When heading out to my first ever Super Lap Battle event I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Would my Civic make it to Buttonwillow and back without blowing up? Would the Motel 6 live up to all of its horror stories? Was the Cusco car really as fast as it was rumored to be? I had no idea when leaving LA that the SLB finals would be far beyond what my imagination had conjured.
As my little stock Civic did all it could to keep up with JDMWong in his loaner 350Z the miles went by. When we had finally arrived at the dilapidated Motel 6, I realized that when Jon told me the place came with "courtesy fly swatters" he might not have been joking. Little did Jon and Terence know they were in for a big surprise at check-in. The only rooms left, they were told, were single bed units. It became apparent that there was another blunder made by whichever Source Interlink employee scheduled the room. As soon as I had feeling in my cheeks again from all the laughter, I realized that the same was probably true for our room, which was to contain Charles, my lovely girlfriend Veronica who decided to stick it out and see what Super Lap was all about and myself.
After Jon and Terence pulled away in the red Z, Charles approached the check-in counter and began working his magic. With his boyish good looks and the charm of his Chilean chullo-knit cap, he began working himself into the good graces of the 50-something year old woman on the other side of the glass. Although I'm not sure what promises were made, we left with keys to a two-bed room and immediately informed the others of our good fortune. After a brief initial inspection the room didn't seem as bad as I expected. This was not entirely accurate. Once we really looked around the following was found: turd skids in the toilet, crazy god-knows-what stains in the bathtub, tap water that was slimy as hell, Charles' bed contained blood stains and an unidentified white crusty puddle on the comforter among other things yet to be found. To put it briefly, Charles got the shitend of the stick.
After unpacking, in our newly grossed-out state, we prepared to go out to dinner. A BBQ joint all the way on the other side of town, about a half mile, was supposed to be the happening spot. Once the doors were open there were lots of familiar faces, and some not so familiar, packing the place to capacity. The roaring voices of the restaurant would set the tone for the event. Camaraderie filled the air, second only to competitive impulses. Once everyone ate their fill we decided to head back to the motel and try to get a good night's sleep since we had to be at the track near the break of dawn. One quick detour to purchase a blanket at a truck stop and we were off to the motel.
Now I realize that buying a blanket just to avoid touching the motel sheets might seem a bit extreme, but that's only because you haven't been to this motel. As Charles readied his bed for sleep he had to have wished he picked up a blanket himself. "Dude...my bed is so gross" he chuckled. "I'm contemplating sleeping with my shoes on!" I was laughing, in horror, so hard I could barely breathe. Chuck then decided to attempt to possibly clean up his bed a little. While amidst the cleansing Charles sighed "Aww... there are a lot of pubic...hair, right there." Upon closer inspection he verified, "It's curly...and white!" When Charlie was done dusting off his pubic congregation we turned on the television and watched "Extreme Loggers" until we couldn't stand it anymore.