The following journal captures a weekend spent recapturing youth, defining independence and seeking success among peers is encapsulated herein.
Saturday
9:47 am - The gas guzzler is topped off with Turkey Hill's finest 87 octane. Both tanks are brimming. Hitched to the pick-up is an empty open trailer. The Suchy Racing sticker adorning both sides appear out-of-place. A barren space exists where a race car should be. Out of the station I pull north on Interstate 83, bound for the Poconos.
11:38 am - Once off three separate interstates and after 45 minutes of navigating back roads through remote towns, I arrived at my first destination: Xcel Chassis. Backing into the driveway is tricky. The short wheelbase on the trailer makes it very sensitive to small turns on the steering wheel. Three attempts later and the truck and trailer combo is sitting with the trailer ramps down facing the open garage door. Doug and his crew (father Gene and Amish Larry) are sitting inside. A relaxed yet somber air pervades the atmosphere. I can only guess that the mood is indicating an apprehension to spending the next four hours in a truck cab.
12:03 pm - I'm assigned Jeff Hazard's #31. Jeff is jet setting all over the Catskills for Hewlett Packard leaving his mount idle for the weekend. I can race it so long as I serve as the carrier to and from the track. We grunt the car up the ramps and strap down the two rear tires catching the mesh metal floor with the "S" hooks on the ratchet straps. Finally the last of the Kunkletownites arrives and the caravan departs for the Finger Lakes.
1:15 pm - While in route on that famous expanse of asphalt connecting both oceans, Doug's construction yellow enclosed trailer exits searching for diesel. So far my Ford has consumed 12 gallons, I might as well gas up. Shutting off the truck I insert my magnetic striped plastic. Again both tanks are topped off. Hop back into the cab, release the parking brake, depress the clutch and brake, I turn the key and my old faithful is struggling to spin the starter. Damn, there's too much heat and vapor in the engine for my aged battery to start. I pop the hood in preparation for a jump when Doug signals to try a pop the clutch start. I'm on a decline, so it seems plausible. Two guys put a little ass into it and twenty yards later I turn the key and dump the clutch. On command it fires and the caravan continues. Twenty minutes down the road I notice my hood is rattling, I never slammed it closed from the station! As it's vibrating left and right I envision the latch failing, releasing the hood causing it to snap backwards covering my windshield at 75 mph. I can barely keep up the group as my inline six banger is pumping out as much torque as it will muster. So for now I must endure this visual distraction.
Saturday
9:47 am - The gas guzzler is topped off with Turkey Hill's finest 87 octane. Both tanks are brimming. Hitched to the pick-up is an empty open trailer. The Suchy Racing sticker adorning both sides appear out-of-place. A barren space exists where a race car should be. Out of the station I pull north on Interstate 83, bound for the Poconos.
11:38 am - Once off three separate interstates and after 45 minutes of navigating back roads through remote towns, I arrived at my first destination: Xcel Chassis. Backing into the driveway is tricky. The short wheelbase on the trailer makes it very sensitive to small turns on the steering wheel. Three attempts later and the truck and trailer combo is sitting with the trailer ramps down facing the open garage door. Doug and his crew (father Gene and Amish Larry) are sitting inside. A relaxed yet somber air pervades the atmosphere. I can only guess that the mood is indicating an apprehension to spending the next four hours in a truck cab.
12:03 pm - I'm assigned Jeff Hazard's #31. Jeff is jet setting all over the Catskills for Hewlett Packard leaving his mount idle for the weekend. I can race it so long as I serve as the carrier to and from the track. We grunt the car up the ramps and strap down the two rear tires catching the mesh metal floor with the "S" hooks on the ratchet straps. Finally the last of the Kunkletownites arrives and the caravan departs for the Finger Lakes.
1:15 pm - While in route on that famous expanse of asphalt connecting both oceans, Doug's construction yellow enclosed trailer exits searching for diesel. So far my Ford has consumed 12 gallons, I might as well gas up. Shutting off the truck I insert my magnetic striped plastic. Again both tanks are topped off. Hop back into the cab, release the parking brake, depress the clutch and brake, I turn the key and my old faithful is struggling to spin the starter. Damn, there's too much heat and vapor in the engine for my aged battery to start. I pop the hood in preparation for a jump when Doug signals to try a pop the clutch start. I'm on a decline, so it seems plausible. Two guys put a little ass into it and twenty yards later I turn the key and dump the clutch. On command it fires and the caravan continues. Twenty minutes down the road I notice my hood is rattling, I never slammed it closed from the station! As it's vibrating left and right I envision the latch failing, releasing the hood causing it to snap backwards covering my windshield at 75 mph. I can barely keep up the group as my inline six banger is pumping out as much torque as it will muster. So for now I must endure this visual distraction.
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