The Gnu had a couple of rough spots — well marked in the route book, mind you — including a short concrete bridge after a turn. found a replacement in Texas. But wait — there’s more This isn’t just a whining post…
That’s 500 km to travel, and no more than $500 in the car to qualify. – The Saab 900 – best running car and fastest in the rally; –what is this car doing here? No checkpoints, just drive to the finish.
Veterans and Novices
Normally the previous year’s winners are assigned Car #1; running that spot is equal parts honor and duty. The honor should be obvious, pride of place wot wot. And there are benefits to running up front: you never have to wait in line for the pump at the gas stops; the locals that you see still have no idea that their road is hosting a mass migration of four-wheelers; the low, wet spots on the section aren’t chewed into mudholes; where there’s snowpack, it isn’t all shiny and slick; and there are no deep tracks in the snow leading off the road … yet. But there’s a price, too, for running out front. You’ll be the first to find the one really slippery corner, or the blown-down tree, or the nodding control crew. It’s like being point man on patrol. On balance, giving #1 to last year’s winners is probably a handicapping method, sort of like the NBA’s allocating the worst draft positions to the best performing teams. More evidence: The rallymaster calls it “The Curse Of Car #1”. Well, then, who won Totem 2008? Glenn Wallace & R. Dale Kraushaar did. In winning last year, those two zeroed the entire second day. If ever a handicap was called for… But we got to the Bear’s Claw, and #1 was not on their car; instead, they were carrying #2. Whaaa? Those guys are veterans, they know the drill — how’d they miss the duty? Pffft. Veterans? I’ll give you veterans. The team in the lead car included a man who first ran Totem in 1959. APPARENTLY, if you show up with a pedigree like that, they just bow and hand you the #1. This time, the award of first position is all about honor. Near the other end of the train, running #20, a novice team’s in a 4×4 pickup with 31″ tires. They’ve strapped down some big chunks of wood in the back… is that for weight? Or is there a bonfire later? I feel a mild sense of dread on their behalf, but I can’t think of a way to warn them without sounding like a jerk or a fuddy-duddy. As Glenn Wallace put it, ‘Nobody likes the “you’re doomed” speech.’ Same goes for the very pretty Golf, with its supercharger and roll cage; the car doesn’t seem quite right for where we’re headed. And finally, there’s a leviathan of steel, a sled so wide and so long and so heavy that calculations of its polar momentum outstrip our calculator’s registers: it’s the Rally de Ville.
It wasn't done yet.
(this is part 2 of the sacrificial skid plate story)
With ripped out mounting holes in the sub frame and a rally on the horizon, I knew I needed to get this problem addressed soon. Dave at Davesport had some time on his schedule so we agreed to get the work done.
Davesport is up in/near North Bend, new ultimate brake pads,
The low tire warning light’s cause wasn’t made clear ’til this morning, when the other rear tire was squoshy. Footnote: We boarded the plane 3 times (and disembarked 2 times) before finally taking off 7 hours after our flight was supposed to leave. We rolled into PDX at midnight.
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