We finally got everyone up, organized, and ready to roll towards the track, of course everyone had to pick on me because the Courtyard didn't have a continental breakfast!
We ended up at a McDonald's, and halfway through eating it was announced that the "yellow impala" in the parking lot had left his lights on.
"Plymouth!" I groaned
The shift leader turned to the guy in the drive through window and said disgustingly, "I told you it wasn't an impala!"
As we left Mcd's, Dale jumped in the back seat of the Satellite, and moved James to the passenger seat. Once we got onto the undulating road leading to the track, I noticed he was moving around from side to side in the back seat. When the tell-tale sound of rubber rubbing on metal was finally evident, he beamed, "I told you, I told you those 255/60's were going to rub, but you wouldn't listen to me!"
"You are a sick Puppy", I exclaimed looking at him in the mirror, "Tossing your three hundred pounds around back there just to prove a point!"

Monday morning, with the 5 gebhartmobiles lined up against the back of the pits, plus Darryl's Dart, was a fine achievement, we felt. I believe this picture is the perfect place to move past this chapter, and start on the next journey!