[DeTomaso] Chris Kimball 2013 POCA Fun Rally Journal, Day Two

Christopher Kimball chrisvkimball at msn.com
Tue Apr 23 10:44:36 EDT 2013


When to you get to my age, it's not the length of the stops, it the frequency!
Actually, it's not really the bathroom stops that slow me down.  It's the milkshake stops!
Chris

> To: chrisvkimball at msn.com; detomaso at poca.com
> Subject: Re: [DeTomaso] Chris Kimball 2013 POCA Fun Rally Journal, Day Two
> From: fastgrandma at aol.com
> Date: Tue, 23 Apr 2013 02:57:38 -0400
> 
> Chris, how does an 8 hour drive turn into 12 with just potty breaks???  
> Just what are you doing in there? Even us gals don't take that long!!   
> LOL   That basically leaves you to speed up one of two things.
> 
> Judy
> 
> 
> 
> 
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Christopher Kimball <chrisvkimball at msn.com>
> To: Pantera list serve <detomaso at poca.com>
> Sent: Mon, Apr 22, 2013 10:56 pm
> Subject: [DeTomaso] Chris Kimball 2013 POCA Fun Rally Journal, Day Two
> 
> Monday,
> April 22, 2013
> 
> 
> After a
> restful sleep at the Hermiston Comfort Inn and Suites (restful, 
> undoubtedly,
> because there was a door separating the two snoremeisters), Brian awoke 
> about
> 7:00 and I woke up at about 7:45.  The
> amazing thing about that is I woke up without the aid of an alarm.  
> Those of you who know me know if I get up before
> 9 AM it’s a true sacrifice.  I guess it
> must have been the anticipation of the free breakfast—blueberry waffles 
> were
> included, you know.
> 
> 
> Brian was concerned
> because he realized his plan of packing his shirts last to help prevent
> wrinkles had backfired.  The good news is,
> his shirts won’t have any wrinkles.  The
> bad news is, that’s because they are still hanging in the closet back 
> at his
> house.  A thought flashed across my
> mind.  I remembered the story of Jesus
> telling his disciples that if someone asked for your coat to give your 
> cloak as
> well.  I realized I had packed enough
> shirts for me to wear a clean one each day, and I could probably wear 
> each
> shirt twice, and let Brian use the extras.
> What better way to demonstrate Christian love and charity.
> 
> 
> Inspired by
> such spiritual thoughts, I told Brian he should just buy a bunch of new 
> shirts
> for the trip.  He liked that idea.  It reminds me of the Bible story 
> about
> getting new wineskins when you forget the old ones in your closet.
> 
> 
> It turned
> out Brian did pack some “emergency shirts” to be used if he needed to 
> crawl around
> under any Panteras, so for now he’ll just wear those.  Once we get to 
> the Fun Rally, there will be
> all sorts of cool shirts for him to buy.
> 
> 
> Buoyed by
> this thought, we went to breakfast.
> 
> 
> In addition
> to waffles, they also had sausage, cereal, yogurt, assorted pastries, 
> and scrambled
> eggs.  Well, it was more like scrambled
> egg.  Brian and I didn’t get to the
> dining room until 8:40 or so, and all I can assume is that every other 
> hotel
> guest had gotten up at 6 AM and immediately headed to the dining room to
> descend like locusts on the food.  The
> good news was, there was still plenty of blueberry waffle mix, and 
> several
> gallons of syrup.
> 
> 
> One odd
> detail to note about our time at breakfast:
> The television would only receive one channel—CNN.  The reason I knew 
> only one channel was
> available is I tried to change it, but the only other thing on was 
> another channel
> with no dialogue reporting on a continuous snowstorm.  Now, I enjoy 
> news as much as the next guy,
> but those of you who know me know that CNN isn’t my favorite news 
> channel.  I went to the front desk and asked if they
> might be able to adjust the set so I could see people reporting news so 
> I could
> decide.  I was told the Choice Hotel
> conglomerate had a one-channel policy.  I
> was almost compelled to point out the similarity between that and 
> China’s
> one-child policy, and how China’s arrangement hasn’t worked out so 
> well, but I
> thought discretion might be the better part of valor, so I just smiled 
> and
> thanked the nice lady behind the desk.
> 
> 
> I then
> called the Choice Hotel amalgam to ask if they really did have a 
> world-wide,
> CNN monopoly for their dining rooms.  The
> customer-relations specialist with whom I spoke said each local hotel 
> can be individually
> franchised, or be part of a larger, multi-unit group.  Each hotel or 
> group of hotels can apparently allow/censor
> whatever news channels they deem appropriate/dangerous.  I thought it 
> was pretty ironic that there was
> only one channel in a hotel with the word “choice” in its name, but 
> then I
> remembered; I was in Oregon…
> 
> 
> After
> breakfast, Brian and I went out to assess any damage done to our cars 
> from the
> previous day’s traumas.  The only damage
> Brian noticed on his car was a thick layer of caked dirt covering every 
> square
> inch of every painted surface.  It rained
> during the night, and then either 1) the dust storm through which we 
> drove
> yesterday was still extant and had followed us, or 2) someone had 
> dredged a
> river and dumped the silt on Brian’s car.
> I was feeling quite smug as I removed from my car the cover I so
> insightfully brought on the trip, until I saw, in the bright light of 
> day just
> how much paint damage the stupid tumbleweed had caused.  The front of 
> my car now has the automotive equivalent
> of acne.  The devil weed that smacked
> into the front of my car left in its wake dozens of small, white dots.  
> Those of you who know cars know that can only
> mean one thing—THROUGH TO THE PRIMER!
> Even Griot’s Garage products can’t fix that.  Now, when people look at 
> Pandora at car
> shows, I’ll probably re-live the embarrassment I experienced as a 
> 20-year-old
> touring with a band.  After a
> performance, a young kid came up to me and instead of telling me how 
> much he
> enjoyed the music, or how much he liked my drum set, or what a great 
> drummer he
> thought I was, he simple asked, “What are all those red dots on your 
> face?”  Dermabrasion hadn’t been invented yet.
> 
> 
> We checked
> out of the hotel and headed to the gas station next door to fill up.  
> Those of you who know me know I always loved
> the cartoon show The Jetsons.  Even so, I
> was somewhat reticent to filling Pandora’s gas tank with “Astro Space” 
> gasoline.  For you youngsters; Astro was the name of the
> Jetson’s dog.  Oh, you probably don’t
> even know who the Jetsons are, do you?
> Well, just Google it!
> 
> 
> Brian
> noticed that his clutch was behaving strangely.
> He suspects it might be a faulty plunger or something.  It is losing 
> hydraulic pressure, which isn’t
> a good thing.  We put out an SOS to all
> the folks heading to the Fun Rally to see if any of them might be able 
> to bring
> a spare hydraulic clutch master cylinder.
> I think things will work out OK, because Pantera owners always come
> through in the clutch.
> 
> The drive
> today was much nicer than yesterday’s.  I
> only saw one tumbleweed, and it was across the road before I came within
> striking distance.  Due to Brian’s
> responsibleness, there have been no speeding tickets thus far.  Those 
> of you who know me know I probably won’t
> be able to maintain this snail’s pace indefinitely—I fear on some long, 
> straight
> stretch we encounter over the next week I may give in to my inner Speed
> Racer.  It’s the adrenaline rush I
> crave.  Today, in fact, going 80 I found
> myself getting drowsy.  The only thing
> that kept me from slipping into slumber was a combination of loud 
> music, Corn Nuts
> and Junior Mints.
> 
> 
> For lunch, I
> decided to take a random exit leading to a random town.  The sign said 
> “Huntington 1 mile.”  I thought Huntington sounded like a nice name
> for a town, and that’s where we should go for lunch.
> 
> 
> A mile or so
>  from the exit, we arrived in the town of Huntington, Oregon.  When I 
> say town, I’m being generous.  There was one gas station (“it costs too 
> much
> to have the gas delivered to the station, so the guys go get it 
> themselves and
> bring it back into town”), one bar, and one café.  That’s about it.  We 
> asked a local the population of Huntington
> and were told, “it depends on which day of the week you’re asking.”
> 
> 
> Fortunately,
> the café was quite quaint, having been built in 1890.  I had been 
> remodeled since then, and
> modernized all the way up to the 1970s.
> The food was delicious, and very inexpensive.  My lunch consisted of a 
> huge BLT (with bacon
> 2” thick), a salad (see Vicki—I really do eat nutritious food once and 
> awhile!)
> and a lemonade—all for just ten bucks, and that included the tip!  
> Brian’s cost a bit more, but that’s because
> he ordered the fresh marionberry pie for dessert.  Did I mention Brian 
> doesn’t eat ice
> cream?  The bonus of the day was that the
> pie was alamode.  Thinking quickly, I
> recommended—for Brian’s health and well-being, you understand—that the 
> ice
> cream be brought “on the side.”  Being
> the kind, generous man that he is, rather than let it go to waste, Brian
> offered his ice cream to me.  It reminds
> me of the Bible story of the five loaves and two ice cream cones.
> 
> 
> After
> stuffing ourselves silly, we headed back to I-84 East, deciding to 
> forgo the
> questionable gas offered by Huntington, but not before answering all the
> typical questions about our cars.  The
> manager of the café and the server were both so taken with them, that 
> they left
> the café and walked a half-a-block down the street to get a closer 
> look—leaving
> Brian and me as the only souls left in the entire building.  During the 
> ensuing discussion, the women
> commented that the cars looked “real spendy.”
> I downplayed the bottomless pit of expenses one must incur when owning a
> Pantera, and told them Panteras aren’t really that expensive.  Within 
> seconds, the younger of the two had
> Googled “Pantera” and seen the prices of some for sale.  Her next 
> statement was, “Not that expensive?  Your car costs more than my house 
> is worth!”  What this means isn’t that Panteras are
> expensive; it means the economy of Huntington may just be smaller than 
> the town
> itself.
> 
> 
> After some
> picture-taking (I took pictures of the old building; they took pictures 
> of our
> cars) we said goodbye to Huntington.  A
> couple of hours later we stopped in Boise to fill up, and almost got 
> blown away
> by the 400 mph wind.
> 
> 
> During the
> trip I have been trying something new.
> Some time ago, my sons David and Donald convinced me to get a
> new-fangled Windows phone.  Yes, it does
> windows.  It also allows me to talk to it—and
> it answers!  This is very handy when
> arguing with someone smarter than me.  I
> can simply ask my phone for the answer to virtually any question, and 
> within
> seconds, I’ll have access to the internet and literally thousands of 
> incorrect
> and conflicting results.
> 
> 
> The phone
> has the capacity to store as much music as my iPod, and has GPS 
> capability,
> too.  Although I have a great GPS I’ve
> come to trust over the years, the thought of combining my music, GPS 
> and phone
> in one convenient and loud package (the new phone runs through my car’s 
> stereo
> system) was very appealing.  Before
> leaving for the trip, I tried calling Vicki from the car using the 
> phone in a
> hands-free mode, and she could hear me talking, and I could hear her 
> loud and
> clear through the 1500-watt stereo.  When
> she started singing, I actually had to turn it down a bit.
> 
> 
> This was
> looking promising!  There was still one
> problem, however.  I wasn’t sure where to
> put the phone while driving.  Anyone who
> knows Panteras knows there aren’t too many convenient, flat surfaces on 
> which
> to put things.  This is where the miracle
> of “as seen on TV” comes in.  Not long
> ago, I saw an advertisement for a device called “Gripgo.”  The ad 
> claimed the unit would suction-cup
> itself to a car windshield, and suspend any cell phone as if by magic.  
> The guy on TV proved how effective Gripgo
> really is by sticking an expensive cell phone to it and then holding 
> the entire
> affair out a moving car’s window and shaking it violently.  One wonders 
> how many takes, and how many cell
> phones, it took before they filmed one that worked.
> 
> 
> I enlisted
> the help of David and Donny to research Gripgo, and we went to the font 
> of all knowledge;
> internet reviews.  We watched on YouTube as
> a mild-mannered gentlemen demonstrated the stickum power of Gripgo.  
> Gripgo was so sticky, in fact, that partway through
> the video, the gentleman became a bit less mild-mannered when he was 
> unable to
> free his cell phone from the Gripgo’s miracle sticky surface—sending 
> him into a
> momentary burst of profanity.
> 
> 
> I was moved
> by his description of Gripgo, and ordered one.
> It arrived the day before I left for the Fun Rally.  It came in a box 
> with Chineses writing all
> over it, and had obviously been stepped on by every man, woman and 
> child living
> in China.  Amazingly, the product inside
> the decimated box was undamaged.
> 
> 
> The Gripgo
> works great, as did the new phone/GPS/music arrangement, until after 
> three
> hours the phone battery gave out.  Apparently,
> when asking the phone to perform three different functions, the battery 
> wears
> out three times as fast.  Who knew?  Plus, I left my phone’s car 
> charger at
> home.  Good thing I also brought my regular
> GPS.
> 
> 
> Another
> thing I accomplished before leaving for the trip was to replace the 
> dash-board-light
> dimmer knob in the Pantera with a volume-control knob.  Why would I do 
> such a thing?  The reason is simple:  Once I started using LEDs in my 
> dashboard,
> the dimmer knob became useless.  When I’m
> listening to my iPod, radio, phone, or other devices, often the volume 
> of different
> songs stored from different sources varies wildly.  Having the control 
> within easy reach makes
> adjusting the relative volume quite easy.
> It’s funny how such a small thing can make such a big difference in
> listening pleasure!
> 
> Brian and I
> arrived in Twin Falls Idaho an hour ahead of schedule.  That was 
> because there was a time change
> about which I had forgotten.  The bad
> news is the time change means I lose an hour of sleep tonight.  D’oh!
> 
> 
> As we
> arrived at the hotel we saw Clarke and Wilma Hamm arriving, too.  It 
> was a nice coincidence, and pretty much
> guaranteed we would all share a delicious meal at the Golden Corral.  
> Yes, it’s the same Golden Corral about which
> I waxed eloquently last year.  It’s
> exactly the same as it was then--$12 gets you all you can eat.  The 
> four of us shared a table and consumed
> enough food to feed the entire population of a small city.  I’m back in 
> the room now, typing this
> journal, and I’m not using a table.  The computer
> is simply resting on my protruding stomach.
> Not really, but I feel that full!
> 
> Tomorrow is
> a long haul; about 8 hours of driving time.
> When you add in the time needed for bathroom stops, that mushrooms into
> at least 12 hours of travel…
> 
> 
> So until
> tomorrow—drive safely! 		 	   		
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