and Mark Stewart, our very own poster boy for WyoTech (also does bottom end and shortblocks). Coming over from the Monster car of Kenny Bernstein are Brian Mac Dermott (the lucky guy who gets to strap me in the car AND work on it) and Phil Austin (right side of engine and beanie model). Rounding out our crew is Troy Allen, son of 1981 Top Fuel Champion Jeb, who paid his dues last year serving food to all of us rude, grimy fuel guys (Troy that is, not Jeb. He refuses to serve us anything).

I also got a chance to visit with two of my best friends, both of whom I met while in the Air Force. Mike Pearson and Greg Byrd were two of the people responsible for making my four years away from home bearable. Mike brought out his two boys, and Greg called that, plus raised him by one little girl, plus wife Emily was able to come out to smell the nitro. Getting to hang out with my buds, away from the hustle and bustle of a national event, was very cool. Mike’s wife Anne, who is a great singer and was in several bands before joining the Mother’s Brigade, wasn’t able to make it. However, I got to see her do a “gig” one night and spend a bit of time hanging out. All in all, a nice trip east.

Rich and I were able to squeeze a surfing session back home, in between my testing, and this one was great. We went south of our usual spot, braving the rocks on the shore and the kelp beds out in the surf (I hate trying to get in/out with all the rocks, but I especially eschew floating around in a bunch of nasty sea weed) and were treated to some very fun waves. I really want to get one more session in before Pomona, but right now the surf is pretty flat.

Since the whole family (all three of us) was taking the RV to Phoenix, it was time to stock it and get that one last “maintenance” item taken care of: the install of the cable box. We just switched from Direct TV to FIOS, so we had to return the cable box in the RV. Then we had to have a new card mailed for the box we own, now under Cindy’s Direct TV contract, so we could install it. (Apparently satellite is the way to go with the RV; otherwise you wind up having to carry hundreds of miles of coaxial cable with you on those long trips). On a hunch, we delayed installing the new box. Sure enough, the card never arrived (I think our UPS man ate it). Soooooo, we took the spare box from the guest room at Cindy’s and shoved it into that “entertainment center” space in the RV (you know, the one that looks like a Radio Shack after a tornado, what with all that electronic crap and wiring stuffed into small, hard-to-access area that necessitates you standing on the passenger seat, holding a flashlight in your mouth, and bending your head sideways to try to see what you’re doing!). Happy times, and now we get to do it all over again with the other unit. (Amazing how NOW they are able to just activate our existing card … sounds like they should have done that in the first place and saved me some headache). Anyway, we did have satellite for the weekend, which keeps Jason happy (which keeps Momma happy … which keeps me happy). (Update: installed the other box, spent 40 minutes on the phone with Direct TV, removed box, installed previously removed box, and enjoyed wasting 90 minutes for nothing.)

Phoenix testing was a different story altogether (seems like that word should have another “L” in it). Thirteen runs, lots of clutch discs, nitro, and sweat (sounds like a good name for a car, though I give Gary Ritter credit for his “Blood, Sweat, and Nitro" car of the ‘70s), and a few decent timeslips. To say that nearly every nitro car struggled would be an understatement. Most runs didn’t even make it to 100 feet, and lots of crew chiefs pulled hair out that weekend. We even stayed Monday and Tuesday to make a few passes, just to make sure we answered most of our tune-up questions before loading up for Pomona. We did run a 4.13 at 302.96, which was low e.t. of Tuesday for any car, so we feel optimistic for the season opener. I wish I could say the same for the local meteorologists (shouldn’t that be someone who studies meteors, and “weatherologist” would be the correct term? Of course, we all know that proctologists don’t look at “proct’s”, and thespians aren’t people from Thespia, so I guess it all works out in the end, or would that be the proct?). Looking out my front door right now it’s impossible to visualize it raining this weekend, as it’s perfect weather right now. Keep your fingers crossed.

I also got to visit with some friends at Phoenix. Steve Morgeson was a building engineer while I was an elevator man, and we became very good friends before I moved on to teaching drag racing, and he moved on to Phoenix. He now owns his own air conditioning business, which makes a lot of sense if you live in Phoenix. Everyone there has an air conditioner. I would say they are as ubiquitous as “proct’s” (if you know what I’m saying). Steve and wife Terry have a beautiful house, complete with a volleyball court in the backyard, which gives him the only beach in Phoenix. Peter Dahlberg served in the Air Force at the same time as me, and he now resides in Phoenix. I last saw him back in 1991 when he was visiting a relative in California. He came out to the track and brought his girlfriend, Lauren. Peter now works for Intel, or so he says. I think he’s with the CIA. Our other dinner guest was Andrew Keech, whom I met through Steve. In addition to having a PhD and owning Advance Protein Systems, Andrew is one well-traveled Kiwi. He too may be with the CIA. Neither is in the proctology field.

While there testing at Firebird, I decided to keep my track-cleaning skills honed by wiping up some 70 weight in the left lane. I believe it was Anne Profitt who caught this rare photo of me performing some manual labor. Funny, the last time I took the Blackbird to Fontana to race someone sent me a picture of me moping the starting line, but I can’t remember where I saved it in the computer, so it never made the blog. By the way, Steve Faria … you owe me for the cleanup! I also spent a considerable amount of time up in the announcer’s booth with my buddies, who were kind enough to let me join in with the color commentary. I enjoy announcing, and perhaps may explore that route after my driving days are through. Jason watched from the fence and cheered his daddy on.

We departed Tuesday after testing and made it home around 1 a.m. In bed by 2:30, up by 10, perfect for me! The day we left for Phoenix the engine for Rodger’s dragster had arrived from MADCAP, so I knew that I had some work to do. I figured that I’d have it running by late Wednesday or early Thursday, but I may have been too optimistic. After I unwrapped the engine and got it up in the air with the chain hoist, I took the oil filter off to see if it was the one used on the dyno, but it appeared to be brand new. I primed it with oil, reinstalled it, and gave it a “bit more torque” with a filter wrench, as once a filter has been installed the gasket can take a slight “set”. I swear to you I didn’t tighten it that much! After I got the engine into the chassis and bolted up to the transmission, getting all of the accessories installed went fairly smoothly. The real problem started when I went to reinstall the shifter cable through the midplate. I always like to double check the little things, and I wanted to get the alignment just right … not! Needing to slide the cable as close to the filter as practicable, while still allowing adequate removal room, I decided to loosen the filter to make sure that Rodger would be able to service it easily. It wouldn’t budge! (The filter that is, not Rodger). Now, this isn’t my first rodeo, and I certainly have had my share of stubborn filters over the years, but none of them were much of a challenge for my MacGyver-like skills. Today I would meet my match. After twisting the entire case of the filter nearly 90 degrees with the filter wrench, I was wondering how I could have overtightened it that much. I didn’t have any Wheaties the night before, and I doubt that my long hair could have increased my strength by THAT much. Okay, time to ratchet (no pun intended) my plan up a notch. After hammering my largest Phillips screwdriver through the casing of the filter, I was sure it would relent and loosen. No dice. How about one Phillips screwdriver AND the oil filter wrench? How about, no! Two Phillips.....not. Two Phillips and the filter wrench......nada. THREE screwdrivers, a pair of gloves, and pushing with all my might with my foot on the slick.......zilch. By this time the case was splitting and I had no choice but to tear all but the threaded portion of the filter off, throwing chunks at a time into the garbage. Once down to just the base, I really got smart and fashioned a tool out of angle stock and three bolts that would insert into the drain holes around the threaded portion of the filter (check it out next time you have a filter). Two broken bolts and one scraped knuckle later, that was in the trash. Now I was desperate. I either needed to cut through the outer rim to relieve the tension (In the filter, that is. I would need more than that for my tension) or grind down to the threads, which was much more dangerous. After drilling several holes (I had to be extremely cautious to not touch the block), abandoning the drill and converting to the Dremel with the small cutoff wheel (I only used two and a half), I still was no closer. I guess I should mention all of the various pry bars, hammers, punches and chisels that also contributed to this fiasco. Time to do some serious metal grinding and, try as I might, I wound up damaging the threads on the adapter. But, four hours into this project, the filter was OFF! After scrounging through the garage, I got lucky and found an adapter that I had stashed years ago. If I wasn’t able to find one, either Jenna’s engine or my El Camino were going to be a donor. I was totally baffled by this “case of the overtorqued filter” until I crawled under the car to examine the carnage and make sure I had cleaned out all of the debris. It was then that it struck me how the bellhousing bolt protruded far enough into the filter area to … well, I think you can figure the rest out! With the Dedenbear transmission case, there are four short and two long bolts. Since I put all hardware into a box and reinstalled it myself, the mystery grew ever larger. It wasn’t until I removed the other “long” bolt from the bellhousing that the mystery began to unravel; seems someone had ground about .100-inch off of only one of the longer bolts … just enough to clear the filter! Why they only did this on one side blows me away. If someone ever had to do a trans swap in the pits they easily could have the same outcome. After installing the “customized” bolt, I still felt that it was too far in to the filter boss area. One trip over to my hardware bin yielded two bolts of the correct length, exactly ¼-inch shorter than the offending fastener. Four hours, countless nasty words and tears, an empty tool box, metal shaving all over the garage, and the fear that I would tear up Rodger’s engine didn’t make for a very productive day.

Things did go smoothly after that, with the exception of installing the diaper (not mine; that went just fine). With an external oil pump and wide pan, this engine was a certain candidate for a custom oil retention device. I tried it forward, backward, and back to forward again, and still wasn’t satisfied. Short of breaking out a needle and thread, I guess that’s as good as it’s going to get. Besides, Rodger and Karen were driving out Friday to pick the car up. It ran, had no leaks, and I had no leftover hardware, so I guess I did okay.

I don’t think we would have made any friends in the neighborhood had anyone wanted to squeeze between the motorhomes of us and the Comstock’s, but we had to get his car loaded. Next house will have to be on a wide street, with a big driveway, and no oil filter wrenches! I think we pissed the UPS driver off, as he was very reluctant to attempt the go-between on the rigs. Seems they aren’t allowed to pull into any driveways to turn around, and he wasn’t willing to back up. Scelzi could have made it with his eyes closed, but we had to coach our guy. That’ll teach them to lose our Direct TV card!

Since I just hadn’t spent enough time at a dragstrip lately, I decided to hang out at Fontana this past weekend and watch Rodger and Karen test. Brad Cannon also was running in the Summit Series (he made it to the semis on Sunday) so I got to be his dial-in-writer. Saturday night I headed up to friend Scotty Keough’s to watch the UFC fight and have a “guy’s night out”.

Once home I had to face the inevitable: Jenna or my hair. Tough call, but my lady won out. I cried like a newborn in the barber’s chair, but it was cheaper than counseling (or therapy for being nagged). I washed the motorhome, PT, and Nissan truck (it still looks the same … guess that was a waste of my time). Rodger thinks I’m cheap for washing my own RV. I think he’s right.

I don’t know if any of you read any of the other driver’s blogs, but yesterday I was reading Hot Rod’s latest entry, just checking up on him and hoping he found a ride. Whichever one of you busted his backyard table should ‘fes up right now, that ain’t cool!

Tomorrow (actually today, as it’s 2 a.m. right now) we head out to Pomona, and the first official runs of 2009 are only a day away. I really am excited as can be to start the season here in Pomona. I can hardly contain the fan in me, as the kickoff always is the most exciting race of the year in so many respects. Jenna took this picture of the hawk (I hope I’m not offending any “birders” by getting the species wrong. I also don’t want to offend the thespians, meteorologists, or proctologists. Especially the proctologists!) in Cindy’s backyard. I’d have to say it’s “Hawks: 1, Pigeons: 0” after this one. I hope to be more like the hawk, less like the pigeon in Pomona.

Photo 7095

Stay tuned!

I’ve stayed busy. I changed the oil and the 37 filters on the motorhome; I replaced the step-closer solenoid (whatever that is) and even adjusted it to function okay. I greased every zerk fitting on that beast, plus I put new front tires on it. Have you ever bought 22 ½-inch tires (the big ones)? I got mine from good friends Kenny and Sarah Kelso (of Tire Pro fame), who were the cheapest around, and it cost $1,290. That’s no typo, that’s nearly 1,300 samolians. Damn good thing I’m not spending money frivolously, like on haircuts (or charm school)!

I spoke at the Rotary Club of Monrovia. I never knew what they did. I just figured they all must drive Mazdas around or something like that (that’s actually pretty funny if you get it). Friend Andy Montgomery (of RV storage fame) asked me to speak about racing and life, and I think it went pretty well. Those Rotarians are pretty good folk, even if they prefer the Wankel engine to 4-cycle Otto power! (Two rotary jokes in one blog; I may be pushing my luck). I really like that they start their meeting with the Pledge of Allegiance. I don’t think that I’ve recited it since the sixth grade, and that was when Carter (Jimmy, not Nell) was in office!

I raced my car at Fontana. Yes, the Blackbird lives! Once I dusted it off, changed the Valvoline 20W50, checked the valves, and aired up the tires, she ran pretty well. I was the ONLY trailer in the parking lot on Friday night, as I wasn’t going to pay the track for the privilege of letting me pit and tech on Friday. It really gripes my you-know-what that some tracks do that to the racers, so my dumb butt was servicing the car, in the trailer, in the parking lot, in the cold, while everyone else was done inside. Second run (we only got two) I went .000 and 7.496 at 180. First run my .023 light lost my lunch bet with Rich Camou (of surfing fame), but my perfect light got me a dollar back. Not good odds; win a buck ... lose lunch.

First round I get paired with Thomas Bayer, but not THAT Thomas Bayer. This is Senior, “Old-School,”,“Paton” … that Tom Bayer. He whipped my ass! Perhaps my five-second reaction time had something to do with it. I never realized using a crossover delay box could be so humbling, but apparently one should NEVER bump their opponent’s dial-in button and add an extra nine seconds worth of delay -- it just doesn’t look good. I think maybe I got some hair in my eyes. The fun part was spending time with the Sportsman racers. Tom Bayer had all four of his cars running (all of his renters are former students of ours), and getting to hang out with Rich, Tim Takeshita, and Steve Young, as well as the Bayer clan, made for a fun weekend. Daddy Bayer, I’ll get even one day!

Do you know the four words that husbands are most afraid of? In my current situation, I’d have to say it would be, “Jenna has been house-hunting” (is that five words? I need a judge's ruling.) Yeah, she wants to move to Rancho Cucamonga (look it up on a map) to be closer to her mother, and for a newer, bigger house. I may never be able to afford a haircut now.

Jenna (of American Express card fame) and I went on a date! Yep, Cousin Jason and Stephanie came over on New Year’s Eve to babysit their favorite little man, and they all had a great time. Jenna and I went to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and really enjoyed it, although it was very emotional. It’s so odd how now that I am a parent I look so differently at things. The previous movie that we saw was Changeling with Angelina Jolie (wonder why I wanted to see that movie?). It’s about a kidnapping in the '20s in San Bernardino, and I wouldn’t recommend you go see it if you have kids. These two movies would have been great as a single guy, but I just look at things through a parent’s eyes now. Maybe the excess hair is making me too sensitive.

We got home in plenty of time to party hard with Stephanie, Jason, and Jason. We watched Dick Clark (I gotta tell you, I understand and have enormous respect for Dick going on TV, but I don’t think he has anything to prove since his stroke, and it’s painful listening to him talk. It may be time to retire, or at least take some time off). The photo of the three of us in front of the TV fortuitously captured Ms. Kelly Pickler (best known for three things: being on American Idol, and the other two are, shall we say, “aftermarket parts,” installed recently by a kind doctor.)

We set off some “poppers” outside once the clock struck 2009, and Jason looked great in his Spiderman slippers (my Jason, not big Jason). I kind of look a bit like Rain Man in one shot, if he had longer hair.

My mother died on January 24, 1994, so this time of year I always get those little “pangs” that you feel from losing someone. When they make a time machine, I am going to take Jason back so his grandmother can hold him, if only once. I would give anything for her to be able to spend time here with her grandson, she so would have wanted to do that.

I went out surfing with Rich. It was a solid day, and lots of fun. Except the a-hole that thought I cut him off. This young man probably has a thing or two to learn about civility, and he nearly got a lesson right there in the Pacific. Rich is a nice guy, but he sometimes has that “switch” go off (don’t tell his mom he cracked his helmet in Vegas), and it probably didn’t help that said youngster made a comment to us about how many buddies he had there that day. Yeah, I want Rich on my side in a brawl, and for a moment it looked like us “older guys” were going to have to paddle in.

I went to work at Pomona ... for the day. I hadn’t sent cars down the track since March of last year, and I was flattered that the AARWBA (American Auto Racing Writers and Broadcasters Association) invited me to come out and coach their members while they raced the ’09 Pontiac G8s. Those cars are quick, and Justin Humphreys (of Pro Stock fame) and I got to pair up, as we were the “hosts.” I got to take Kay Presto (of writing fame) with me, and we dusted Justin big time! I think he had too much wheelspin from that 415-horse motor, or maybe my lane was just a bit better. The winner of the race was Ron Lewis (of photo fame), who then had to get HIS picture taken in the impromptu winner’s circle. Good job, Ron. The other chaps were the runner-up (author Harold Osmer) and quickest reaction time (that certainly wouldn’t have been me in the first round at Fontana). It was a fun day, but that was only half of the event;

That evening the AARWBA (please don’t make me spell it out again) hosted a black-tie dinner and awards presentation. I was asked by Susan Wade (of journalistic fame) if I would lead the Pledge of Allegiance. Heck yeah, I even practiced it two weeks earlier with my piston-less friends (that’s very clever if you’re following closely and know your engines!) My PR lady, Judy Stropus (of road-racing fame), won the very prestigious award for PR excellence, the Jim Chapman award. Judy is so good at what she does, and I was so proud to see her go up and give her acceptance speech. She was also funny as hell, a side I don’t get to see very often due to her unwavering professionalism. Tony Schumacher received the Jerry Titus award, akin to “Driver of the Year,” and my great friend Dave McClelland received the Pioneer award (I never even knew he had a covered wagon; wonder if it was rotary-powered), so it was a great honor to see my friends get such deserved recognition. I felt awkward onstage, so Tony let me hold his trophy. I wonder if Kelly Pickler would be that nice? It also was nice to see some of my friends from the NHRA museum. Barry, Sheri, and Julie even talked to me long enough to get a picture taken. I used to see everyone over there quite often, but since I no longer work around the corner it’s very tough to stay in touch.

We had dinner with Jessica and Paul Mitsos (yep, Pro Stock fame, baby!), and Jenna showed some true raw talent on the drums. Not real drums, but the Wii kind for the Rockstar game. She wasn’t too shabby, but she’ll have to grow her hair out if she really wants to look the part. Like me.

We had dinner with Eric and Terri Maass (of Super Comp fame) and just got to hang out and chat about everything … and nothing.

We went and hung out at National DRAGSTER (of drag racing fame). They filmed us for the membership segments that will show on the big screen at the races. I refused a haircut, so no “hippie” jokes when you see the ad. Jason looked so cute, I hope they will use his footage. Kelly Pickler will not be in any of these spots.

That’s about all that’s been happening, unless you count my physical as exciting. Dr. Spencer and I now know each other in a much more intimate way, and I shall send him flowers and call him by his first name from now on.

And we now are the proud owners of FIOS (no idea what it means.....Fiber Optic Something). While under the house installing the cable, tech Randy informed us that we had a nice water leak in the sprinkler feed line. Yeah, the one done by the company that hosed us on the landscaping. Cool. Why, I’d be willing to bet that with one phone call (on our new, faster connection) and a mere $245, we can get that fixed.

Don’t bet on that haircut anytime soon.

I really am looking forward to testing, and especially getting back into that Mail Terminal Services/Valvoline car. I can’t tell you how exciting it is that the Winternationals is just around the corner. I would have to think I attended Pomona for the first time around 1975 or 1976. My first distinct memory would be my dad waking my brother and I at about 4 a.m. so we could go deliver our newspaper routes and then head out to Parker Ave. The drive seemed like it took forever, and it’s ironic that it later became my daily commute. I just remember that when we saw the Wynn’s sign on the side of their building adjacent to the freeway that we were getting pretty close. In later years, when I started driving myself to the races, I would always stop and buy extra rolls of 35mm film, because I knew there would be all kinds of new paint jobs and cars rolling out for the first race of the season. My first national event win, ever, took place there in 1998, in a borrowed race car. My first national event win in my own car, the Blackbird, came at the Winters in 2003. That race helped propel me towards the world championship that year. Indy may be the “Big Go,” but being born and raised on the West Coast, the Winternationals was always the biggest race to me, and you can go witness cars run down the same track that has hosted this race since 1961. Though the economy seems to be in a very dubious position for the foreseeable future, I couldn’t imagine skipping this race, whether I was actually competing or just spectating. Pomona is the place!

Stay tuned.