I walked into the toter-home with my camera and time slip just in time to catch the tail-end of a discussion about the weight of my car between the scale operator and Sean Fling.
Sean looked my way with a smirk, and raised his voice, "Well, we all know Billy kinda likes to skirt the rules..."
I met his eyes and raised my voice beyond what was needed in such a small area, "What do you mean...", I paused for effect, the other 5 or 6 people in the room stopped breathing, "KINDA!"
I laughed, "You know I like to bend them right to the limit!"
Sean laughed as well, and everyone else relaxed. I first met Sean and Tara Fling at Drag Week 2006, which was, for all intents, their Honeymoon. Watching them grow into a family, has been one of the joys I associate with this event. The conversation that ensued as the weather raged outside took me off my game, and I forgot to take a picture of the time slip I handed over, so those incrementals will never make it into the log book!

Aaron was already in the passenger's seat of the Valiant and grabbed the route sheet as soon as I shoved it in the car.
"Two hundred and sixty miles, but this will be the earliest you guys have left a track in...?" He let it hang as if it was a question.
"For-ev-er!" I gave it in my best Sandlot impression.
"This is going to get interesting", I warned as we pulled out onto Il-84 alongside the Mississippi, and watched the water on the asphalt mimic the big river to our right. Darren and Rachael pulled out ahead of us, with the Gremlin, John's Valiant, the Barnyard, and finally Robert all following us.
"You might want to hang onto your seat", I grimaced.
Aaron glanced at me with an arched eyebrow, as if trying to discern if I was dramatizing the moment of not. After the first mile or two, Darren and Rachael were steadily pulling away from us. I would've guessed my speed to be about thirty, maybe thirty-five, and if I tried to squeeze another hundred rpm out of the 428, I could feel the back tires slightly moving right and left through my clinched buttocks. No part of my back was touching the tweed cover on the fiberglass bucket, and my shoulder muscles were bunched up like I was carrying concrete blocks. We went around a slight left hand curve as we fell off a hill and the rear kicked out slightly towards the ditch as I counter steered gingerly away from the center stripe.
"Whoah!" Aaron gasped and nearly dropped his cell phone.
"Yeah...I warned ya..it gets a little sketchy on water. How long are they going to have us on I-80?" I nodded toward the route sheet that he had completely forgot about momentarily.
"Only looks like about 4 miles", he confirmed, but never took his eyes off the road ahead.
I hazarded a glance in the rear view for the Gremlin, he had faded back at least a half-mile behind me, and in my quick glance I saw both doors. I decided not to take a second look until we covered the ten miles to the junction for I-80. There were two gas stations at the foot of the hill, and both parking lots were absolutely covered with Drag Week cars, most apparently electing to try and wait the rain out. When I pulled up to the gas pump and crawled out of the Valiant, I felt as cramped up as I would've if we had just drove 120 miles!