[DeTomaso] Fun Rally Chronicles, final entry

[Christopher Kimball]

Day 12, June 3rd: 
Pandora does come through in
the clutch!

 

As I did yesterday, let me
start with the good news:  It’s 11:50 PM
and I’m writing this from the family room in my own home, sweet home.  It feels great being back after a
nerve-wracking couple of days.  To quote
Brownsville Station, “Let me tell you about it!”  (For those of you under the age of 50;
Brownsville Station was a one-hit-wonder—or maybe a one-and-a-half-hit-wonder, whose
claim to fame was “Smokin’ in the Boys’ Room.” 
The quote is from the narration at the beginning of the song.  If you go to YouTube I’m sure you can find
it.  Back then, a high-school student
smoking on school grounds was considered rebellious—even a little on the
edge!  Kind of the Beyoncé of the 1970s,
except Beyoncé is prettier.)

 

Now, where was I?  Oh yes, about today…

 

As I did yesterday, I awoke
prior to my alarm going off; probably due to three main concerns: 1) would the
clutch survive the 9-hours of drive time? 2) would my behind survive the
9-hours of seat-time? and 3) would I be up in time to take advantage of the
free breakfast?

 

Number three was no problem
thanks to my awaking so early (8:00). 
The Quality Inn in which I stayed offered not only a breakfast, but a “hot”
breakfast.  I thought perhaps the hotel’s
rates were as low as they were because the owners didn't actually have to pay
for the breakfast food; they simply stole it. 
No, that wasn't it.  A “hot
breakfast” in hotel-speak means in addition to cold cereal, cold muffins,
hard-boiled eggs (which are cold), cold sticky-buns, cold milk, cold yogurt,
cold juice, and a cold floor, one also gets a yellow discus made from scrambled
chicken embryos.  If you get to the
breakfast room in the first 10 minutes, your discus could be warm-ish.  I’m not sure they ever were hot, exactly.  I suppose you could put them in the microwave
oven for a few minutes.  Doing so would
certainly give them an interesting texture! 
(For those of you younger than 40; that was a Kramer quote.  Look it up.)

 

I had a bowl of Froot Loops
(you know why they spell fruit that way? 
BECAUSE THERE IS NO FRUIT IN THE CEREAL! 
There’s not any Toucan, either, yet there’s a picture of one of those on
the cereal box, too.  I smell a lawsuit).  I also had a glass of orange juice (and when
I say “glass,” I mean “flimsy Styrofoam cup that breaks in half if you accidentally
squeeze it too much”), and a peach yogurt.

 

I packed up, topped off the
gas tank, added a quart of oil, and headed for home.  By the way, I forgot to mention, yesterday
when I stopped for gas/lunch, I noticed there was a Mobile oil-changing
establishment across the parking lot from the gas station/mini-mall
complex.  Since I use Mobile 1 Full
Synthetic oil, I figured they might have some. 
You’d think so, wouldn't you?  I
mean, they are a Mobile oil-changing outfit, after all.

 

Well, guess what.  They didn't have any Mobil 1 Full
Synthetic.  When they asked what kind of
car I had, I told them a Pantera.  The
guy with whom I was speaking looked about 25, yet he knew what a Pantera was
(obviously from the opening scene of the fairly-recent Fast-and-Furious
movie).  He immediately went to his
supervisor—a much older man—probably in his late twenties—and they began
speaking in hushed tones.  After a few
minutes, he returned with three quarts of a different brand of synthetic motor
oil.  I can’t remember now what brand it
was, but I recognized the name, and the bottles were black and
cool-looking.  He told me they no longer
carried that particular brand of oil, so he was just going to give them to me
at no charge.  Pretty cool!  I happily accepted.  

 

Let me ask you
something:  Are you getting the
impression this journal entry is a bit more scattered than my previous
ramblings (if that’s possible)?  If it
is, it’s because I am exhausted.  But it’s
a good kind of exhausted…  Plus, I want
to make this entry sort of a grand finale, since it will be my final effort for
this year’s Fun Rally.  I know many of
you are devastated my change of plans means there will be two less journal
entries than there would have been.  

 

Well, I think several of
you said you were very sad about it.  

 

Well, my sister said she kind
of liked reading them.

 

The car is behaving pretty
well.  As I mentioned, if I push in the
clutch pedal the motor’s rpms immediately decrease a little, but there is no
grinding.  Interestingly, the noise I
heard before is either much quieter, or I just can’t hear it as well because of
the volume at which I listen to my music. 


 

I merged onto I-5, turned
on the cruise-control, and stretched out my legs for a long drive.

 

The weather was great, and
I actually took a couple of scenery shots. 
The first is green trees and hills in Oregon.  The next couple of pictures show the kind of
thing that prevented me from taking pictures: 
Two semis which got side-by-side and blocked me from driving at an
acceptable speed.  I was so annoyed I
took not one, but two pictures of them.  They
plodded along spewing black smoke in my face, and neither would get out of my
way.  I felt like Dennis Weaver (for
those of you under the age of 45, go to Wikipedia and look up “Duel” by Stephen
King).

 

The next picture is another
scenic shot from the freeway.  

 

Speaking of pictures, when I
stopped for gas in Roseburg, one of the attendants was quite excited about
Pandora—that’s him in the picture standing next to her.  Before I could even ask, he suggested I put the gas in rather than having him do it, as the
law dictates.  Obviously a man with his
priorities straight.  

He wanted a picture of the
car, but his phone’s camera was lame, so I used my fancy, huge, Nokia 1520
phone to take the picture, and I texted it to him.  In a display of typical mechanic-humor, when his
buddy (the guy in the background) saw his friend in the picture, he commented, “Great
way to ruin a shot of a good car!”  We
all had a good laugh about that witty interjection.

 

Then it was time to go in
search of a place for lunch.  I
discovered that Roseburg may seem quaint—even a bit old-fashioned—but when it
comes to fast-food, Roseburg is as cutting-edge as MIT.  Roseburg boasts a restaurant that combines
Kentucky Fried Chicken with Long John Silver. 
It’s no Chick Filet, but it offers the chicken I love and the fish I
also love.  What I didn't love was the
fact they didn't offer a decent beverage. 
When I say “decent beverage” I mean milkshake.   Not to
worry, though.  When I was informed of
their lack of important ice-cream-based beverages, and broke down in tears, the
attendant helpfully suggested I cross the parking lot to Pete’s Drive-In.  

 

“They have great
milkshakes!” she exclaimed.  “It will
take a few minutes for your fish to get cooked, so why don’t you get a shake
from them, and just bring it back here?” 
Brilliant girl—she’ll go far.

 

I have always heard for
health reasons, the Department of Health, or the U.S. Food and Drug
Administration, or the USDA, or the Farm Bureau, or some scary-sounding,
food-related, Government agency, absolutely does not allow a patron to bring
food from one restaurant into another restaurant.  Wait; now that I think about it, I believe it
was Vicki who told me that.  Based on how
unruffled the folks at KFC/LJS were about co-mingling their food with Pete’s, I
am now beginning to think the only reason Vicki let me think there was some
food law was to prevent me from taking her to Morton’s while bringing with me a
Starbuck’s Venti Peppermint Mocha Frappuccino made with brevi, double-blended, with
double-pumps, extra-sweet, with whip.  

 

You have to understand,
Vicki embarrasses easily.

 

I went over to Pete’s and
ordered a large, orange malt.  Nectar of
the Gods!  (Note:  I am not really a polytheist.  I am a monotheist.  As Emo Phillips famously said, “I think
monotheism is a gift from the gods…”) 

 

Pete and his wife, the elderly
couple at Pete’s Drive-In busy making food, including one, large orange malt,
seemed very nice.  You can imagine how
horrified I was when I saw the sign indicating in what low esteem they hold
their female employees—at least, the ones who make their fries.  Wow!  I’m
not even going to write what was painted on the sign in the window.  I took a picture of it, and you’ll just have
to go to my Facebook page to see it.  I’m
also going to see if my son, David, can post all my writings and photos on the
Panteras Northwest website (I’m sure he can, it’s just a matter of whether he
has time).  I took a picture of the
entire meal:  Fish, chicken, an orange
malt, and because I truly value nutrition; a squeezable applesauce thing.

 

The next shot is an
artistic, farmhouse-in-the-hills picture. 
In my 55 years of living on this giant blue marble we call earth, I just
haven’t seen enough pictures of farmhouses in hills.  I though one more would just about do
it.  

 

I also took a picture of
the freeway sign indicating the exit for Donald.  This picture is in honor of my younger son,
who has actually been there.  And his
name is Donald.

 

Things were going pretty
well, as far as traffic was concerned, except for the typical lame-brained
people who would rush up behind me, then when I moved right to let them pass,
would instead drive up next to me, and ogle. 
Then, post-ogling, they would forget they were in the fast lane matching
my exact speed.  This would make it
impossible for me to continue driving using my cruise control because of the
slow car that would then invariably be right in front of me but not moving to
its right because most people in this Country HAVE NO IDEA THAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED
TO MOVE TO THE RIGHT AND LET FASTER TRAFFIC PASS YOU ON THE LEFT!!!  

 

Europe’s economy may be a
disaster, but at least they get how to drive.

 

Anyway, things were OK, I
was avoiding shifting, and I felt confident I’d make it home.

 

Then I drove right into
Portland’s rush-hour traffic.

 

My GPS informed me I had a
12-minute delay ahead.  Then, a moment
later, it indicated I had an 18-minute delay ahead.  Then, 25 minutes.  Traffic was that screwed-up!  I took a shot of the bumper-to-bumper
traffic; it was pretty bad.  I crept
along trying to leave the car in first gear without having to stop, but every
time I tried, the same thing that happened yesterday happened today—someone saw
the gap between me and the car in front of me and thought, “I think that Green
Pantera wants me to pull in front of it. 
Why else would it leave such a big gap? 
It couldn't be the Pantera has a manual transmission, could it?  Anyway, what’s a manual transmission?”

 

After I got through that,
things went well.  I stopped once more
for gas in Chehalis, and while there decided a strawberry-flavored milk would
hit the spot.  It did.

 

It’s funny how perspectives
change.  Normally, I think of a drive
from Chehalis to University Place as relatively significant—about an hour.  After the amount of driving I've done over
the last few days, however, it seemed as if I got from Chehalis to my house in
five seconds!  

 

I should amend that last
comment a bit.  There was one small
portion of my last hour of driving that annoyed me.  When deciding what route to take home, I
opted for a back way I know that runs past Fort Lewis, up through a picturesque
little town called Steilacoom.  Of the
various routes, that one has the least stop/starts.

 

Imagine my consternation
when I took the exit, and a few miles later found “night road work” being
performed, with one lane closed on the two-lane road.  I snapped a picture of the stopped traffic, just
for the sake of irony.  I also took a picture
of why you want to wait until the flagger signals you to proceed.  If you go too soon, you might come bumper to
bumper with the kind of truck in the picture. 
You would lose.

 

When I got home, it turned
out Vicki and Don had already eaten.  Since
Vicki has to get to Griot’s quite early, she was about to turn in (she does
accounting work for them, but I always give her great product-ideas to run by
the higher-ups.  I can’t wait until they
start producing the combination car-wax/sundae topping I came up with…).  I was left to my own devices for dinner.

 

It’s been three weeks since
I had all my normal food options.  When Vicki
cooks dinner, it always has a bunch of nutritious stuff in it, but since she
was in bed already, I had free reign (and I’m not just talking about
livestock!)  

 

I started by preparing a
chocolate milkshake, of course.  I've included a picture of the milkshake bar Vicki had built into our kitchen remodel.  It’s no coincidence the kitchen remodel
happened about the same time I got Pandora. 
In fact, my getting a Pantera was contingent on Vicki getting a
remodeled kitchen.  The fact I have a
milkshake bar and a Pantera, shows how fortunate I am to be married to such an
insightful and understanding wife!

 

While the milkshake was
blending, I had to determine the ancillary parts of the meal--protein,
vegetables; that sort of thing.  I looked
in the fridge and noticed a jar of sweet pickles.  Pickles are vegetables, I think, and I liked
the sweet part, so I ate a couple.  I
then discovered that in my absence, no one had eaten the rest of the bacon I
had purchased some time ago.  When I say “some
time ago” it means the “best if used by” date was last week.  I’m humble; I don’t need everything to be the
best—if the bacon ended up being “really good” I’d be happy.  Besides, I hadn't had any bacon for at least
three days (bacon attached to a hamburger doesn't count).  

 

Now I had the protein and vegetable
part covered; what else did I need?  Oh,
yes, the bread group.  I had a bowl of
Frosted Mini Wheats with a bunch of extra sugar (I didn't want to miss the
sugar group).  I also had a couple of
glasses of lemonade—that took care of the fruit group.  I would have eaten some Froot Loops to cover
that, but remember what I said about the “Froot” content…

 

Now it’s 2:20 AM, the 2014
POCA Fun Rally is officially over, and I’m tired.  There are a lot of car shows scheduled for
this summer, and I have a clutch problem to address.  I guess that means it’s time for me to add
some pictures and hit the send button.  

 

Next year you should
consider attending the Fun Rally; then you would know what happened without having
to digest all the extraneous food information! 		 	   		  
-------------- next part --------------
   Day 12, June 3^rd:  Pandora does come through in the clutch!


   As I did yesterday, let me start with the good news:  Its 11:50 PM and
   Im writing this from the family room in my own home, sweet home.  It
   feels great being back after a nerve-wracking couple of days.  To quote
   Brownsville Station, Let me tell you about it!  (For those of you under
   the age of 50; Brownsville Station was a one-hit-wonderor maybe a
   one-and-a-half-hit-wonder, whose claim to fame was Smokin in the Boys
   Room.  The quote is from the narration at the beginning of the song.
   If you go to YouTube Im sure you can find it.  Back then, a high-school
   student smoking on school grounds was considered rebelliouseven a
   little on the edge!  Kind of the Beyonce of the 1970s, except Beyonce
   is prettier.)


   Now, where was I?  Oh yes, about today


   As I did yesterday, I awoke prior to my alarm going off; probably due
   to three main concerns: 1) would the clutch survive the 9-hours of
   drive time? 2) would my behind survive the 9-hours of seat-time? and 3)
   would I be up in time to take advantage of the free breakfast?


   Number three was no problem thanks to my awaking so early (8:00).  The
   Quality Inn in which I stayed offered not only a breakfast, but a hot
   breakfast.  I thought perhaps the hotels rates were as low as they were
   because the owners didn't actually have to pay for the breakfast food;
   they simply stole it.  No, that wasn't it.  A hot breakfast in
   hotel-speak means in addition to cold cereal, cold muffins, hard-boiled
   eggs (which are cold), cold sticky-buns, cold milk, cold yogurt, cold
   juice, and a cold floor, one also gets a yellow discus made from
   scrambled chicken embryos.  If you get to the breakfast room in the
   first 10 minutes, your discus could be warm-ish.  Im not sure they ever
   were hot, exactly.  I suppose you could put them in the microwave oven
   for a few minutes.  Doing so would certainly give them an interesting
   texture!  (For those of you younger than 40; that was a Kramer quote.
   Look it up.)


   I had a bowl of Froot Loops (you know why they spell fruit that way?
   BECAUSE THERE IS NO FRUIT IN THE CEREAL!  Theres not any Toucan,
   either, yet theres a picture of one of those on the cereal box, too.  I
   smell a lawsuit).  I also had a glass of orange juice (and when I say
   glass, I mean flimsy Styrofoam cup that breaks in half if you
   accidentally squeeze it too much), and a peach yogurt.


   I packed up, topped off the gas tank, added a quart of oil, and headed
   for home.  By the way, I forgot to mention, yesterday when I stopped
   for gas/lunch, I noticed there was a Mobile oil-changing establishment
   across the parking lot from the gas station/mini-mall complex.  Since I
   use Mobile 1 Full Synthetic oil, I figured they might have some.  Youd
   think so, wouldn't you?  I mean, they are a Mobile oil-changing outfit,
   after all.


   Well, guess what.  They didn't have any Mobil 1 Full Synthetic.  When
   they asked what kind of car I had, I told them a Pantera.  The guy with
   whom I was speaking looked about 25, yet he knew what a Pantera was
   (obviously from the opening scene of the fairly-recent Fast-and-Furious
   movie).  He immediately went to his supervisora much older manprobably
   in his late twentiesand they began speaking in hushed tones.  After a
   few minutes, he returned with three quarts of a different brand of
   synthetic motor oil.  I cant remember now what brand it was, but I
   recognized the name, and the bottles were black and cool-looking.  He
   told me they no longer carried that particular brand of oil, so he was
   just going to give them to me at no charge.  Pretty cool!  I happily
   accepted.


   Let me ask you something:  Are you getting the impression this journal
   entry is a bit more scattered than my previous ramblings (if thats
   possible)?  If it is, its because I am exhausted.  But its a good kind
   of exhausted  Plus, I want to make this entry sort of a grand finale,
   since it will be my final effort for this years Fun Rally.  I know many
   of you are devastated my change of plans means there will be two less
   journal entries than there would have been.


   Well, I think several of you said you were very sad about it.


   Well, my sister said she kind of liked reading them.


   The car is behaving pretty well.  As I mentioned, if I push in the
   clutch pedal the motors rpms immediately decrease a little, but there
   is no grinding.  Interestingly, the noise I heard before is either much
   quieter, or I just cant hear it as well because of the volume at which
   I listen to my music.


   I merged onto I-5, turned on the cruise-control, and stretched out my
   legs for a long drive.


   The weather was great, and I actually took a couple of scenery shots.
   The first is green trees and hills in Oregon.  The next couple of
   pictures show the kind of thing that prevented me from taking
   pictures:  Two semis which got side-by-side and blocked me from driving
   at an acceptable speed.  I was so annoyed I took not one, but two
   pictures of them.  They plodded along spewing black smoke in my face,
   and neither would get out of my way.  I felt like Dennis Weaver (for
   those of you under the age of 45, go to Wikipedia and look up Duel by
   Stephen King).


   The next picture is another scenic shot from the freeway.


   Speaking of pictures, when I stopped for gas in Roseburg, one of the
   attendants was quite excited about Pandorathats him in the picture
   standing next to her.  Before I could even ask, he suggested I put the
   gas in rather than having him do it, as the law dictates.  Obviously a
   man with his priorities straight.

   He wanted a picture of the car, but his phones camera was lame, so I
   used my fancy, huge, Nokia 1520 phone to take the picture, and I texted
   it to him.  In a display of typical mechanic-humor, when his buddy (the
   guy in the background) saw his friend in the picture, he commented,
   Great way to ruin a shot of a good car!  We all had a good laugh about
   that witty interjection.


   Then it was time to go in search of a place for lunch.  I discovered
   that Roseburg may seem quainteven a bit old-fashionedbut when it comes
   to fast-food, Roseburg is as cutting-edge as MIT.  Roseburg boasts a
   restaurant that combines Kentucky Fried Chicken with Long John Silver.
   Its no Chick Filet, but it offers the chicken I love and the fish I
   also love.  What I didn't love was the fact they didn't offer a decent
   beverage.  When I say decent beverage I mean milkshake.   Not to worry,
   though.  When I was informed of their lack of important ice-cream-based
   beverages, and broke down in tears, the attendant helpfully suggested I
   cross the parking lot to Petes Drive-In.


   They have great milkshakes! she exclaimed.  It will take a few minutes
   for your fish to get cooked, so why dont you get a shake from them, and
   just bring it back here?  Brilliant girlshell go far.


   I have always heard for health reasons, the Department of Health, or
   the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, or the USDA, or the Farm Bureau,
   or some scary-sounding, food-related, Government agency, absolutely
   does not allow a patron to bring food from one restaurant into another
   restaurant.  Wait; now that I think about it, I believe it was Vicki
   who told me that.  Based on how unruffled the folks at KFC/LJS were
   about co-mingling their food with Petes, I am now beginning to think
   the only reason Vicki let me think there was some food law was to
   prevent me from taking her to Mortons while bringing with me a
   Starbucks Venti Peppermint Mocha Frappuccino made with brevi,
   double-blended, with double-pumps, extra-sweet, with whip.


   You have to understand, Vicki embarrasses easily.


   I went over to Petes and ordered a large, orange malt.  Nectar of the
   Gods!  (Note:  I am not really a polytheist.  I am a monotheist.  As
   Emo Phillips famously said, I think monotheism is a gift from the gods)


   Pete and his wife, the elderly couple at Petes Drive-In busy making
   food, including one, large orange malt, seemed very nice.  You can
   imagine how horrified I was when I saw the sign indicating in what low
   esteem they hold their female employeesat least, the ones who make
   their fries.  Wow!  Im not even going to write what was painted on the
   sign in the window.  I took a picture of it, and youll just have to go
   to my Facebook page to see it.  Im also going to see if my son, David,
   can post all my writings and photos on the Panteras Northwest website
   (Im sure he can, its just a matter of whether he has time).  I took a
   picture of the entire meal:  Fish, chicken, an orange malt, and because
   I truly value nutrition; a squeezable applesauce thing.


   The next shot is an artistic, farmhouse-in-the-hills picture.  In my 55
   years of living on this giant blue marble we call earth, I just havent
   seen enough pictures of farmhouses in hills.  I though one more would
   just about do it.


   I also took a picture of the freeway sign indicating the exit for
   Donald.  This picture is in honor of my younger son, who has actually
   been there.  And his name is Donald.


   Things were going pretty well, as far as traffic was concerned, except
   for the typical lame-brained people who would rush up behind me, then
   when I moved right to let them pass, would instead drive up next to me,
   and ogle.  Then, post-ogling, they would forget they were in the fast
   lane matching my exact speed.  This would make it impossible for me to
   continue driving using my cruise control because of the slow car that
   would then invariably be right in front of me but not moving to its
   right because most people in this Country HAVE NO IDEA THAT YOURE
   SUPPOSED TO MOVE TO THE RIGHT AND LET FASTER TRAFFIC PASS YOU ON THE
   LEFT!!!


   Europes economy may be a disaster, but at least they get how to drive.


   Anyway, things were OK, I was avoiding shifting, and I felt confident
   Id make it home.


   Then I drove right into Portlands rush-hour traffic.


   My GPS informed me I had a 12-minute delay ahead.  Then, a moment
   later, it indicated I had an 18-minute delay ahead.  Then, 25 minutes.
   Traffic was that screwed-up!  I took a shot of the bumper-to-bumper
   traffic; it was pretty bad.  I crept along trying to leave the car in
   first gear without having to stop, but every time I tried, the same
   thing that happened yesterday happened todaysomeone saw the gap between
   me and the car in front of me and thought, I think that Green Pantera
   wants me to pull in front of it.  Why else would it leave such a big
   gap?  It couldn't be the Pantera has a manual transmission, could it?
   Anyway, whats a manual transmission?


   After I got through that, things went well.  I stopped once more for
   gas in Chehalis, and while there decided a strawberry-flavored milk
   would hit the spot.  It did.


   Its funny how perspectives change.  Normally, I think of a drive from
   Chehalis to University Place as relatively significantabout an hour.
   After the amount of driving I've done over the last few days, however,
   it seemed as if I got from Chehalis to my house in five seconds!


   I should amend that last comment a bit.  There was one small portion of
   my last hour of driving that annoyed me.  When deciding what route to
   take home, I opted for a back way I know that runs past Fort Lewis, up
   through a picturesque little town called Steilacoom.  Of the various
   routes, that one has the least stop/starts.


   Imagine my consternation when I took the exit, and a few miles later
   found night road work being performed, with one lane closed on the
   two-lane road.  I snapped a picture of the stopped traffic, just for
   the sake of irony.  I also took a picture of why you want to wait until
   the flagger signals you to proceed.  If you go too soon, you might come
   bumper to bumper with the kind of truck in the picture.  You would
   lose.


   When I got home, it turned out Vicki and Don had already eaten.  Since
   Vicki has to get to Griots quite early, she was about to turn in (she
   does accounting work for them, but I always give her great
   product-ideas to run by the higher-ups.  I cant wait until they start
   producing the combination car-wax/sundae topping I came up with).  I
   was left to my own devices for dinner.


   Its been three weeks since I had all my normal food options.  When
   Vicki cooks dinner, it always has a bunch of nutritious stuff in it,
   but since she was in bed already, I had free reign (and Im not just
   talking about livestock!)


   I started by preparing a chocolate milkshake, of course.  I've included
   a picture of the milkshake bar Vicki had built into our kitchen
   remodel.  Its no coincidence the kitchen remodel happened about the
   same time I got Pandora.  In fact, my getting a Pantera was contingent
   on Vicki getting a remodeled kitchen.  The fact I have a milkshake bar
   and a Pantera, shows how fortunate I am to be married to such an
   insightful and understanding wife!


   While the milkshake was blending, I had to determine the ancillary
   parts of the meal--protein, vegetables; that sort of thing.  I looked
   in the fridge and noticed a jar of sweet pickles.  Pickles are
   vegetables, I think, and I liked the sweet part, so I ate a couple.  I
   then discovered that in my absence, no one had eaten the rest of the
   bacon I had purchased some time ago.  When I say some time ago it means
   the best if used by date was last week.  Im humble; I dont need
   everything to be the bestif the bacon ended up being really good Id be
   happy.  Besides, I hadn't had any bacon for at least three days (bacon
   attached to a hamburger doesn't count).


   Now I had the protein and vegetable part covered; what else did I
   need?  Oh, yes, the bread group.  I had a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats
   with a bunch of extra sugar (I didn't want to miss the sugar group).  I
   also had a couple of glasses of lemonadethat took care of the fruit
   group.  I would have eaten some Froot Loops to cover that, but remember
   what I said about the Froot content


   Now its 2:20 AM, the 2014 POCA Fun Rally is officially over, and Im
   tired.  There are a lot of car shows scheduled for this summer, and I
   have a clutch problem to address.  I guess that means its time for me
   to add some pictures and hit the send button.


   Next year you should consider attending the Fun Rally; then you would
   know what happened without having to digest all the extraneous food
   information!