Why were you running so late out of Union Grove, Tony? I didn't think you did the second trans repair until the next day at Cordova...

We left union grove around 3, headed out after waiting for clay to get a decent pass. Made it about 30 miles out and started getting a little vibration, made it to around mile 50 out and stopped to get fuel and a spare fan belt as it pitched on every pass. Left the O'Reilly and made it to the advance auto parts at the turn off and it lost all but 1st and reverse. Went to see if there were any Trans shops open and too late, so decision was made to yank it right there in the parking lot. We started about 6 and had it out, guts swapped from the broken case Trans to the current slipping Trans and back in by 9, left about 9.30 after eating some pizza one of the guys bought,he had the El Camino. Jesse stayed and helped me with it.we made it to Cordova around 1am, earliest all week.

Darren led our pack out of the station, with Dale and James behind him in the Gremlin, the Belvedere next, then John and Opal's Valiant. I pulled out behind them, then Boone and Pops were once again the caboose in the Barnyard Viper.
We rolled along WI-11W effortlessly, until we made the left for Interstate 43 South, as soon as we jumped on the divided four lane, Rachael decided to blow around Dale and Darren, and take the lead.
"What the heck is she doing", was my first thought. All she had to do was follow along and let Darren lead us, "it's late, everyone is tired, and there is no need for this!" I reached for my phone, but decided against it.

Thirty-two miles later, as the route took us off the four lane and into the town of Beloit, Darren, along with Dale and John, pulled into the first station we came to on the right. Rachael, of course was a quarter-mile ahead of them by that time, and kept going, I decided to follow her, as I watched Boone pull in with everyone else. This time I did reach for my phone.
"Everyone else stopped at that station to the right", I informed her.
"Well screw my life! Why didn't they call me?" she shouted into the phone, along with a few other expletives.
"Why the heck did you think you needed to lead?" I shot back, feeling the anger beginning to rise.
"You told me to keep the air clean coming into the radiator, and they were all bunched up", she retorted.
"It's fifty degrees tonight, you don't need to worry about the car getting hot! Now slow down, and just cruise along until they catch up", I hung up.

We worked our way though Beloit Wisconsin, driving stoplight to stoplight through downtown, crossing the Rock River twice. I could imagine it was a good test for those who hit this during the day, but it was a traffic free ghost town for us. It seemed as I followed Rachael through town that the tail lights on the Belvedere were dimmer than usual, but I chalked it up to my tired eyes and the inconsistent city lighting. We crossed into Illinois on Highway 2 south, which seemed to follow along the river we had crossed in town, and made our way through Rockton. As soon as we were out of town, I found myself pushing the small block to 3200 rpm just to keep up with her on the narrow rural two lane. I reached for my phone again.
"Which part of slow the hell down did you not understand the first time!" I yelled into the phone when she answered.
"I'm running the speed limit", she retorted, indignant.
"The heck you are! Whatever that speedometer says, back it down ten, no, fifteen mph, and let's try that for awhile", I shouted.
"Also, you should consider pulling over and getting Skippy to check your alternator plug, the lights are dimming and I don't think it's charging".
"My dash lights are fine!" she exclaimed, and hung up on me, but she did back off the speed as instructed.

That was interesting run through the downtown area. We were bunched up with Randy's Barracuda and his Wife's Camaro through that area. It was just enough stop and go in the middle of the day to make me keep an eye on the temp.

The road from GLD back to Cordova was where I lost my wedding at DW 07.Wife wasn't even upset as she knew if I had done something wrong Vicki Crow would have handled it.She keeps a lot of DragWeekers from mis behaving very much.LOL

A few miles later, we entered Rockford Illinois, and the route sheet simply told us to follow 2 South signs through town. They didn't explain that Il-2 South was under construction, with lanes closed and detours all the way across the city.
I kept waiting for Rachael to pull over, and allow Skip to take a look under the hood, but it never happened. When we finally cleared the overhead lighting of civilization, and were once again driving through the dark countryside on a shoulderless, narrow ribbon of asphalt, it was blatantly obvious to me that the battery in the Belvedere was on it's last leg. If she was more than a few hundred feet ahead of me, the taillights would completely disappear, the glow from Skippy's cell phone was brighter!

Now, I need to take a few minutes to shed light on a few things about me that may (or may not), explain my actions over the next thirty or so minutes. My Dad grew up in a hardscrabble lead and zinc mining town, shortly after WW2. His legendary temper, and willingness to deal with conflict physically served him well in those formative years...later in life, not so much. As the oldest of four boys, I spent my formative years tasked with the job of peacekeeper, and disciplinarian any time Mom and Dad were away, unfortunately, Boone and Darren share Dad's disposition, and lack of control, so my job was never an easy one. As such I've developed a healthy disdain for the inability to control rage and anger. At the very least, I consider it a weakness, at the most, a character flaw. I hate the behavior, not the person, and I hate it most when I'm the person!

I picked the phone up once again, seething as we approached another small town, Skippy answered Rachael's phone, and it took all my effort to control my tone, "Tell her to pull into the first big parking lot we come to on the right, and to leave the car running!"
After a short pause, he answered, "OK", and hung up.
It was a grocery store. She pulled in, and stopped parallel with the road. I pulled up on her side of the car, and shut the Valiant off. I was yelling before I could even get around the front of my car to approach the Belvedere, I stopped short of her door by ten feet in an effort to control myself, "Both of you get the hell out of the car right now", I screamed.
Skippy complied immediately, his eyes as big as saucers. Rachael sat in the car, both hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead.
"Is it in park?"
"Yes!" She turned to glare at me. Every inch, her Mother's child.
"Then get the <expletive> out of the car and look at these dang headlights!"
As she opened the door, I turned to Skip, "Get that hood up, and plug the alternator back in!"
She walked around the door, and peered at the orange orb, who's light only spilled out four or five feet in front of the bumper, and said "I could see just fine!"
Skip was struggling to hold the hood, and fumble with the plug at the same time, so she grabbed the hood for him, using that action to turn away from me.
"The heck you could! Don't give me that crap! You guys need to learn to pay attention to the car, not your darn cell phones!" My throat was already getting raw, as every word I shouted was at max volume, "Did he get it fixed?"
Skippy had stepped back from the car, and was nodding his head affirmative, but still hadn't spoke.
"I don't know!" Rachael responded, turning to face me again.
"Look at the DANG HEADLIGHTS!" I crouched forward, pointing, "They are reaching across the parking lot now, pay ATTENTION!"
Skip shut the hood, and returned to the passenger seat of the car, his jaw had hung slack throughout the entire ordeal, with nary a word...perhaps I had underestimated him, but I was beyond cognitive reckoning at that point.
"Drive to the checkpoint, but whatever you do, don't shut it off when we get there...it's going to take the rest of the drive to charge that battery back up", I growled, then spun on my heels to return to the Valiant.

I followed her out of the parking lot and back onto the road, trying to gather myself and reign in the frustration that was flooding over me, as a result of my outburst. Unfortunately, we arrived at the checkpoint a scant two miles later, which didn't allow me any time to recover. We pulled into the drive-in, and positioned our cars in an attempt to get a picture with the 57 Chevy delivery elevated on a pole. Skip jumped out and shot a few pics, while Rachael sat stoically in the driver's seat, making no effort to look my way.

To make matters worse, the rest of our crew rolled into the checkpoint a few minutes later.

I pretty much hate myself when I lose my cool too.

Sometimes our own kids won't listen to us even after they know wiser people than them do listen and follow our advice. On my kids and grandkids when advice fails instruction follow shortly there after, if I still feel like helping them anymore
Some kids have to learn the heard way, like we did

Since I'm usually a jovial, happy person, when I'm upset it's difficult to hide, and most people, even casual co-workers, notice almost immediately.
With Family it's impossible.
"What's going on?" Boone asked, nearly as soon as he exited the truck, "You look ticked!"
"Rachael and Skip. They've got their heads stuck in their phones, the clouds, everything except paying attention to the car, and where we are going!"
"Got it", he quickly changed the subject, "You see all those Drag Week cars across the street at the Casey's?"
I hadn't, so I peered over and noticed four of them, "Scott Brown, in his 53 Chevy", I commented.
"And three Fox Bodies", Boone added, "wonder why he's hanging with them?"
"Yeah, a Mustang, a Marquis wagon, and a Fairmont...If memory serves me Boone, I believe all four of those are LS powered!"
"Well, if you're right, that would explain why they are running late...no way a pack of four LS cars can travel together without breaking one!"
Still, I found it was odd that we had left the track hours after everyone else, and were already finding others still out on the road. About that time, I heard the Belvedere shut off, and any chance of me retaining composure went away. I ran to the car and yelled.
"What the heck are you doing now?"
Rachael didn't answer, she simply tossed her hands up.
"Man, Back off!" James stepped between me, and the door of the Belvedere, "I told her to shut it off because I needed the keys to get in the trunk for a can of Bars Leaks we bought earlier! The Gremlin is losing water somewhere."
"Your idea huh? Fine! YOU can babysit her the rest of the way to Cordova!"

With that outburst, I spun on my heels, headed straight for the Valiant, fired it up, and headed back onto the route without another exchange with anybody. I cleared Byron fairly quick, and found myself driving through the tranquil, moonlit, Illinois countryside with only the sound of the 428 to accompany me. I felt like a character in a Snickers commercial; frustrated, embarrassed, dissapointed, and still trying to reconcile why had responded in that fashion. I expected my phone to ring, but it didn't...I picked it up, and checked the time: 1:00AM, and still seventy miles of back roads to go.

The route sheet showed a turn in the town of Forreston at 92 miles, and the next mention of a town was Mt. Carroll at 118 in, so I began to plot my next fuel stop. The Valiant features a Summit brand aluminum fuel cell advertised as a 15 gallon unit, but in all the time I've owned the car 13.1 is the most it will hold. I usually average between 10.5 and 12.5 observed MPG on Drag Week, so I should have an effective range over 130 miles, but I feel much more comfortable trying to stop every 100 for a little cushion. Forreston had a Mobile station in the heart of the little town, but it was roped off because they had just re-sealed the entire asphalt parking lot. Five miles later, I entered the even smaller town of Shannon, and was surprised to find a Casey's Country Store open, and functional. They don't carry 91 as a rule, so 89 would have to do. I was even more surprised to pull in, and find Tom Bailey and the Sick Seconds 2.0 Pro-Mod Camaro sitting at the pump.
"You guys doing OK?" I asked, as I crawled out of the Valiant.
"Yeah, pretty good...you?" Tom smiled, but it was clearly forced, both he and his trunk monkey looked worn completely out.
"Hanging in there!" I shot back with a smile, likely seen as forced as his, and stumbled off towards the store. By the time I poured a 24oz coffee and paid for my fuel, they were rumbling off into the early morning darkness, and I didn't see them the rest of the trip to Cordova.

The next hour on the road was pretty calm, and I soon found myself on IL-84 cruising next to the Mississippi River. As I drove through Clinton, where a large number of Drag Weekers were already in their motels, and where John and Opal would be stopping, I shook my head. I have this innate skill or just dumb luck, that I always end up booking our rooms on the opposite side of the track from the way we are approaching, so we were going to drive past the track by fifteen or so miles, to LeClaire Iowa on I-80.

I entered the motel parking lot at around 2:30AM, and found myself confused by the Comfort Inn sign, when I was booked at Super 8 under the same address. I finally figured out that the entities actually shared the same building, With Comfort Inn in the main building, and the Super 8 was an adjoining building at a right angle to the first.

I walked up to the clerk behind the desk, and explained, "I have two rooms."
I was expecting her to ask for my name, but in a gruff voice she replied, "Ha, you want two rooms, not likely tonight".
I looked at her sternly, allowing her time to meet my gaze. She was a squat, round, frumpy woman with natural grey hair combed straight down, parted in the middle. I was taken aback when I realized that while her hair was far more salt, than pepper, the sparse mustache hairs scattered across her wrinkled upper lip, retained all of their youthful dark color.
"I HAVE two rooms! Prepaid." I emphasized.
"Uh, OK, let me look that up for you!" She sprang into action, and in a short time handed me two cards, and the room numbers. While not exactly personable, she certainly wasn't incompetent.

I walked down the hall a short distance, sat my bag down and stuck the card in the first door. It beeped, the light went green. I opened the door about halfway, and was one step in, reaching for the light when I noticed a large pair of bare feet sticking out of the covers on the bed nearest the door. The next sight was a tall redhead in his forties sitting up in bed, looking at the open door and managing a startled, "Hey"!
"Sorry Man, they gave me the wrong room", I uttered as I took a step back, and shut the door.
The next room was indeed empty, so I dropped my stuff inside, washed my face, and walked back down the hall to confront the clerk. I handed her the key, and explained the situation.
"Dang idiots at central booking! Can't do anything right! That room was supposed to be empty!" I was beginning to figure out that her gruff, direct dialogue was merely a self defense mechanism, but I was undeterred.
"I still need a second room", I pressed.
"Well at least we got you one", she kept her attention on the monitor in front of her.
"That's not going to make the other seven people in my party very happy, I can assure you!"
She looked up, almost startled, "Why would you put eight people in one room?"
"I wouldn't! That's why I PREPAID for two rooms!"

That whole area is confusing.

I did the same thing Billy, went in to the comfort inn side and said I need my room, and same mustachio lady says oh, go to the super 8 side. I didnt know there was one. Headed over and and nobody in there, a few seconds later and she shows up lol, can I help you? I just had to smile, my whole night was like bizzaro world. While I was working on the car I told my buddy Clay to just head on out and make it to le claire because he was in 2nd place in his car and I didnt want to ruin his chances by hanging out with me in case the trans didnt make it. I had him make sure my room was good to go although I dont think it made any difference.

Great job on the story, Billy. I always look forward to the next installment.

I just talked to my buddy Clay Forrester, he said it was his room you busted into, I said "hey didnt something happen in your room that night", "he says I vaguely remember something like that, I think Glen saw him" "hell I dont remember, by that time the whole week was getting very blurry.

Before we were married, my current wife had a guy come into her motel room while she was in the shower. He had a key, too. She ran him out of there. When she is in a certain mood, there is no way I would cross her either and we have been married 33 years.

I heard a barely muffled machine pulling into the parking lot, as the clerk stared at her computer monitor, while tapping the keys on her board, presumably trying to conjure up another room.
I stepped out of the lobby door, expecting to see one of my brothers coming around the corner; instead it was Daryl Yost's Pro-charged Chevelle. He pulled just past the lobby entrance and shut it off, as I held the door open for him to enter.
"My brothers said you were getting a driveshaft made in Kenosha when they were having their cylinder head repaired! So why are you just now rolling in?"
"Oh good grief", He laughed, "We installed the new shaft, and prepared to head out, only to find it vibrated just as bad as it did with the damaged one! Turns out the chrome-moly 1350 yoke on the rear end was bent as well. Finally, we located a shop in Union Grove called SRT that claimed to have one, and we limped over there to get it."
"That place was insane", he shook his head, "Lots of toys, 4 wheelers, snowmobiles, every kind of race car you could think of, so they got me fixed up and we finally got away from there!"
"So Mike made it okay in the Pontiac", I questioned, referencing his "odd couple" traveling partner.
"Oh, yeah...but he had the good sense to get a motel on the other side of the track!" he laughed again, still pretty lighthearted after a long day.
He picked up his room key, and entered the room just down the hall from the one I had, only long enough to toss his bag inside, then he came back to the desk and asked the clerk for a luggage cart. That struck me as a strange request, but she produced one from a back room, and he wheeled it out the door. Five minutes later, he came back in with his slicks stacked on the cart and headed for his room. He had been carrying them strapped to a hitch receiver rack behind the back bumper of his Chevelle, but obviously didn't like the idea of leaving them on it overnight. When he brought the cart back, we resumed our conversation, and I explained my current situation to him.
"Hey, if they don't find you a second room", he offered, "I'm by myself in a two bed room, so a couple of your crew can bunk in there if need be!"
I assured him that I wouldn't hesitate to knock on his door if it came to that, and he sauntered off in the direction of his room. After a couple of steps, he half-turned, and with a big smile, commented:"Ya know, I've dreamed of doing Drag Week for quite a while, and this has been great, but an eleven hundred dollar day can suck that enthusiasm right out of you!"
"Get some rest buddy! I promise it will be better tomorrow", I told him, as he headed off in the opposite direction.

Ten minutes later, all the Gebhart crew rolled in, and the clerk really started feeling the pressure. She finally asked if we knew Jesse Madafari, of all things.
"Of course we do, he's one of the guys doing drag week with us", I offered.
"Well, the last time he called, asking about his reservation, he was still an hour out", she looked at us dourly, "so I'm going to put you in that room, and we'll have to find him something on the other side."
I wasn't surprised that Jesse and his grandson were still out on the road, because he refuses to leave anyone behind, exactly the kind of guy who revels in helping out during a roadside thrash! I wasn't about to argue with her though, so we accepted the keys, and started loading in our gear into the two rooms. James pulled me aside on one of our trips, to explain something to me.
"You know...Rachael didn't shut the Belvedere off at the checkpoint, even though I asked her to..."
"What do you mean", I cut him off, "I heard the car quit running, then she handed you the keys!"
The anger was gone, I wasn't arguing with him, but I knew exactly what I saw and heard that set me off back there.
He put his hands up, fingers splayed, palms towards me, as if to hold me back, "Seriously, it just died...and then after you left, we jumped it, and it wouldn't start! Finally we figured out that it was out of gas, and we had to push it across the street to the station!"
"Out of gas", I stared at him, hands on hips, "We had only driven seventy-five miles, how the heck was it out of gas?"
"Remember when you scolded her for buying the expensive gas at our first stop? She stopped pumping as soon as you said something about it, and shut off the pump!" He shook his head, "She's all out of sorts, you really had her upset!"
"James...she's twenty-six, not seventeen! I expect to pay attention to her surroundings!"
"Well" he blushed, shaking his head, "My girls haven't hit puberty yet, so I haven't got the experience you do...but I think having her boyfriend on this trip was a bad idea!"
"That's something we can agree on for sure", I smiled, "did the Gremlin quit drinking water?"
"I think the bars-leak did the trick", he surmised,"guess we'll find out for sure tomorrow when she's under a strain!"

When I entered the room, Rachael and Skippy were showering, and Boone looked as though he was waiting his turn. I changed to my shorts, and crawled in bed without any further discussion. I was unconscious in a matter of seconds.

BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP bump
The unknown sounds in the night while waiting patiently on the "REST of the Story" as the late great Paul Harvey would say.
Sorry Billy Could not resist.
Jerry

Breakfast is just the not the same without a update!!

Think Billy is in Bakersfield attending the March Meet, believe drag racing is holding up the story telling, guess he has his priorities, lol