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10:50 a.m. Departed Crickwood in the Passat
11:25 a.m. Second major Dale Earnhardt sighting of the day, a truck and trailer combination emblazoned with the legendary Richard Childress ‘3.’ This one, instead of having the ‘3’ sprouting angels’ wings, seems to have a phoenix bird rising from the ‘3.’ The message: Look for Dale opening for Elvis sometime soon in Kalamazoo. The first one was a Kenworth truck going the opposite direction with a huge ‘3’ covering the grille.
12:05 p.m. Lunch in Danville, Illinois at Schroeder’s Drive-In, which until about five years ago was one of the last Burger Chef restaurants in operation.
12:22 p.m. Another Earnhardt sighting of sorts. This one was on a GMC pickup in downtown Danville, with a pair of matching ‘3’ stickers on the rear window. On the tailgate was an additional sticker – this one said “3 things I hate – Hot Beer, Cold Women and Jeff Gordon.” The ‘3,’ naturally, was in the RCR font.
2:40 p.m. Another over-the-top Earnhardt display. Recently I’ve come to the conclusion that the two most glorified and deified racing drivers of all time are Dale Earnhardt and Ayrton Senna. Yet these are the drivers generally credited (or blamed) for bringing the dirty blocking tactics we accept as normal into their forms of the sport. What’s wrong with that picture?
7:56 p.m. Arrived at my destination for the day, the Oak Tree Inn in Marysville, Kansas. Drove 605 miles on the day and celebrated with breakfast for dinner at Penny’s Diner, where three staff members staged an impromptu play for me and the two or three other diners present. They certainly acted like they wanted the hell out of there, but where would they go?
THURSDAY, August 28
8:40 a.m. Looked out the window at the hotel’s back parking lot, I’ve rarely seen such a collection of crappy old cars outside of a junkyard. Here’s the list; I apologize because I’m sure a couple of the model years are wrong…
74 Mercury Cougar
76 Lincoln Towne Coupe
78 Oldsmobile 98
74 Cadillac Coupe de Ville
73 Dodge Coronet
77 Chevrolet Impala
79 Mercury Zephyr Z-7
72 Plymouth Fury III
79 Chrysler New Yorker
73 Ford Torino Wagon
76 Chrysler Cordoba
The nicest car in the lot (my Passat excepted) was a clean-looking ’89 BMW 325is. When I departed a few minutes later, I drove a lap of the full parking lot and popped a few frames of these shitboxes. Out front, the trend continued. There were a pair of Mopar station wagons, a Plymouth Volare and a K-car, quietly rusting away. A ’69 Chevy Chevelle Malibu was missing a headlight, a common trait in the Oak Tree Inn junkyard.
8:50 a.m. Driving through downtown Marysville, I spied a ’79 Ford LTD II wagon coming toward me in full camouflage paint. I avoided eye contact with the militia member behind the wheel. It also dawned on me that I might have found the capital of the least car-savvy state in the nation. “Maybe that’s where old cars go to die,” suggested Kathleen.
9:43 a.m. A nicely kitted-out new-generation Mini passes going the other way, and I swear it was Peter Egan driving it. What are the odds?
12:04 p.m. I pass Norcatur, Kansas, proclaimed as the home of Elden Auker. Who the hell is Elden Auker?
12:35 p.m. A mid-70s Oldsmobile Omega passes going the other direction. It appears to be in good shape for an old GM sled, but even in the rear-view mirror, I can see that the frame is misaligned like you often see on those Nova-based cars of that era. This Omega is tastefully capped off with a hand-painted ‘OMEGA’ banner across the top of the windshield.
1:25 p.m. I roll into St. Francis, Kansas, which a billboard proclaims “As Good As It Gets!” Doubtful, but then it’s probably nicer than Denver…
1:55 p.m. (actually 12:55 thanks to the time zone change) I cross into Colorado and think, “Oreo, you’re not in Kansas anymore!”
3:24 p.m. Fuel stop at a Shell station in Watkins, Colorado. The condom machine above the urinals offers the World Famous French Tickler – The Original Article, Not A Gimmick! Someone used a pen to scratch out ‘French’ to make it the Freedom Tickler, but I still resisted the urge to try one out.
4:18 p.m. After nearly getting collected in a multi-car crash after zooming over an overpass, I arrive at the Executive Tower Hotel after a 465-mile day of driving. Just in time to kick off another race weekend!