Several people have aked about El Mirage, so here is a slice of what I saw with, as usual, some lagniappe. You MAY NOT scroll down to see how fast we went! You must read this whole thing first. It's the law! Pete took Thursday off and worked on the car while I spent Thursday evening in a den of iniquity shooting pool with people who were drinking beer and other alcoholic beverages, and saying bad words much of the time. At least I think they were bad words, how would a pure man like me know? At least they have to go outside to feed their lung cancer. I stopped smoking 35 years ago. I stop drinking two or three times a week. "We've got trouble right here in River City. Trouble with a capital T, and that ryhmes with P, and that stands for POOL"! (Renmember "The Music Man" ?). I play three nights a week in handicapped amature leagues. That doesn't mean a bunch of blind guys with one arm shooting pool from wheel chairs (although we do have a pretty good player who sometimes shoots from a chair. He was was in a bike crash and got crunched up a bit, but he's getting around better all the time, and usually without the chair). By handicapped, I mean that the better players must win more games per match than less talented souls like myself. That's in 8-ball. Now, in 9-ball it goes by how many balls you have to sink. I have to sink 25 balls. A really good player has to sink 75. The handicapping works quite well and I win a reasonable portion of my matches. So, what's that got to do with El mirage? NOTHING. It's part of the lagniappe I mentioned. Also on Thursday Pete says, "Houston, we've got a problem"! "Whatever could that be, says I ".? We'd overlooked the fact that the truck we were borrowing from our crew member Andy Bartfay did not have a 5th wheel ball in the bed to fit our enclosed trailer (Tom Dually had blown it's engine last August before we even reached Victorville on the way to Bonneville and we'd borrowed a tag-along flat trailer from Summers). So, Pete had to drive out to Callaway's and borrow George's truck. (Callaway lives on the very edge of El Mirage). 115 mile round trip. And, another 115 mile RT to get the car and trailer home again. We'd all been playing "musical trailers" all week between Andy, Brissette, Capt. Billy, Summers, and myself. Back at the bar, I was matched against a new guy who was started at a skill level one step above me (per the "rules"). He had to win 3 games to my 2. He was not that good. He wasn't even as good me, unless he was having a very bad night. I blew him away 2-0. At one point, I made a very good shot and heard people cheering and clapping. I figured I must be a hero until I looked up and saw they were all watching a basketball game on TV! Back to being humble! OK, back to El Mirage: (you didn't cheat and scroll down, did you? If so, something bad will happen to you. (Your children's breath will smell of camel dung). I woke up at the crack of dawn Friday, and Pete had run off with the car and trailer in the middle of the night. Upon reaching El Mirage, about 0900? We took the car through inspection and signed all the necessary papers to enter, including the one that resembles a check from my bank. By golly, it IS a check from my bank. We bought a season's pass that saves $50 if we run all six meets. A bit of a gamble, but we have a lot of confidence! Or maybe we are just foolhardy? Moving right along: Saturday: We were qualified to run in the 200 mph line since we'd run 222 last year (even though they'd taken our record away because of some pedantic body measurement rule infraction). My turn to drive. I only turned 218.5 SHIITE !! We needed 220. I beat myself up for not driving harder. Pete beat himslf up for setting the engine too rich. (It didn't clean out until about half course). There were a number of factors that could make for a slow run, including the fact that they started the meet much later than usual, which means we had warmer air which is thinner and makes for a rich mixture which makes you go slower. Many peole jumped on this excuse for a slow run. "A good excuse is a terrible thing to waste". We ate worms for lunch and caned each other repeatedly. Self flagilation is good for the soul when you go slow. (Notice that I did not say "self abuse", although .........well, never mind, it's an antiquated term anyhow). Sunday: Pete's turn to drive. He'd leaned the engine and it went better. He also "drove it like he stole it", which is what I should have done on Saturday! Thwack, thwack! Boy, that cane hurts! He turned 232 !! Now we could beat ourselves up for going too fast! Just one thwack with the cane since we got the record. We only ate one worm and allowed ouerselves some jam on it as well. How can you go too fast, you ask? Isn't that what it's all about? Going fast? Well, yes and no. There is a points championship that is determined by (you guessed it) points. Each record set gets you 25 extra points. The strategy is to just break the record by a small margin so it will be easier to break at the next meet. But, a record is a record nevertheless, and we are happy about that part. (Thwack, Thwack). Oh, the pedantic body measurments: I'd spent condsiderable time and effort putting in fasteners and standoffs to make the body conform to it's "original contour". Russ Eyers, the roadster committee chairman, had driven up from San Diego a couple of months ago to check my progress and answer questions. That's about a 4 hour drive (round trip). That effort was truly appreciated. Russ measured the body Saturday and wrote the positive results in the car's logbook for all to see. There was no questioning our record this time. I told the impound inspector that I'd brought along a tube of KY Jelly to aid in showing him the logbook roadster dimensions! We laughed! He is an old friend and knows I bear him no hard feelings (about causing me weeks of work on the car to be "legal"), but I retain the right to grumble for several years. Maybe forever? Other Stories: Good deeds are often rewarded! Russ Eyers ran a 228 (?) and was inducted into the "Dirty Two Club" (The El mirage 200 mph club). I went over to his pit area to admire his new maroon hat. Congratulations Russ! Bob Brissette and sons ran their new lakester at 203 mph which, although not a record, gets them into the 200 mph starting line next meet. He's struggling with various "new car gremlins", but did well anyhow. Leggitt - Lindsley had top time of the meet until Sunday afternoon when Rick Yacoucci did a sweet 252. One of the Ferguson's stirred up a lot of dirt and dust with a 177 mph flat spin in their classic coupe. I just happened to be watching when this happened. It was right after Rick did the 252. (Rick mentioned getting loose too). I see from the result sheet that Royce McClintic had the top speed for bikes at 199 mph. I didn't see Royce. He pits way down on the spectators line. Good on you Royce! There was a large group of people from Utah. Mary West, Ed and Chris Shearer, Glen Barrett, and Jim Burkdoll. My friends I met at Bonneville, Gary and Barb Nelson flew out from minnisota ! I heard today that Mike Cook's mother passed away last week. My condolences, Mike. Been there too. I also see that my early hero Leroy Neumeyer passed away Sunday. I'd called to talk to Leroy a few months ago and his wife said he was alseep. I talked to her a while and told her that Leroy was my hero from when I was 16 years old and saw that picture of him in the belly tank. She said Al Teague had told her the same thing. Leroy drove at Indy (I think). I know he was deeply involved there. Somebody told me he was the only guy who could tune the Novi engine to perform well. I asked him about that and he said "Well enough to scare myself half to death"! So, I guess he drove it too! I think George Callaway, Jim Travis and Louie Senter knew him well. They likely have a thousand stories about Leroy. I'd love to hear them! We will miss our old friend Frank Danielsen who passed away last week. We always pitted near Frank at Bonneville and enjoyed his company as well as that of lovely, bubbly daughter Leslie. I included some of Frank's stories in my Bonneville reports in the past. (i.e. taking the Milers to the Russetta (SCTA? ) banquet in a retired Metropolitan Transit bus and picking up passengers waiting at bus stops along the way). The big time nightclubs along the Hollywood strip refused to park their bus until they saw it was filled with about 30 guys dyin' for a drink! A veritable gold mine! They found a spot for the bus! Godspeed, Frank, Leroy, and Mrs Cook! See all y'all next meet! Kelley out.