[DeTomaso] The Fun Rally Chronicles, Day 7

[Christopher Kimball]

Day
Seven, May 29:  Panteras, Panteras
everywhere!

 

Before I begin today’s pontificating, I’ll tell you all I know about
the condition of the gentleman who was taken to the hospital yesterday.  He is still there, and doing OK, but that’s
all I was told.  I know I speak for all
when I say we wish him well.

 

Now; on to my crack reporting.

 

For those of you who don’t believe in miracles, listen to this:  Today I woke up at 7:30 AM—a half hour before my alarm was set to chime.  Was it because of the adrenaline pumping
through my veins in anticipation of the awaiting POCA festivities?  Could it have been due to the fact I was a
part of the largest gathering of Pantera enthusiasts in the world?  Is it possible I was overly-excited for all
that awaited the POCA members?  

 

Perhaps.  

 

It also might have been because there was a free breakfast buffet being
offered this morning.  

 

Just look at the picture!  (Sorry
forum members…)  What a great selection
of food.  In the second picture you’ll
see two of my favorite offerings:  Froot
Loops and Apple Jacks.  If you look
closely at the third picture, you’ll see some of the group enjoying breakfast
more than others—they are the ones eating the Froot Loops and Apple Jacks.  The ones who aren't smiling are probably
eating Rice Krispies or eggs.

 

While enjoying Battle Creek’s finest, I talked with Gene Elliott and
Denny Morse.  They are both from Nevada,
but it didn't appear they knew each other. 
I’m not sure why that surprised me. 
It’s kind of like someone who assumes anyone who has ever worked at
Sears knows his or her brother-in-law who worked there during the ‘70s, or the
folks who, once learning you work for Microsoft, ask if you know their uncle
who works as a janitor for one of Microsoft's subcontractors.  I guess living in Nevada is different from
living in Montana.  In Montana everyone
really does
know all the other residents.

 

Both Gene and Denny were here sans Pantera because both had mechanical
problems (the cars, that is).  I've been
getting a bit nervous over the last couple of days because there seems to be a
disproportionate number of non-running Panteras due to things being
broken.  I may be a bit over-sensitive.  After all, I still have a multi-state trip
home staring me in the face, and I really don’t want to be stranded
somewhere.  Especially if there are
spiders in the bed.

 

As opposed to spider-infested EconoLodges, the facilities here are
really great.  Our room has been clean
and the beds comfortable.  The staff, for
the most part, has been friendly and accommodating.  This morning however, a glaring problem made
itself known.

 

The buffet only offered skim milk. 
Skim milk!  It’s not even real
milk—it’s more like murky water.  It’s a
good thing there is so much sugar in the cereal I ate.  By the time the cereal was gone, the watery
milk was at least sweet enough to drink--from the bowl, of course.  Don’t tell my wife I did that.

 

There were a couple of organized activities set up for this
morning.  One was a drive around the area
on spectacular roads.  I think I
overheard it was about 150-mile affair. 
Although that sounded really fun, after driving over 1400 miles, with
another 1400+ to go, I opted for the second activity which was a visit to the
San Diego Automotive Museum.

 

The group leaving for the scenic drive pulled out of the parking garage
a few minutes before we did, and what a glorious sound it was!  I felt my right foot twitching—it was begging
for a fast drive--but nonetheless I stuck with my resolve to visit the museum.

 

The museum group’s driver meeting went off without a hitch.  Everyone had maps.  Everyone except me, that is.  I felt a map was unnecessary, since I not
only have a phone with built-in GPS, but I also have a stand-alone unit stuck
to the windshield.  What could go wrong?

 

For those of you who aren't a literature-savvy as I am, what you just
read is often referred to as foreshadowing. 
It is an indication that unfortunate plot twists lie ahead.

 

Most of the twists were found in the roads supposedly leading to our
destination.  My GPS indicated the museum
was only 2.8 miles from the hotel, which was a good thing since I was almost
out of gas.  I figured I’d have plenty to
go 2.8 miles, and I’d simply fill up on the return trip.

 

The best laid plans of mice and Pantera navigators, however, often go
awry.  The individual who was supposed to
be leading our group apparently woke up sick this morning and wasn't able to
lead us.  Somehow, our group became
separated and some of us found ourselves performing more than one U-turn within
a relatively short period of time.

 

“I think our group may be lost,” I insightfully surmised.  “Since I have GPS, I’ll simply follow its
directions,” which I did.  At the next
stop sign, when the Pantera in front of me went right, I dutifully obeyed my
GPS and went left.  

 

That, it turns out, was a mistake.

 

In my own defense, let me say that my GPS is programmed with an female
voice speaking with a British accent. 
This does two things.  First, it
reminds me of my mom (except it has not yet exclaimed, “Oh Christopher, for
Heaven’s sake!”), and second, because it reminds me of my mom, it’s hard not to
obey its every command—not doing what I’m told makes me feel as if I’m misbehaving.  Therefore, I religiously followed its
direction (or misdirection, as the case may be) to Balboa Park.  

 

Balboa Park is a large area, and the part of that large area to which
my GPS took me (and the two unfortunate Pantera drivers who made the mistake of
following me) was not the area containing museums.

 

I stopped at the end of a street abutting the park to discuss the
matter with the two other drivers, George Walker and George Bagdasarian (both
from California).  I could tell George
Walker was a little frustrated.  I almost
pointed out he had no room to be mad at my confusion; after all, how confusing
was it he and the other Pantera driver were both named George?  

 

Actually, both Georges were more understanding than I deserved, and
George Bagdasarian said he was pretty sure he knew the way to the Automotive Museum.  We piled back into our Panteras, did another
U-turn, and headed back into traffic.  

 

After a while we approached an area which was quite museum-like.  George pulled into a very
museum-parking-lot-like parking lot, and the other George and I dutifully
followed.  Unfortunately, there were no
other Panteras to be seen, which was a pretty good indication, with all due
respect to Brigham Young, that “this must [not] be the place.”  

 

We did yet another U-turn (this short journey has certainly helped me
brush up on that move) and drove a short distance, whereupon the leading George
slowed to ask a young woman on the sidewalk where she thought the Automotive
Museum might be.  I saw her pointing down
the street, and knew we must be close. 
At least, I hoped so—my little red “almost out of gas” light had begun
to flicker.

 

 

Sure enough, less than a half-mile later we saw a parking lot occupied
by numerous Panteras.  It turned out the
“G” in the GPS system which finally got us to our destination stood for “girl.”

 

There was a crowd milling around the entrance of the museum, and they
looked very Pantera-owner-like.  We were
able to join them as they entered, and I even got to use my two-for-one coupon
to get another Pantera owner in free.  

As you can see in the photo, we were greeted at the museum by a cute
Fiat 500—one of the dainty originals as opposed to the upsized new
version.  To prove there were no hard
feelings between the two Georges and me, I took the shot you’ll see of them,
both smiling.  It’s not the evil, “I’m
about to strangle you” smile, either.  I
think they really sympathized with my over-reliance on my English-accented GPS.  I’ll bet each of them obeyed their mom, too.

 

The museum wasn't large but it had enough vehicles to make the trip
absolutely worthwhile.  Not only were
there a number of cool muscle-cars, but there were some unique vehicles as
well, and quite a few motorcycles.  

 

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but rest assured I’ll describe
the pictures the forum-readers can’t see in fewer words than that.  First, the Hercules Wankel motorcycle.  I thought this was really cool; one of the
only rotary-powered bikes in the world. 
It was in great shape, and completely unrestored.

 

I couldn't resist having my picture taken beside both a Rolls-Royce and
a Daimler (have I mentioned my mom is British?) 
Astute viewers may notice in these pictures a strange texture on my
face.  This is my poor excuse for facial
hair.  Yes, after almost two weeks of not
shaving, this is the best my puny hormones can do.  Vicki tried to make me feel better by sending
a text message with a picture of some guy from an expensive, men’s-clothing
catalog.  He had the same kind of Tom Cruise-like
stubble (for those of you under 30, Tom Cruise was an actor who was really
famous until he appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show and danced on a sofa.  For those of you under 40, Oprah Winfrey is a
woman who had a show once, and is really rich).  For a fleeting moment, I thought I might be
cool.  Then I looked again at the picture
of me in front of the Rolls-Royce and realized, unlike Tom Cruise (or anyone
else cool for that matter), my milkshake-swollen tummy and doughy face make me
about as cool as a 1984 Yugo.

 

I think I’ll shave before the Saturday-night banquet.

 

One of the more unusual cars was Louie Mattar’s Fabulous $75,000
Car.  Those of you reading this may
wonder what’s so fabulous about spending 7 years and $75,000 on a car—all
Pantera owners do this on a regular basis. 
As in, every seven years.  For as
long as they own a Pantera.  

 

Louie’s car was different, though. 
He spent that amount of time and money during the late ‘40s and early
‘50s on a Cadillac which was designed to be continuously driven for
record-breaking purposes.  The car was
outfitted with a refrigerator, stove, drinking fountain, tape recorder,
telephone, and all sorts of other gizmos. 
The axles were hollowed out so air could be pumped into the tires while
driving, the oil and coolant changed themselves as the car was being driven,
and it pulled a trailer with 250 gallons of gasoline.  I noticed the “no smoking” admonition printed
on the trailer’s side.  No smoking around
250 gallons of gas?  No Kidding!  For camping trips the car even had a shower
head mounted on the right fender.  I’m
not sure who, while at a KOA site, would want to stand in front of his or her
car naked while showering, but with Louie Mattar’s car, one could do so if one
chose.

 

He and two other men drove this contraption 6,320 miles across the US
non-stop in 1952, getting refueled from fast-moving trucks while motoring along
the entire time.  I’m not sure what they
did in terms of bathroom needs, but it only took that one, single thought to
destroy any hope I might have had of shortening my drive home to University
place by converting my Pantera to a vehicle similar to Louie’s.

 

As I left the museum via the gift shop, I was pleased to see a panoply
of Griot’s Garage products for sale.  I
knew this museum was a classy enterprise.

 

I stopped for gas on my way back to the hotel, and then it was time for
lunch.  We walked to the nearby mall, and
I went first to Haagen-Dazs (where else) where I picked up a mango smoothie and
a coffee malt.  I was originally only
going to buy the malt but on my way in, there was a nice young woman giving
away free samples of—you guessed it—mango smoothies.  I rationalized the mango smoothie would go
well with the barbecued eel sushi I would buy next (it did), and the coffee malt
would be a delicious chaser (it was).  I
snapped a picture of the partially-consumed smoothie, sushi, and malt.  Looking at that picture makes me thirsty all
over again.  

 

I know I’m going to sound as if I’m a broken record, but the weather
has been unbelievably good.  I snapped
the picture of the palm tree from the upper floor of the mall.  For those of you still in Washington, that
blue color you see surrounding the treetop is called sky.  The legend of something beautiful existing
beyond the clouds is true!  There is also
a large, yellow ball in that very same blue sky called the sun.  I've determined that yellow ball is a really
good thing to have around if you own a collector car.  Perhaps, when global-warming starts to kick
in, we may get some of that sun in Washington. 
Someday.  Maybe.

 

After lunch we walked back to the hotel, and came upon a sad sight in
the parking lot.  A gorgeous, metallic
red Pantera sat wounded on a jack, surrounded by concerned Pantera-lovers.  It was Ed Nagel’s car which had lost a wheel
bearing.  For those of you who aren't as
bearing-savvy as I am, when a Pantera owner says he or she “lost a bearing,” it
doesn't mean the bearing’s location is unknown. 
It means “I’m now going to spend even more money on my car than I
already have.”

 

Luckily, Ed trailered his car here from Texas, so he only has to repair
it sufficiently for the car to make the 20-foot trip onto the trailer.  Remember my mention of nervousness?  Ed’s car is pristine.  He told me almost every panel on the car was
new.  The underside of his car was so
clean you could eat off of it.  Heck, it
was clean enough you could eat it.  The suspension components seemed new and
upgraded, the interior was more luxurious than a Hilton (the hotel, not the
trashy girl), and although I didn't examine the motor, I did see a polished,
dog-leg air cleaner peeking through the pristine engine cover.

 

If that car is having mechanical issues, what chance do I have of
making it home in my 84,000-mile, well-driven ’72?  Then again, risk makes life interesting.  And possibly short, but we won’t go there…

 

After spending a little time in my room relaxing and writing this
hilarious dialogue, we went to dinner at Casa De Reyes.  I think in Spanish that means “House of the
rising exotic car.”  That’s probably why
it was the restaurant chosen to provide dinner for our group.  I think the Animals recorded a song about it
in 1964.  If I’m not mistaken, it made it
to number one in the United Kingdom (did I mention I’m half English?), the United
States, Sweden, Finland, and Canada.  The
US version was edited, however.  The term
“exotic” was too racy for the prudish US radio airwaves, so “exotic car” was
replaced by the word “sun.”  The rest is
history.

 

Getting to the restaurant was fairly straightforward, except our GPS
told us to turn left on a street which didn't allow left turns.  We prevailed, however, and arrived in time to
determine rather than opting for the buffet, we would dine outside and order
from the menu.

 

We shared a table with Dave Hall (from Colorado); owner of two Panteras
including Limezotica (his other one has 297,000 miles on the clock!), Tom Gorny
and his son, Shawn (from California); owner of a ’72 pre-L and a host of other
really cool exotics, and Al Axelrod who drove his ’72 all the way from Colorado
(he was the keynote speaker last year).

 

They were a nice bunch of folks who didn't seem to mind that along with
my baby-back ribs I ordered a large glass of chocolate milk and two scoops of
vanilla ice cream.  Nor did they even
raise any eyebrows as I combined the ice cream with the chocolate milk to make
a delicious…well, I think you can guess.

 

After a good meal and great conversation (looking at the picture you
can almost hear the fascinating stories), we went back to the hotel.  I visited the hospitality suite and ran into
a cadre of San Diego Pantera enthusiasts. 
Pictured left to right:  Jennifer,
Bobby, Martha, Renee, and Ed.  They
initially told me they were the “Famous San Diego Pantera Group,” but after a
moment, decided they should instead be known as the “Infamous San Diego Pantera
Group.”  I think it’s because they are
infamous they didn’t want to give me their last names.

 

I also had my first sighting of the Drews.  It will be fun to talk with them during the
next few days to find out what they've been up to since last year.  I also finally met Tom Shinrock.  He communicated with me via email prior to
the Fun Rally to see if I had an open seat to some of the events.  It was good to put a face with a name.

 

Tomorrow it’s off to see the Midway, the wonderful Midway of Oz.  Actually, it’s the wonderful Midway of the
U.S. Navy.  Should be fun. 		 	   		  
-------------- next part --------------
   Day Seven, May 29:  Panteras, Panteras everywhere!


   Before I begin todays pontificating, Ill tell you all I know about the
   condition of the gentleman who was taken to the hospital yesterday.  He
   is still there, and doing OK, but thats all I was told.  I know I speak
   for all when I say we wish him well.


   Now; on to my crack reporting.


   For those of you who dont believe in miracles, listen to this:  Today I
   woke up at 7:30 AMa half hour before my alarm was set to chime.  Was it
   because of the adrenaline pumping through my veins in anticipation of
   the awaiting POCA festivities?  Could it have been due to the fact I
   was a part of the largest gathering of Pantera enthusiasts in the
   world?  Is it possible I was overly-excited for all that awaited the
   POCA members?


   Perhaps.


   It also might have been because there was a free breakfast buffet being
   offered this morning.


   Just look at the picture!  (Sorry forum members)  What a great
   selection of food.  In the second picture youll see two of my favorite
   offerings:  Froot Loops and Apple Jacks.  If you look closely at the
   third picture, youll see some of the group enjoying breakfast more than
   othersthey are the ones eating the Froot Loops and Apple Jacks.  The
   ones who aren't smiling are probably eating Rice Krispies or eggs.


   While enjoying Battle Creeks finest, I talked with Gene Elliott and
   Denny Morse.  They are both from Nevada, but it didn't appear they knew
   each other.  Im not sure why that surprised me.  Its kind of like
   someone who assumes anyone who has ever worked at Sears knows his or
   her brother-in-law who worked there during the 70s, or the folks who,
   once learning you work for Microsoft, ask if you know their uncle who
   works as a janitor for one of Microsoft's subcontractors.  I guess
   living in Nevada is different from living in Montana.  In Montana
   everyone really does know all the other residents.


   Both Gene and Denny were here sans Pantera because both had mechanical
   problems (the cars, that is).  I've been getting a bit nervous over the
   last couple of days because there seems to be a disproportionate number
   of non-running Panteras due to things being broken.  I may be a bit
   over-sensitive.  After all, I still have a multi-state trip home
   staring me in the face, and I really dont want to be stranded
   somewhere.  Especially if there are spiders in the bed.


   As opposed to spider-infested EconoLodges, the facilities here are
   really great.  Our room has been clean and the beds comfortable.  The
   staff, for the most part, has been friendly and accommodating.  This
   morning however, a glaring problem made itself known.


   The buffet only offered skim milk.  Skim milk!  Its not even real
   milkits more like murky water.  Its a good thing there is so much sugar
   in the cereal I ate.  By the time the cereal was gone, the watery milk
   was at least sweet enough to drink--from the bowl, of course.  Dont
   tell my wife I did that.


   There were a couple of organized activities set up for this morning.
   One was a drive around the area on spectacular roads.  I think I
   overheard it was about 150-mile affair.  Although that sounded really
   fun, after driving over 1400 miles, with another 1400+ to go, I opted
   for the second activity which was a visit to the San Diego Automotive
   Museum.


   The group leaving for the scenic drive pulled out of the parking garage
   a few minutes before we did, and what a glorious sound it was!  I felt
   my right foot twitchingit was begging for a fast drive--but nonetheless
   I stuck with my resolve to visit the museum.


   The museum groups driver meeting went off without a hitch.  Everyone
   had maps.  Everyone except me, that is.  I felt a map was unnecessary,
   since I not only have a phone with built-in GPS, but I also have a
   stand-alone unit stuck to the windshield.  What could go wrong?


   For those of you who aren't a literature-savvy as I am, what you just
   read is often referred to as foreshadowing.  It is an indication that
   unfortunate plot twists lie ahead.


   Most of the twists were found in the roads supposedly leading to our
   destination.  My GPS indicated the museum was only 2.8 miles from the
   hotel, which was a good thing since I was almost out of gas.  I figured
   Id have plenty to go 2.8 miles, and Id simply fill up on the return
   trip.


   The best laid plans of mice and Pantera navigators, however, often go
   awry.  The individual who was supposed to be leading our group
   apparently woke up sick this morning and wasn't able to lead us.
   Somehow, our group became separated and some of us found ourselves
   performing more than one U-turn within a relatively short period of
   time.


   I think our group may be lost, I insightfully surmised.  Since I have
   GPS, Ill simply follow its directions, which I did.  At the next stop
   sign, when the Pantera in front of me went right, I dutifully obeyed my
   GPS and went left.


   That, it turns out, was a mistake.


   In my own defense, let me say that my GPS is programmed with an female
   voice speaking with a British accent.  This does two things.  First, it
   reminds me of my mom (except it has not yet exclaimed, Oh Christopher,
   for Heavens sake!), and second, because it reminds me of my mom, its
   hard not to obey its every commandnot doing what Im told makes me feel
   as if Im misbehaving.  Therefore, I religiously followed its direction
   (or misdirection, as the case may be) to Balboa Park.


   Balboa Park is a large area, and the part of that large area to which
   my GPS took me (and the two unfortunate Pantera drivers who made the
   mistake of following me) was not the area containing museums.


   I stopped at the end of a street abutting the park to discuss the
   matter with the two other drivers, George Walker and George Bagdasarian
   (both from California).  I could tell George Walker was a little
   frustrated.  I almost pointed out he had no room to be mad at my
   confusion; after all, how confusing was it he and the other Pantera
   driver were both named George?


   Actually, both Georges were more understanding than I deserved, and
   George Bagdasarian said he was pretty sure he knew the way to the
   Automotive Museum.  We piled back into our Panteras, did another
   U-turn, and headed back into traffic.


   After a while we approached an area which was quite museum-like.
   George pulled into a very museum-parking-lot-like parking lot, and the
   other George and I dutifully followed.  Unfortunately, there were no
   other Panteras to be seen, which was a pretty good indication, with all
   due respect to Brigham Young, that this must [not] be the place.


   We did yet another U-turn (this short journey has certainly helped me
   brush up on that move) and drove a short distance, whereupon the
   leading George slowed to ask a young woman on the sidewalk where she
   thought the Automotive Museum might be.  I saw her pointing down the
   street, and knew we must be close.  At least, I hoped somy little red
   almost out of gas light had begun to flicker.



   Sure enough, less than a half-mile later we saw a parking lot occupied
   by numerous Panteras.  It turned out the G in the GPS system which
   finally got us to our destination stood for girl.


   There was a crowd milling around the entrance of the museum, and they
   looked very Pantera-owner-like.  We were able to join them as they
   entered, and I even got to use my two-for-one coupon to get another
   Pantera owner in free.

   As you can see in the photo, we were greeted at the museum by a cute
   Fiat 500one of the dainty originals as opposed to the upsized new
   version.  To prove there were no hard feelings between the two Georges
   and me, I took the shot youll see of them, both smiling.  Its not the
   evil, Im about to strangle you smile, either.  I think they really
   sympathized with my over-reliance on my English-accented GPS.  Ill bet
   each of them obeyed their mom, too.


   The museum wasn't large but it had enough vehicles to make the trip
   absolutely worthwhile.  Not only were there a number of cool
   muscle-cars, but there were some unique vehicles as well, and quite a
   few motorcycles.


   A picture may be worth a thousand words, but rest assured Ill describe
   the pictures the forum-readers cant see in fewer words than that.
   First, the Hercules Wankel motorcycle.  I thought this was really cool;
   one of the only rotary-powered bikes in the world.  It was in great
   shape, and completely unrestored.


   I couldn't resist having my picture taken beside both a Rolls-Royce and
   a Daimler (have I mentioned my mom is British?)  Astute viewers may
   notice in these pictures a strange texture on my face.  This is my poor
   excuse for facial hair.  Yes, after almost two weeks of not shaving,
   this is the best my puny hormones can do.  Vicki tried to make me feel
   better by sending a text message with a picture of some guy from an
   expensive, mens-clothing catalog.  He had the same kind of Tom
   Cruise-like stubble (for those of you under 30, Tom Cruise was an actor
   who was really famous until he appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show and
   danced on a sofa.  For those of you under 40, Oprah Winfrey is a woman
   who had a show once, and is really rich).  For a fleeting moment, I
   thought I might be cool.  Then I looked again at the picture of me in
   front of the Rolls-Royce and realized, unlike Tom Cruise (or anyone
   else cool for that matter), my milkshake-swollen tummy and doughy face
   make me about as cool as a 1984 Yugo.


   I think Ill shave before the Saturday-night banquet.


   One of the more unusual cars was Louie Mattars Fabulous $75,000 Car.
   Those of you reading this may wonder whats so fabulous about spending 7
   years and $75,000 on a carall Pantera owners do this on a regular
   basis.  As in, every seven years.  For as long as they own a Pantera.


   Louies car was different, though.  He spent that amount of time and
   money during the late 40s and early 50s on a Cadillac which was
   designed to be continuously driven for record-breaking purposes.  The
   car was outfitted with a refrigerator, stove, drinking fountain, tape
   recorder, telephone, and all sorts of other gizmos.  The axles were
   hollowed out so air could be pumped into the tires while driving, the
   oil and coolant changed themselves as the car was being driven, and it
   pulled a trailer with 250 gallons of gasoline.  I noticed the no
   smoking admonition printed on the trailers side.  No smoking around 250
   gallons of gas?  No Kidding!  For camping trips the car even had a
   shower head mounted on the right fender.  Im not sure who, while at a
   KOA site, would want to stand in front of his or her car naked while
   showering, but with Louie Mattars car, one could do so if one chose.


   He and two other men drove this contraption 6,320 miles across the US
   non-stop in 1952, getting refueled from fast-moving trucks while
   motoring along the entire time.  Im not sure what they did in terms of
   bathroom needs, but it only took that one, single thought to destroy
   any hope I might have had of shortening my drive home to University
   place by converting my Pantera to a vehicle similar to Louies.


   As I left the museum via the gift shop, I was pleased to see a panoply
   of Griots Garage products for sale.  I knew this museum was a classy
   enterprise.


   I stopped for gas on my way back to the hotel, and then it was time for
   lunch.  We walked to the nearby mall, and I went first to Haagen-Dazs
   (where else) where I picked up a mango smoothie and a coffee malt.  I
   was originally only going to buy the malt but on my way in, there was a
   nice young woman giving away free samples ofyou guessed itmango
   smoothies.  I rationalized the mango smoothie would go well with the
   barbecued eel sushi I would buy next (it did), and the coffee malt
   would be a delicious chaser (it was).  I snapped a picture of the
   partially-consumed smoothie, sushi, and malt.  Looking at that picture
   makes me thirsty all over again.


   I know Im going to sound as if Im a broken record, but the weather has
   been unbelievably good.  I snapped the picture of the palm tree from
   the upper floor of the mall.  For those of you still in Washington,
   that blue color you see surrounding the treetop is called sky.  The
   legend of something beautiful existing beyond the clouds is true!
   There is also a large, yellow ball in that very same blue sky called
   the sun.  I've determined that yellow ball is a really good thing to
   have around if you own a collector car.  Perhaps, when global-warming
   starts to kick in, we may get some of that sun in Washington.
   Someday.  Maybe.


   After lunch we walked back to the hotel, and came upon a sad sight in
   the parking lot.  A gorgeous, metallic red Pantera sat wounded on a
   jack, surrounded by concerned Pantera-lovers.  It was Ed Nagels car
   which had lost a wheel bearing.  For those of you who aren't as
   bearing-savvy as I am, when a Pantera owner says he or she lost a
   bearing, it doesn't mean the bearings location is unknown.  It means Im
   now going to spend even more money on my car than I already have.


   Luckily, Ed trailered his car here from Texas, so he only has to repair
   it sufficiently for the car to make the 20-foot trip onto the trailer.
   Remember my mention of nervousness?  Eds car is pristine.  He told me
   almost every panel on the car was new.  The underside of his car was so
   clean you could eat off of it.  Heck, it was clean enough you could eat
   it.  The suspension components seemed new and upgraded, the interior
   was more luxurious than a Hilton (the hotel, not the trashy girl), and
   although I didn't examine the motor, I did see a polished, dog-leg air
   cleaner peeking through the pristine engine cover.


   If that car is having mechanical issues, what chance do I have of
   making it home in my 84,000-mile, well-driven 72?  Then again, risk
   makes life interesting.  And possibly short, but we wont go there


   After spending a little time in my room relaxing and writing this
   hilarious dialogue, we went to dinner at Casa De Reyes.  I think in
   Spanish that means House of the rising exotic car.  Thats probably why
   it was the restaurant chosen to provide dinner for our group.  I think
   the Animals recorded a song about it in 1964.  If Im not mistaken, it
   made it to number one in the United Kingdom (did I mention Im half
   English?), the United States, Sweden, Finland, and Canada.  The US
   version was edited, however.  The term exotic was too racy for the
   prudish US radio airwaves, so exotic car was replaced by the word sun.
   The rest is history.


   Getting to the restaurant was fairly straightforward, except our GPS
   told us to turn left on a street which didn't allow left turns.  We
   prevailed, however, and arrived in time to determine rather than opting
   for the buffet, we would dine outside and order from the menu.


   We shared a table with Dave Hall (from Colorado); owner of two Panteras
   including Limezotica (his other one has 297,000 miles on the clock!),
   Tom Gorny and his son, Shawn (from California); owner of a 72 pre-L and
   a host of other really cool exotics, and Al Axelrod who drove his 72
   all the way from Colorado (he was the keynote speaker last year).


   They were a nice bunch of folks who didn't seem to mind that along with
   my baby-back ribs I ordered a large glass of chocolate milk and two
   scoops of vanilla ice cream.  Nor did they even raise any eyebrows as I
   combined the ice cream with the chocolate milk to make a deliciouswell,
   I think you can guess.


   After a good meal and great conversation (looking at the picture you
   can almost hear the fascinating stories), we went back to the hotel.  I
   visited the hospitality suite and ran into a cadre of San Diego Pantera
   enthusiasts.  Pictured left to right:  Jennifer, Bobby, Martha, Renee,
   and Ed.  They initially told me they were the Famous San Diego Pantera
   Group, but after a moment, decided they should instead be known as the
   Infamous San Diego Pantera Group.  I think its because they are
   infamous they didnt want to give me their last names.


   I also had my first sighting of the Drews.  It will be fun to talk with
   them during the next few days to find out what they've been up to since
   last year.  I also finally met Tom Shinrock.  He communicated with me
   via email prior to the Fun Rally to see if I had an open seat to some
   of the events.  It was good to put a face with a name.


   Tomorrow its off to see the Midway, the wonderful Midway of Oz.
   Actually, its the wonderful Midway of the U.S. Navy.  Should be fun.