[DeTomaso] Pandora's Perils part VII: A great day, and the beginning of the long journey home

[Christopher Kimball]

When preparing for a six-hour drive, getting the proper rest the night before is a very wise thing to do.  A rather unwise thing to do is staying up until 12:30 A.M. singing Karaoke with a bunch of new friends you met at a POCA Fun Rally.

But allow me to begin at the beginning...

Last night (actually, Friday night; it's already Sunday, now) there were messages posted where Pantera owners were likely to be roaming, indicating there was to be a group picture the next morning.  The signs showed a meeting time of 8:00 A.M. and a photo shoot time of 8:15.  I had stayed up pretty late Friday night (writing the prior email blog, as a matter-of-fact) so I wasn't too crazy about getting up at 7:00 Saturday morning, but since all car-people would basically walk across hot coals to get their cars in a photo, and since I consider myself a car-guy, I made the enormous sacrifice to request a wake-up call for a time far earlier than I would on any normal Saturday.

The call came, I woke up, and in a somewhat stupefied state got ready for the day.  I arrived at the parking corral (as opposed to the "Golden Corral") at about 3 minutes after 8:00, only to see a group of Panteras departing from the lot--er, corral.  There was, apparently, some confusion about times.  I didn't realize that the picture wasn't going to be taken in the local corral, but rather, at the Rawhide restaurant which was somewhat near the hotel.  Thinking I could easily catch up to the group and not cause my early wake-up time to be in vain, I jumped in Pandora, started her up and careened through the access roads to the main intersection.  I arrived at the stop sign, looked around, but found no evidence of anyone.  Then it hit me--of course I could catch up to a group of people driving normal cars, but I was trying to catch up to a group of people driving other Panteras.  My speed advantage wasn't a speed advantage at all!

Somewhat nonplussed, I began to retreat to the corral (which really is just a parking lot.  What is it with Arizona and corrals?)  But before doing that I went to the nearby gas station to fill up.  While there, another lost Pantera owner pulled up beside me and asked where the photo shoot was supposed to be taking place.  I told him I didn't have the address with me and wasn't sure.  He said he was just going to go back to the hotel, and I decided that sounded like a good plan, too.  Just as he drove off, my cell phone rang.  It was Clarke, wondering where I was.  I had just spoken to him and assumed he was still back at the corral (that would be the parking corral as opposed to the "Golden Corral or even the Rawhide Corral.  I'm assuming, of course, that the Rawhide restaurant actually has its own corral).  I told him I was very close to where he was (I was wrong, of course), to which he replied he wanted me to get a specific part of my anatomy to where he was right away.  I jumped in the car and raced back to the hotel.  In my hurry, I accidentally drove along the wrong side of one of the divided access roads leading to the hotel.  Two things alerted me to this problem.  The first was the arrows painted on the road surface that were pointing the wrong way.  Well, actually, they were right...  The other thing that helped me deduce I might be in the wrong place at the wrong time were the other cars driving toward me.  Fortunately, it was two lanes wide, and they were driving in the lane to my left, and I was to their right, so it really worked out as if it were a normal, two-lane road.  At the next intersection I quickly swerved to my right, onto the correct side of the road.  Since most of the cars that were going to the photo shoot had already left, there was very little traffic, about which I was very glad.  The last thing I needed was for someone to see what a dork I'd been.  A few minutes later I saw Mike Drew, who said to me, "What the heck were you doing out there driving on the wrong side of the road?" or words to that effect.  My wise English mother has (another) saying, "Your sins will find you out."  That's for sure.

So now I had about 40 minutes to kill before the President's breakfast began, and I wasn't sure what I should do.  On the one hand, I could quickly return to my room and take a nap, but on the other hand, by the time I got back to the room, took all my clothes off, got in bed, called the front desk for a wake-up call in 30 minutes, got to sleep, got the wake-up-call and woke up again, got dressed again and went downstairs to the meeting room, a lot of energy would be spent for only a little more sleep.  I didn't have to think about it for long to realize:  Of course I'd try for the nap.  I got to my room only to find the once-lackadaisical maid was now johnny-on-the-spot, and was just entering my room to clean it.  Funny how one call to a hotel manager changes everything!  And speaking of changes, later when I returned to my room, all the linens had been changed (yes, even the pillow cases) and all the crumbs from the muffin I ate the night before were vacuumed.  In case the maid had gotten in trouble for messing up the linen situation the day before and might do something nasty to one of my remaining candy bars, before I left the room, I took a preemptive measure--I left $5 on the bed with a note that said, "Thank You!"  I'll bet if Mr. Daddy had given Celie $5.00 in that particular scene in "The Color Purple" she wouldn't have spit into his water.

Anyway, I was forced to go back downstairs and wait for the meeting to start, which it did, after 38 long minutes which could have been used for some perfectly good sleep.

Our new POCA president, Les Gray, ran the President's meeting really well.  He seems like a great guy, and very dedicated to POCA.  He clearly takes his position seriously, and was interested in what each person at the meeting had to say.  Because the POCA President's meetings are top-secret, I cannot reveal anything that happened in that meeting, other than it turns out I am not the only person who likes ketchup on his scrambled eggs.  

Following the meeting I had just enough time to get to the parking corral to prepare for the 12:00 PM departure time for the big car show.  Except it turned out that the departure time was really 12:30.  Except then it was revealed that we were supposed to be at the show location at 12:30, so it would be better to depart at 12:00, but then those who thought we were supposed to leave at 12:30 might be confused, but then, weren't we already confused?  We ended up leaving a little before 12:30.

The drive was only about 20 minutes, and Mike Thomas was riding along again (I think he's developing quite an affection for Pandora.  I'd better keep him away from her, or his beautiful Yellow Pantera might get jealous, and the last thing we want is a cat fight!)  About ten minutes into the trip I thought a little music might be nice.  Despite that I told Mike I was going to turn on the stereo, he didn't seem to be quite prepared for the warm, subtle nuances of the 12", dual-voice-coil, 1200-watt-powered Pyle Driver subwoofer which was located directly behind him.  This became obvious soon enough, for when the music began to softly waft through the cabin, he about jumped out the window.  It turns out he doesn't really like low frequencies very much.

When we arrived at the McDonald's parking lot, I realized it was part of an entire shopping mall complex, and there was space for many, many vehicles.  I also realized that in Arizona, they must have some sort of special heat-resistant building material.  That was the only possible explanation as to how the McDonald's was still standing in the 5000-degree heat.  I mean,  it was HOT!  REALLY HOT!  I was drenched in sweat in about two minutes.  The saving grace was that I managed to park about 15 feet from the McDonalds building instead of way out in the arid hinterlands of the parking lot (surprisingly, it was just a "lot," not a "corral").  This meant I could stand in the shade of the McDonald's' roof overhang and still be very close to my car. A few minutes later I figured out I could actually stand IN the McDonald's and be very close to my car, which was even better since the McDonald's had a fully-functioning air conditioner.

Actually, after I had consumed a Cherry-Berry frozen blast (or whatever it was called; by the time I ordered it my vision was blurry from the heat), a frozen, Caramel Mocha, and another one of those Cherry-Berry things, my body temperature had decreased all the way down to only twice what it's supposed to be, so standing outside in the shade wasn't too bad.  Not only that, after a couple of hours I could make brief reconnaissance missions to check out the other cars.  There was a huge amount of cars.  The Panteras clearly dominated the other marques, but altogether there must have been close to 300 cars.  The cars didn't necessarily stay for the entire event, either.  Many came and went so that it was possible to see a great many more cars than there were parking spots.  I stayed until after 5 PM and had a great time.  Mike got too hot and went back to the hotel early, although he would have had to leave earlier than I anyway since he had to begin setting up for the main event--the big banquet.  One thing that worked out well was my mini-stereo I brought for the show.  I hooked my iPod to a tiny set of portable, amplified speakers, and hooked the speakers' power input to a small, 12-volt alarm-system battery I had been saving just in case I ever needed it (see, honey?  It really does make sense for me to save all these old parts you think are mostly just junk.  Just because most of them are junk doesn't matter now, because I used this old alarm system battery for a cool project).  The battery had plenty of power to drive the amplified speakers, so everyone who looked into Pandora's engine compartment had the privilege of being serenaded my my Beach-Boys rip-off song "408."  The iPod was set for "repeat" so the song just kept playing all day.  It was great.  

Another nice occurrence was the few minutes I spent inside the McDonald's talking to Mike Drew and his lovely fiancee, Lori.  I'd never really talked much with Lori, and I really enjoyed getting to know her a little better.  I think Mike is definitely marrying up--just as I did 25 years ago.

I got back to the hotel just in time to shower and change clothes for the banquet.  I really hate having to change clothes during the day.  It is such a waste of time--why not just get dressed once and call it good?  Endlessly taking things on and off because we're all slaves to fashion probably costs our nation billions of dollars of lost GDP.  People are wasting so much time worrying about whether this belt goes with these shoes, or does this tie work with this shirt, or do these Recaro seats make my butt look big...  When I got to the banquet, however, I was glad I changed into my dress jeans and dress shirt.  Based on what everyone else was wearing, even I would have felt silly showing up in slipper socks.  EXPLANATORY NOTE:  When Vicki and I were first dating, her brother mentioned to her one day that he had seen me.   His report, however, wasn't  flattering.  I think it was something along the lines of, "Hey Vicki, I saw your new boyfriend at the car wash today, washing his car...in his SLIPPER SOCKS!!!"  So I guess it is possible for a wife to change her husband's behavior.  It just takes 25 years.

The banquet was marvelous.  I shared a table with Clarke, Wilma and Mike, among others, and Gary and Linda Herrig showed up as well (they drove up from their property in the Phoenix area).  The food was absolutely delicious (note to Vicki:  I had some salad and vegetables before I ate the cheesecake).  Our guest speaker was Matt Stone, who is a freelance journalist, author, broadcaster and former editor of Motor Trend Magazine.  He has a bunch of other impressive credentials, but none so lofty as the fact he once was the President of POCA.  His relaxed manner and appreciation of our organization made him an engaging speaker.

The raffle prizes were all given away, and unfortunately, I didn't win anything.  But after the banquet, I got the greatest gift of all--more Karaoke!

As was the case the previous night, everyone was too terrified to get within 10 feet of the microphone, so I took it upon myself to be the first to attempt a Karaoke number (tough job, but someone's got to do it).  Once I sang one song, the proverbial floodgates were opened.  Tonight I was privileged to have some extra help on some of the songs.  A large contingent of women (as opposed to a contingent of large women) volunteered to help me sing "Crocodile Rock."  In fact, singing that particular song was their idea--I just happen to know that song pretty well, so I figured it would be fun to sing as a big group.  Well, it was so much fun we did it again on everyone's favorite "they're trying to sound black but they're really white" song, "Play That Funky Music, White Boy."  There were a number of really talented singers this evening, which was nice.  

I got to know a fascinating woman during the Karaoke session.  Her name is Freddie Peake (Freddie is actually a nickname).  It turns out her husband was the founder of what is now the Pantera Owner's Club of America.  She is an attorney (still practicing) and sings a mean Karaoke song, too!  I mentioned one Frank Sinatra song the I've always wanted to sing, but since my wife hates it, I never have.  Freddie was amazed.  She loves that song!  So for the benfit of Freddie, and because since Vicki isn't here she didn't have to listen to it, I attempted to croon.
I think the spirit of Vicki was in the room, however, because for some reason the DJ lady played the song in a key so low I sounded like Frank Sinatra with a really bad cold.  And flu.  On his deathbed.  With his mouth full of cotton.
I hated to leave on such a low note (ha), but it was getting late and I knew if I wanted to get this blog done by--what time is it now?  Oh yes, 2:34 AM--I'd better get back to my room.
Tomorrow I start the long trip back home.  I hope the air conditioning holds out!  I'll write more tomorrow.  Oh yes, one more thing; I asked Clarke and Wilma what time they were leaving tomorrow--er, today--and they said 7:00 AM.  I thought they must have been kidding.  How ridiculous would that be; leaving before the sun is even really up very much?  Now that I think about it, though, they really might be leaving that early.  If that's true, this may be one time when they get to the motel first.
Sincerely,
Chris