MAKING HE DRIVE
I was so excited to meet up with the Four Horsemen, that I
said, “Damn the law, I’m punching the accelerator!!!” With Brent
Norquist at my side, we sped through the desert in my little blue
Saturn and talked about last year’s race, this year’s race, and
the price of tea in China. OK, actually, we skipped that last
part and just rambled about the good times we had the year prior
and how this year was going to be even better.
After last year’s bout with, er, let’s say, um … bowel
shyness, I was a bit skeptical about putting anything in
my system that I wasn’t sure would make a quick exit. I considered
a laxative but decided that caution was called for and resisted
the temptation, lest the opposite problem surfaced like a sub
cracking the surface of the sea and max speed. So we ate light
and kept going.
We were making great time and I had successfully broke every
speed limit between 29 Palms and Lone Pine by at least a dozen
miles per hour. As we got closer, I got bolder at the prospect
of seeing my friends. At about 10 miles from Lone Pine, I crested
a hill and there was Mr. Policeman coming from the opposite
side of the highway, slowing down to make the crossover turn.
Like every other human being on Earth, I hit the brakes and
sucked up half the material from my driver’s seat. Brent, being
the King of Lame Optimism, says “Maybe he didn’t see you.” Yeah,
and maybe I was 6 feet tall and full of muscles.
Do I have to tell you what came next? There is not much
in this world that feels as bad as seeing those flashing lights
and hearing that siren behind you. I was so close, only 10 miles!!!
The next retarded statement that came from Brent was “Maybe
he’ll just give you a warning.”
I responded “Maybe you should shut your suck!” Ok, I didn’t
say that but I was in no mood to be dealt with. I didn’t get
the warning, but a full-blown ticket.
What an auspicious start to the 2001 Wild Wild West Marathon.
It turned out a bit more expensive than I anticipated. Maybe
I deserved it for breaking the speed limit the whole way, you
say? Well, my response is “Maybe you should shut your suck!”
But I'm not bitter.
The drive to the race
Night before the race