Since Dale has raced Nationals and Divisionals at Heartland Park many times, the guys know exactly where the shower facilties are, so Boone and Dale headed that way immediately. Darren decided to drive his Dakota over instead of walking, and as he opened the door to get in, I noticed that he had his license plate in the back window.
"When did you put that up there?" I asked, gesturing at the tag.
He laughed, "Well, that's another story...we came down the off ramp from 59 this morning and turned left on 56."
"Yeah, I remember the spot".
"This thing was overheating, so we pulled over on a wide spot just after driving under the bridge, and a Kansas Highway Patrol pulls up right behind me and turned on his lights. He walked up and asked why I had no visible license plate on the vehicle, and since I was about half asleep, I reached over in the floorboard, dug the plate out, and handed it to him!"
"Oh boy, I bet that went over well!"
"Yeah...not really! He wanted my license, the registration, the insurance verification and he wanted to compare it all to the V.I.N.! Luckily everything was in order, so he relaxed and just talked to Boone and I until we had it cooled down and were ready to roll again".

Darren parked in front of the building, and went in to get his shower, Boone and Dale came out a few minutes later and walked back over to our pit area, to finish packing up.
"Boone, you don't look any better, you look plum wore out!"
"James drove the Gremlin while Dale slept a little, then Dale had to spell Darren in the Dakota, then Dale drove the Gremlin while James slept. I've been up since we showed up at TRP Monday morning!"
"That...is not good!" I stared at the route sheet. 320 miles away from the two pre-paid motel rooms I had in Norman OK. Those rooms might as well be on the moon for all the good they were going to do us!

We were packed up and ready to roll when Darren came out. He fired up the Dakota, then shut it off twice in a row, then got out and walked over to us.
He stroked both hands through his hair and said, "She's got no oil pressure..."

If the Dakota had any number of engines in it, Darren's statement would have been met with "you're done", but since it's a 440 with a milodon external dual line oil system, a remote filter, and an oil cooler, Dale just gave a flat, "probably just need to prime the pump".

I decided to spring my plan on them at that moment, "Why don't we send Pops and Rachael back down to the motel we stayed at last night, get some rooms, find some food, and head out for Noble around midnight?"
They only took a moment to consider it, and Dale said, "Sounds good, let's do it!"

It only took two attempts at dumping oil in the line to his pump to restore the pressure needle to it's proper place, and we headed out about 10 minutes after Rachael left. I was leading our group, and immediately took a wrong turn out of the Heartland Park gate and had us out in the sticks in 4 miles before I pulled over, got out, and tossed my hands up.
"We just HAD to follow you, just to see what you were up to", Boone laughed.

The trip to the motel included pulling the Valiant to the shoulder on I-75 to allow it to cool down from 240. Of course, Boone and Dale both hassled me about it, constantly reminding me that they run without t-stats, and never overheat.

We checked into the motel, then walked over to the Golden Corral. It was nice just to all sit down together and decompress a bit.
"So Dale, heard you spent some seat time in the Dakota last night. Are those front shocks as bad as Darren claims?"
"Yeah, it's got those drop spindles on the front, and when you add in those dead shocks, it's a miracle it still has an oil pan!" He smiled, knowing I was working Darren.
"Why did you have to drive?"
"Boone begged me to, he was following Darren, and called me because he was swerving all over the road!"
"Dang near went head on with a truck!" Boone chimed in.
"Guy hits the rumble strips once or twice, and everybody freaks out!" Darren smiled, refusing to be ruffled with a full plate of food in front of him.
I hastily grabbed my phone and sent a text to all the interested parties that our plan was to sleep here and head out later. The text I got back from Darryl simply said, "You need to pick up the pace to catch that Falcon."
I hadn't even thought about checking the results up to this point, but now I was curious.

We agreed to leave the motel at midnight, and I was up and had a shower at Eleven, but it was tough to get Rachael, Dale and James up and moving. I decided to take my bag out to the car, and see if the other guys were moving around yet. Dad and Boone were moving, but Darren was still in their room. When we walked outside a light flashed several times in the sky.
"Was that lightning?"
"Yes! I told these guys there is a storm coming in, and nobody wants to move!" Dad was clearly perturbed.
Four of our five cars are wearing M/T ET Streets, and hard rain is kryptonite to those tires.

One lessoned learned with a group this size, is that a caravan style of traveling doesn't really work, if you are constantly waiting for the slowest person in each situation, it just chews up too much time. So, it's better to concentrate on your own car, and keep moving forward if possible in a leap frog type fashion. The key to making this work is staying in contact by phone with everyone in the group, and letting them know as quickly as possible if there is a problem.

"Dad, did Rachael buy fuel yet?"
"Yeah, she filled the tank on the way here to the motel yesterday...last night, whatever it was!"
"Ok", I addressed Boone as well, "I'm going to go fill up the Valiant, and come back to see if everyone is ready to go, but if they get around before then, go on without me and I'll catch up".
The station across from the motel apparently closed at midnight. I pulled in and all the lights were on, so I ran my card and started pumping, I had about 75 cents in the tank when all the lights shut off, the pump stopped, and the clerk walked out the front door, turned around and locked it, then headed towards his car.
"Where the heck does a person find a gas station around here!" I yelled at him.
He looked over at me, startled, and stammered out, "Uh...go under the freeway, then about a mile up and on your left..."
I hung up the pump, and crawled back in the Valiant. Halfway to the next station, the sky opened up and it was raining buckets.
When I returned to the motel, Darren had the Dakota up under the lobby portico, and was once again priming the oil pump. It was 1:00AM by the time we ventured out on a rain soaked US-75. Darren in the lead with Rachael and Pops behind him, then I was a half mile back, then Boone and Dale quickly faded back behind us. With the ET Streets, If you feed too much power to it, you break traction, and the rear feels like it is on ice. When you lift, for that little bit of time the converter allows deceleration, you still have no traction, then when the engine falls below stall speed, and the rear is freewheeling, you can gather it up again. So the tendency is to drive along, just barely into the converter, with an eggshell under your throttle. For most of us that equates to 25-35 mph, but Dale's Gremlin is light in the back and has a 95 inch wheelbase, and Boone was pulling a trailer, so they were having more difficulties. It's really not horrible on a backwoods two lane, but it doesn't really work on a major highway, and the worst case scenario is a Turnpike, or toll road, because these usually have a higher minimum speed limit, and a bunch of people in a big hurry! Our route for the next 100 miles or so, however, was exactly that, the I335/I35 Kansas Turnpike, so it was with a little trepidation that I pulled up to the toll booth at the entrance and grabbed my ticket from the machine.

Darren was about 3/4 of a mile ahead of me, and Rachael was following him with her four-way flashers on. The rain was fairly mild for the first five miles or so, and I was steadily gaining on them, then we hit a stretch where I could barely make out the road, it was raining so hard (yeah, no wipers either). I don't know if the truckers we were sharing this early morning jaunt with were being duly cautious, given the conditions, or if they were simply checking out our rides, but all of them seemed to slow when they passed us, making it considerably less harrowing than some of our past experiences.
Finally I caught up with them, and Rachael let me pass, so she could follow both of us with her warning lights. I found that Darren's 33 X 18.50 Et Streets were cutting a great path in the water for my 30 X 13.50s to follow, so the only time I felt the back kicking around after that was when we would hit pools of water in the roadway, or streams of water running across the road.
Boone called me, and we figured out they were about 6 miles behind us, and he was complaining about both Dale and him getting crossed up on several of the bridges. "We are gun shy now, we slow every time we approach a bridge, regardless of how short it is", he explained.
We covered forty miles in a little over an hour, then Darren made a hasty exit to the shoulder with the Dakota. I pulled over ahead of him, and Rachael stopped behind him. I called Boone to tell him we were stopped before I even got out of the Valiant to check on the problem.
"My headlights went out...apparently I've cooked the battery", Darren exclaimed. He yanked his hand back from the hot stainless lid on his Taylor battery box. The acrid sulfur smell, and the tea kettle sound should have been warning enough, but Darren prefers a three senses kind of approach, I suppose. Once Boone and Dale arrived, they formulated a plan to steal one of the Barnyard Viper's batteries to replace the one Darren had fried. I was walking around snapping a few pictures, and basically staying out of the way, so I wasn't privy to the conversation, but I believe they were leaning on Darren pretty hard for not monitoring the charging situation properly. The fact that they expected him to take responsibility for damaging his own equipment didn't set very well with him, so no sooner than they had the battery swapped in, he fired the Dakota, spun out into the highway, and fishtailed away from us in a huff. Everyone else was standing around the trailer, putting the tools away, and I was right next to the Valiant, so I jumped in, and took off after him.

Three miles down the road, he was pulled over on the shoulder at an odd angle with his lights shut off. "Why in the heck would he pull over to wait on us, when he is the one constantly slowing us down", I asked myself as I simply drove on by. As I expected, his headlights came on, and he pulled out to follow me. I kept looking in the mirror, and he continued to maintain my pace, but about a half a mile behind me.
Ten miles or so later we passed a well lit service area in the center, with a gas station, and a McDonalds, but I had the bit in my teeth now, and wasn't about to stop. Five miles later, I was climbing a long hill, and glanced in the rear view mirror to see nothing but pitch darkness, not a single set of headlights behind me for miles.
I pulled out my cell phone, 3:02 AM, "Boone, where are you guys?"
They had all stopped in the service area, Dale needed fuel, and they were searching for E-85, as the jugs they filled when they left Tulsa were all but empty, and the Dakota continued to guzzle it at an alarming rate.
I successfully navigated my way off the Turnpike at exit 71 and onto Kansas 254 West. I drove about 8 miles looking for the next turn to the left on Chico street, but according to the route sheet I should have been there already, so I pulled over, shut the car off and dug out my free Harbor Freight flash light. I swear it was "Chico" driving down the road at forty, holding the sheet up next to the fifty-two year old dome light, but now, on the side of the road in good light, I realized I was looking for "Ohio" Street, which I found easily after back tracking three miles!

Ohio street led me into the town of Augusta Kansas around seven miles later, and according to the route sheet we had covered 125 miles at this point, which is nearing the end of my comfort zone on fuel range, so I found a gas station in a large grocery store parking lot and pulled in to fill up. I had a couple of gallons in the cell when a young police officer pulled up next to the pump beside me. The next instructions on the sheet were a bit cryptic, so I just asked him how to catch US-77 south from where we were.
"Uhh, yeah, just go down here until you see the car wash on the left, and then turn right. That's main street, then go a couple of blocks to Osage, turn left on that, then right on seventh, and you will run right into it!"
I thanked him, finished pumping my 91, and headed off in that direction. I was glad to have the help, because "Main Street" wasn't at all what I expected. I turned right onto a wide street made up of massive concrete slabs, cracked, sealed, and re-sealed, driving across them felt like they were surely several feet thick, the side walks were elevated above the road level, and the yards rolled up towards the houses which were elevated even more. The large, ancient homes were dwarfed by the huge trees that lined the roadway, their canopies nearly touching above me as I idled by. "Great place for a horror movie", I thought to myself, and was much happier when I emerged onto 77 and wound the small block back up to cruising speed.

Boone called, and explained that the E85 situation was becoming a problem, "The E85 finder on Dale's phone says there is a station in Ark City, that has it, so can you check when you go through there?"
"Sure, I'm going by a sign right now that says Arkansas City twenty-four miles, so I'll give you a call when I get there".

I cruised through Arkansas City rather slowly, checking each station I passed along the route, none had any mention of E85 that I could see. I called Boone when I had cleared any vestiges of town and was cruising once more on a dark lonely two lane.
"I didn't see anything Boone, E10 or E15 I think, but no E85."
"Alright, well, we just passed that Ark City twenty-four mile sign, so I guess we will check it out soon enough".

By my math, I figured I had about 30 miles on them at that point, not bad, and I had the bit in my teeth again, as I was only 25 miles from our single checkpoint on this leg at Ponca City, Ok. The photo in the post above was my checkpoint picture, I took it at 6:20AM, and I still had a hundred and thirty miles to cover before I would be in the pits at Thunder Valley Raceway Park. Luckily, most of it was straight down I-35, and the rain was gone, so hopefully I could make decent time. I stopped and fueled at a station right before I jumped on the interstate.

Awesome

Id agree, once Billy starts the dragweek tale, I look for it first everytime I log on, and long on more often to check, its allways quite the story

All that goes through my mind is does the dakota make it will the arguing continue, or will dale go off . Imagine a tv narrator like from the tv show soap hahahaha

I'm going to tell this next part of the story in third person, because, well, all I was doing was driving down I-35. Everyone else was having all the fun!

The group moved their way down 77 South into Winfield Kansas, and spotted a Wal-Mart, with a McDonalds in the parking lot, and decided to pull in. Rachael went into the McDonalds to grab breakfast for everyone, while Dale went to Wal-Mart, namely for everything to change his trans fluid. The Power Glide is what ended his trip last year, this year it is a different transmission and converter, but the same problem. He was thinking the problem was with the engine tune at this point. The Gremlin has 2 1/4 header pipes that snake between the engine and the stock frame rails, then join into four inch collectors that basically bracket the trans on each side, and run headlong into four inch bullet mufflers with turndowns in front of the ladder bar brackets. considering the Gremlin's wheelbase that should give you an idea how packed in all that stuff is.
"When we run down the road at 27-2800 rpm, there isn't a problem, the floorboard doesn't even get hot. We kick it up to 3-3200 area to make up time, that's when it starts building heat in the floorboard and starts killing the trans fluid."
"Yeah", James agreed, "It's like it starts building a ton of heat in the exhaust at that rpm...like it's lean".
"Or extremely rich, and burning it in the pipes, crazy thing is, it doesn't affect the water temp, or oil pressure at all. Obviously we beat up the fluid yesterday, trying to hustle into Heartland Park, and even though we've kept the temps down tonight, the shifts are noticeably softer!"
By the time they finished with shopping and breakfast, they had a plan to make the final ten miles into Arkansas City, then they would be in all out search mode for E85.
Darren took off first, with Dale in close pursuit. Rachael tried to start the Belvedere, but it wouldn't turn over, so Dad flagged down Boone before he headed out of the parking lot. Boone played with the shifter, and it seemed to be moving through the gears, so finally he grabbed a screwdriver, and crossed over the solenoid. Two miles down the road she pulled into a medical complex parking lot, and Boone followed her.
"It's stuck in second gear", she reported when Boone parked the Barnyard next to her.

Dale and Darren drove into the fourth gas station in Arkansas City, and it was clearly desperation time for them at this time. The town was alive with early morning business, as people swarmed the small convenience store, on their way to work. The Gremlin, and the Dakota were clearly causing a stir with the locals, so Dale used it to his advantage, and boomed out, "Does anyone here, know anyplace in this town, where we can get some E85?"
One guy was halfway to his truck, coffee in hand, and he spun around and addressed Dale, "Got a Friend here in town, Jim Childs...races a 66 Fairlane on E85. We can give him a call!"

Jim Childs agreed to meet them at the station, with ten gallons of E85, but warned them that five gallons had been sitting for a while and may not be good. When he arrived, Dale agreed that the second jug seemed to have taken on water, and he didn't want to send it through Darren's system. While purchasing the fuel, Dale got the call from Boone that Rachael's cable was burnt beyond repair.
Mr. Childs had overheard the conversation, and had already explained to the guys that the only E85 was back in Wellington Ks, which was thirty-three miles away, in the wrong direction. As he listened to Dale, James, and Darren discuss possible solutions to both problems, he offered up his own.
"I've got a brand new five foot B&M cable at the house, I'll take seventy bucks for..."
"Done deal, we'll take it" Dale interrupted
"Ok, here's what we are going to do. Darren and I are going to drive my truck back to my house, and I'll give him the cable. Then he can take my truck to Wellington to get all the E85 he needs, when he gets back here to get his Dakota, just park my truck in that spot, lock the door, and throw the keys under the floor mat, I'll pick it up later. Now, if you guys need to work on the Gremlin, or install that cable, here is the number for my buddy Rod Mills, he operates Mills Automotive Repair here in town, has a lift, and will help you out, just tell him Jim sent you."
All the guys just stood there slack jawed, "Are you sure about this?" Dale finally stammered.
"C'mon let's go, we've got to get these cars to Noble so you boys can run, and time is wasting!" Jim smiled.

Boone had the Belvedere on jack stands with the old cable removed, when Dale called to tell him they had a cable, and a place to use to install it. He pushed the trans lever into drive, dropped it on the ground, crossed over the solenoid to start it, and followed Rachael to Arkansas City. They met Darren on the outskirts of town, and he gave them the cable, while he grabbed all the gas jugs from Boone's trailer.

Rod Mills graciously worked his schedule around so that Dale pulled the Gremlin directly on the lift, and dropped the trans fluid straightaway.
"Dang it James. We should have bought oil, and done an oil change also!"
"What do you need", Rod offered, "I'll call in an order, and O'Reilly will bring it right out!"
Dale had everything done except the trans fluid when he heard Boone and Rachael coming up the drive, so he lowered the lift, and pushed the Gremlin out, so she could get the Belvedere in place. With the cable on, they were ready to roll, and Mr. Mills refused any compensation for the lift time. The Gremlin and the Belvedere headed off towards Ponca City, and the checkpoint, while Boone decided to take the Barnyard back to the station where the Dakota was left, and wait on Darren.

Wow those some nice people/hotrodders!!
They sure ran into the right person at the gas station.
Great story Billy!!!

Don

I had been clipping along with no issues until I started into traffic on the north side of OKC, by this time the sun was up, and the temp was rapidly rising, so once I started running behind other cars, the water temp gauge started to creep up above 210. The traffic was moving along at 45-55, but was pretty thick, after about six miles, the temp climbed above 230, so I hit the shoulder, to let it cool off. Andy Bashford drove by in his 69 Plum Crazy Charger, and gave me a toot of the horn, I gave him a thumbs up to let him know I was OK, and he waved as he continued on to the track.

Dale and Rachael pulled up to the mural on the Bumper to Bumper parts store wall, and shot their checkpoint pictures at 9:46 AM. They noticed immediately that the locals appeared to be using the gravel lot as a shortcut of sorts around some railroad track construction, so backing away from the cars to get a good picture was a bit risky!

Boone walked into the station where Darren's Dakota was parked, grabbed a drink, and some snacks. He glanced down on a newspaper rack at the Winfield Daily Courier newspaper, the front page read "Drag Week comes through Winfield", with a picture of a 70 El Camino on it.
"Wow, It's pretty bad when the newspaper is running the story the next day, and we are just getting here!" Boone thought to himself.
He decided to make a run to a Napa and grab some oil for oil changes later. The clerk went in the back, and managed to round up 9 quarts of Valvoline 50wt.
"That's all you have"?
"Yeah."
"How 'bout 60wt?"
"I think there are 6 back there..,"
"Ok, I'll take them."
The clerk started picking up the 50wt to return it.
"No, I want all of it...both!"
Darren showed up about fifteen minutes after Boone returned to the station, and they headed out towards Ponca City.

I pulled into Rudy's Country Store and BBQ, basically directly across from the OU campus, to cool the thing off once again, and grab a couple gallons of fuel. When the Volumax 250 Dominator fuel pump starts changing pitch on occasion, it's a pretty good indication that you are nearing the last of your tank, and it's much cooler than looking for a stupid red light on the dash! My phone rang as I stepped back in the car to make my last six miles to Thunder Valley Raceway Park.
"Dad, your stupid brother didn't get this new cable far enough from the header, and it burned up by the time I got here to the checkpoint!" It was Rachael, and she was nearly in tears by the sound of it.
"The rest of the drive is highway, just put it in Drive, and get here! I'll buy a new cable at the Pep Boy's Speed Shop trailer, but you have to get here in time so we can install it before your run! Who is there with you?"
"It's just Pops and I, we sent Dale and James on because we were afraid all of us were going to miss the deadline, and not get a pass. We are going to wait here for Boone and Darren!"
"OK, just tell them NOT to try and fix it, just put it in drive and GET HERE!" I fired the Valiant, stuck my phone in the passenger seat, and fought my way back into traffic leaving a Drag Week competitor in a third gen Camaro on the parking lot who was apparently struggling with overheating just as much as I was.

Rachael hung up the phone, and told Pops what I said. They sat there, in the shade of the mural wall for about five minutes when another Drag Week competitor entered the gravel parking lot, pulled ahead of them, and hastily jumped out to take a pic at the checkpoint. It was none other than five time champ Larry Larson in his new S-10 truck. Dad noted to Rachael how haggard and beat up Larry looked when he slowly, methodically folded himself back into the truck. He fired it up, and made his way towards the end of the building as he started a gentle arc of a U-turn in the gravel to head out back onto the course. A harried soccer mom came screaming around the blind corner of the building in a large SUV, undoubtedly late for something, and using the parking lot as a shortcut as Pops and Rachael had witnessed twenty times already. Larry locked up all four tires and slid about a foot and a half as the SUV swerved just enough to avoid his carbon fiber front clip by mere inches! He sat there for what seemed like minutes before the S-10 continued to the exit, and idled off in search of Thunder Valley.

I stopped at the Noble O'Reilly's, and picked up some trans fluid, I hadn't taken the time to find where it was leaking, but the driveshaft, floor pan, ladder bars, and rear end were in no danger of rusting any time soon! As I made my into Thunder Valley Raceway Park, I noticed all the Daily Driver cars were in the lanes, so I knew it was time to switch sessions from the class cars to them, so I wasn't going to be able to run until the open session at Noon. That actually relaxed me a bit, since I didn't have to rush around to get the car ready. I chose a pit spot close to the Falcon wagon that I was apparently very close to for fourth in my class, as I had no idea where Robert and John were pitted.
I backed in, shut off the car, and slowly started to unload the trunk. John Sr. walked up and started helping me , "Well, one of you made it, where's the rest of the clan?"
"Scattered between here and Ponca City, I suppose", I smiled, "it's going to be close for a few of them!"

John was doing his burn out, and staging the 67 Valiant for his first run down Thunder Valley Raceway Park, when Darren and Boone pulled into checkpoint 1 to re-unite with Pops and Rachael. He ran 11.255-117.32, while they were snapping pictures, with 130 miles left to travel.

John Sr. jumped down beside the car on the blanket I had tossed out, and removed the pipes for me, while I pulled off the air cleaner, and continued removing all my junk from the interior of the Valiant. It was 10:30 AM, three hours and forty minutes until the lanes were closed!