Where the Wild Things AreHere's where things get weird. Not a bad weird, but an awfully good, funky kind of weird. With Isabel in town, there really wasn't much more you could do that night except storm our party for a couple hundred giveaways and more opportunities to hassle those same girls who wouldn't give us any play. Take in a few sips of Juicy Juice and suddenly the party turns from Sausagefest 2003 into Super-Mondo-Sausagefest 2003, complete with rap freestyling and glow stick showdowns. Nads and Jonny dominated both the Juicy Juice chug-a-lug and girlie push-up contests. We'd like to delve more into the late night festivities, but that's better left in our memories and at the Greensboro Waffle House across the street from the hotel. If you were there, remember Jonny's word of the Tour:vicarious.
Day Two: Clear Skies All the WayThe rough night was followed by an even rougher morning. The Ghost of Waffle House Past punched us really hard in the gut, leaving us with that not-so-pleasant feeling. Once again, we only slept for a little over an hour. We had expected a complete downpour, but luck was on our side for once because the hurricane left as quickly as it came. Now we had the sun in all its glory and not a single hint of moisture-things were looking especially good. By now our group had quadrupled, filling up the entire Four Seasons hotel parking lot, which equates to roughly 400 cars. As we jettisoned back onto the road, we took full advantage of our lovely photo cars, firing away at as many Tour vehicles as we could when something unexpected came about. Yeearnhardt sped past a state trooper at an abnormally high rate (please, kids, do as we say, not as we do) and got pulled over in a heartbeat. Just to clear the air, Derrick "Requesting permission for a fly by" Yee wasn't going that fast, 85, maybe 88 mph tops, but Barney Fife thought otherwise. Had we kept it under 80, Deputy Dawg probably would've let us go with a slap on the butt. But no, we had to slap our own butts-er, yeah. So we followed Derrick, who was cuffed by the way, back to Mayberry RFD, where he was tried, acquitted, and set free by the magistrate, court clerk, and secretary-all one person, mind you. It's a good thing he had $100 on him. Otherwise, he'd probably still be sitting on Bubba's lap in CB4.
After that magical experience, we met up with the rest of the crew at GMP Performance where swarms of Tour nuts filled all the lots and spilled into the streets, causing headaches for those not in the know. Thankfully, everyone played extremely nice and we caught a slight breather before it was time to make the final drive to NOPI. Jonny owes a huge heartfelt thank you to Steven Klitzsch of GMP. Had it not been for him, Jonny would still be stuck trying to access the roof thanks to his balloon of a noggin and the inability to push all 270 pounds of his self upward.
Now, we would tell you what the rest of the drive was like ... but we fell asleep.
Thanks, Matt!It is only right to lead the north leg with a little style, which is why we called Matt Pearson. Yeah, we know, The Emp is the last person who knows anything about style, but he does work for Acura, which means he has access to a grip of great cars. Matt must have blocked out his memories of The Tour because he was foolish enough to loan us a sexy new TSX (see New Car Joy Ride, May '03).
The TSX served as a stellar lead car; the chassis was rock solid even as Isabel did her best to blow us (uh, to clarify, Isabel was the hurricane). Robleto said it was a dream to drive and Nads reported that it was a dream to nap in the passenger seat. The Acura Navigation System kept us precisely on course, allowing us to bypass the Passport's vague and misleading directions (Thanks, Peske!-Staff).