Dale sat at the table, and looked out the dining room window towards the scattered automotive debris that covered an acre and a half. He had recently dropped 40lbs., which was already paying huge dividends health wise but this morning it only added to the worn down, disheveled look on his face. The profound lack of sleep, combined with the weight loss left his eyes sunken, with pronounced wrinkles at the edges of the dark circles surrounding them. His entire face was nearly devoid of color, but a smile still toyed with the corner of his lips.
"Why do we continue to do this to ourselves?" He pointed toward the plates, then to the scrambled eggs, biscuits, and gravy on the stove.
"I've always made it a point to tell people that we are smarter than we look, but the evidence is overwhelming to suggest otherwise...", I caught myself laughing at my own joke.
"Very sad, and very true", he took a sip of his coffee, "How much do you have left to do on yours".
Rachael set a plate of food in front of me, and asked if I wanted coffee.
"He's capable of getting his own", Dale retorted.
"Naw, he's really not", Rachael laughed then offered Dale a refill, before sitting down with her own plate.
"Oil change on the Belvedere, if the trans works right when we test drive it. The Valiant is good. Where are you on the Gremlin?"
"It runs", he replied, "but those 4.10s in the Dana are howling like crazy! Not to mention they are going to be way too low for that 572. Last year, I was trapping 150 with the 440 at 7500! I really don't want to spin a 572 that tight, and I have a brand new set of 3.73's sitting on the shelf out there with no time left to install them".
"Speaking of time." I took a moment before broaching the subject, "We need to agree on a deadline for getting out of here tomorrow, I can't do the routine again that we did before the trip to Bowling Green. This is the longest trip yet to a starting track, and I don't want to hear any scenario that has us arriving in Columbus thirty minutes before the cut-off of the tech line!"
"What did you have in mind?" He cradled his cup in both hands and looked me in the eye.
"Well, I've got a 62 mph rig, and no co-driver, so I feel that I need to hit the road by noon tomorrow at the latest!"
"I can help you drive!" Rachael threw her hands up in disgust, my inability to trust her behind the wheel of the 1-ton was becoming an increasingly sore subject.
"That's fair", Dale agreed, "but I'm not going to bail on the Duster".
"I'm just saying I may have to leave you guys behind then...If you guys leave later than that, you can run 75-80 if you choose to, and I simply can't", I explained.