Lexington,
(Eastern) Kentucky to Olsmar, (North) Florida
as told by Rharfo
As the Equinics hour drew near excitement
and anticipation spread throughout the CR Racers Residency. It
was the group's first Equinics participation and everyone wanted it to
be special. It was decided that all fourteen members would join
together and travel the Olympic Trail.
The New Zealand
crew, Donna Coker and the kiwi brothers Inzy and Rharfo, who by the
way, we understand arm-wrestled to see who would get to sit with Coker,
boarded a plane for their first trip to the United States. The
match was a standoff and many believe they would still be arm wrestling
had Donna not explain to them that they could sit on either side of
her. They then proceeded to wrestle over the window seat! Donna just
shook her head in disbelief.
The European
connection of Lostorf and Madhibby decided to meet at connecting
flights in Europe and fly in together so that the Colorado native
Lostorf could give Madhibby a brief orientation of the U.S. Truth
is, the group was afraid to let Hibby wander around on his own in the
states. It was reported that Lostorf was seen counting a large
sum of money after selling the Scotsman the Brooklyn Bridge.
The American
contingency decided to meet in Las Vegas prior to meeting up with the
rest of the crew in Eastern Kentucky. Irish and Trotter flew in
together from Kennedy Airport while Sandy, the Martha Stewart of the
residency, managed to get time off for good behavior and extremely poor
taste. She arrived in a red Jag and proceeded directly to the one armed
bandits. Ads made his way from Minnesota and immediately headed toward
the horse-betting parlor. Screams of "stop the race" could be
heard from neighboring casinos. Winter lost an entire day waiting
for her pumpkin to turn into a coach and eventually hitched a ride in a
low rider, showing up in a stunning leather vest and sporting an "I
Love Bikies" rub on tattoo. "Oye allí, Vato Locos!" she
greeted them in street spanglish. Irish wondered which of the crew men
she was calling crazy.
Nawbo arrived in
Vegas via a longhorn and quickly started sketching the historic
event. You can view these sketches on the Internet with the use
of an adult check password. Gove decided to rent Waki Warrior for
the ride to Vegas and the breeding farm had no problem with that since
the stallion hadn't covered a mare in months. As suspected, it
was a slow ride on old WW and Gove decided to go directly to EK and
skip the Vegas gathering. Arriving from Canada with golf clubs in hand,
anxious to play in the Nevada desert, was the crew's newest member,
Balata. He was keen to take on the challenge put forth by
Tuffguy, who made the overnight trip across the desert from California.
Turns out Balata forfeited the match. Seems his putter is too short for
golfing in the U.S ... I understand now why the Maple Leaf is so
symbolic in Canada.
The U.S. gang made
the most of their brief stay in Vegas: Ads tearing up tickets, Sandee
being pried away from the slot machines, Balata going through all that
spam mail in hopes of finding the secret to a longer putter, while
Trotter and Irish managed to sneak away to see Nevada's contribution to
the seven wonders of the world - The World Famous Chicken Ranch ... fer
... umm, er ... for some pleasant conversation.
All managed to
arrive at the airport on time for the flight to Kentucky with Irish
cutting it close after having to make a stop at the local Rx, but not
to worry, the doc said he would be fine as long as he finished his
prescription of penicillin. A little short of breath, Irish slipped
into his 1st Class Seat and flipped Trotter the bottle of pills. "Here
buddy, I told ya they had all night pharmacies in Vegas. You better
take two of these. Ya never know what you can catch from talking to a
girl nowadays." The engines roared and kindly drowned out Sandee
telling everyon all the horrible things you can catch from a dirty
toilet seat!
Arrival in Eastern
Kentucky went quite smoothly despite a slight delay, as Donna and
Rharfo had a hard time passing Inzy through customs, but eventually the
CR was together as a group for the first time. After a session of hand
shaking and greeting hugs, followed by another round of hugs for Donna
by the male folk and then another round for good measure, the crew
settled down for a quiet drinkie or twelve, and set out to start to get
to know each other in a non-cyberly manner. Oddly enough, everyone was
writing down their conversations with one another and passing notes
around. That ended quickly though when Irish delivered an expletive
about "@$%* this!" and the silence was then broken. The bonding began
in earnest and the crew chatted merrily till the time came to start the
march.
Gove was the only
absentee from the crew at this stage of the journey and with time being
tight, a message was left at airport reception for him.
Dear
Gove, where are you man? Can't wait, must go. See ya at the hand over,
matey.
Hugs
and kisses!
Trotter
P.S
Donna IS hot! See you there!
(Funny how Trotter
lost his five decade old Long Island accent by watching MadMax Beyond
Thunderdome thirty times the
week before and was now calling everyone Mate!)
After sharing a
drink with the Kentucky Horsemen and then taking the Flame from them
(and cleaning all the fried chicken greasy fingerprints off the
handle), they bid the KY Horsemen crew farewell and set off on their
mission.
As usual the crew
got off to a slow start, as they couldn't agree in which direction to
go. I knew we were in trouble when we didn't see any Yellow Brick
road. Inzy approached a scarecrow in a cornfield for directions
and returned mumbling something about "Cheeky bugger, that mate in the
cornfield was." We didn't have the heart to tell him scarecrows
don't talk. Fortunately the day started off sunny, but the winds
picked up as the day progressed. The crew was quite relieved at that
point that Madhibby had decided against wearing his kilt.
Feeling full of
energy, the crew decided it would run the trail in the true spirit of
the Olympics with Lostorf leading the way. After about 300 yards,
the pace came to a crawl and the Flame was passed to Donna.
Things seemed to slow down even more at that point. Seems the
guys couldn't keep up with Donna and trailed behind her at that point
of the journey. Funny that.
Funnier still was
that the men fought through the pain and cramps and each had a smile
from ear to ear. The mood soon changed when Winter and Sandee grabbed
the group's CR Racers banner and ran up behind Coker holding the
outstretched banner behind the torchbearer, blocking Miss November from
the sight of the glassy-eyed males following.
After about an hour
of running, it was decided "To hell with the Olympic spirit! Let's hop
a bus and finish this journey already!" As the crew boarded the
Greyhound, the bus driver exclaimed, "No flames allowed on the bus!"
Trotter was highly insulted by this until the crew explained to him
that the driver was talking about the Equinics Flame. Inzy was more
offended as he had left his matches and lighter at the airport and had
been using the Flame as his cigarette igniter since his arrival.
Lostorf, with all
the wily wit of a sim claim bandit, then offered some of his Brooklyn
Bridge sale gains, back to the Hibster. This payment of $10 was to
cover his seat on top of the bus, where he would hold the flaming Flame
aloft singing 'Flower of Scotland' at the top of his lungs for the
duration of the trip. Again Lostorf's cleverness shone through, after
stating, "I just put up with that accent for 14 hours. If that doesn't
wreck his throat, I will rip his voice box out with my bare hands!"
The crew marveled at
Lostorf's brilliance and then scrambled to get the seat next to Donna.
Unbeknownst to the males on the crew, Sandee, with the assistance of
Winterheart, had folded that darn pesky CR Racers banner in to a mock
nun's outfit. They slipped Donna into it and with Hibby handing over
his Nana Mouskouri-esque glasses for safe keeping, Donna now wore the
perfect disguise. Most daughters of God would have been safe from the
advances of members of the opposite sex, but you readers must remember
that one Irisharse is a member of the CR Racers crew. He nestled right
in next to Sister Donna and let rip with a barrage of one liners what
would have turned a hooker straight. Winterheart and Sandee were
disappointed. Irish's fellow men were disgusted and Donna was
afraid...very afraid, and prayed for Todd to come to her aid. Hibby
merely smiled merrily, singing at the top of his lungs, oblivious to
the shenanigans going on beneath him.
The bus blazed on
through the night and if you listened carefully you could hear the Mad
one from the roof, "Oh flaaaaa o Scootlund......ack ack (cough...spit
...splutter) arkayedanooo thaa boogs they be hooge oat 'ere......but
damn tasty thooo."
The bus pulled in at
a bus stop, still half the journey ahead of the crew. The entire group
staggered off the bus rubbing their weary eyes and trying to adjust
them to the early morning light that was starting to force out the
night skies. Ads proceeded to climb up to the roof of the bus to check
on the Hibster and nearly fell backwards off the vehicle in fits of
laughter. He came down safely, regaining his composure, then said,
"Wait till ya see Dougie."
The crew each
climbed the bus to take a look at the Mad one. Each was greeted by a
sleeping, snoring Scotsman...his face coated in a mixture of crusted on
bug guts from his harrowing night time journey and a finer splattering
of melted marshmallows and icing sugar powder ringing around his lips.
The stick he'd used for charring his marshmallows in the Equinics flame
was still firmly held in his hand and his free hand was tucked
comfortably down the front of his trousers. He really was a vision of
pretty but also a vision of ugly... Let's just say he was pretty ugly
and leave it there.
Hibby was shaken
from dream world and greeted the crew with a beaming grin. Bits of bug
leg and wings could be seen wedged between his teeth, but that smile
was so infectious the crew could not help but smile back. Then the
question was asked, "Where's the Flame, Dougie?"
The Scotsman tried
to reply but all that came from his mouth was a hideous soft screeching
noise...and a few moth wings and legs. Dougie mouthed something that
could have been deciphered as "I goon toke"... which made Inzy get a
tad more interested in proceedings, but most had realized he has saying
"I can't talk!"
Lostorf cheered. The
others glared. Dougie stared. Donna donned a fake beard. "All aboard!",
the speakers bleared. But the Flame had disappeared.
Tuffguy tried
unsuccessfully to be the voice of reason and calmly stated that at some
stage over the past seven hours, Dougie had stopped cooking
marshmallows and dropped the Flame. So somewhere down the highway
behind us the Flame lay...simple as that. Irish took a break from
chatting up the bearded lady and took a lunge at Tuffguy, reaching for
the neck of the so-called voice of reason. A couple of quick jabs
stopped the irate aggressor in his tracks. Tuffguy stepped out from
behind Sandee, who was cracking her knuckles and shaking off the ill
effects of the blows she laid on Irish.
"Anyone else want a
piece of me?" called Tuffguy, puffing out his chest like a baboon in
heat. "I did not get this name for noth....” He was cut short by a
solid blow to the midriff by a now agitated Sandee.
Away from the
violence Rharfo, Trotter, and a very on edge Inzy were discussing what
to do next. "Look guys, the
crew is falling apart," said Trot. "We lost Donna and the Flame so far
and we've only been together for 10 hours."
"Not to mention we
have no idea where Gove is going to be," stated Rharfo. "Sandles has
just dropped Irisharse and Tuffguy with a couple of blows that Tyson
would have wanted to own. Dougie looks like some kind of Fear Factor
participant. Balata and Tuffguy are trading golf tips and breeding
advice and neither are very good at either. And quite frankly, with the
demise of Donna and with Sandee being so damn strong, I am going to hit
on Winterheart before Irisharse regains consciousness. I am not
sleeping alone tonight!"
Trotter turned to
Inzy and asked his thoughts on what to do next...
Inzy turned to face
his co-horts, a soggy, badly rolled smoke hung limply in his lips,
white crustily dried saliva had gathered in the corners of his mouth
and you could almost hear it crack as he opened his lips to speak. His
eyes were red, bloodshot slits. You could have blindfolded him with a
shoelace and a vein that ran from his hairline to the middle of his
eyebrows pulsed and swelled like a big blue worm under the skin of his
forehead. Then the words came from out of those cracked lips. "What are
we gonna do? WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?" he screamed. "WE ARE GONNA FIND A
LIGHT FOR MY FRICKIN' SMOKE! THAT'S WHAT WE ARE GONNA DO!!!"
Trotter and Rharfo
cowered into each other as Inzy tried to regain some composure. His
once slit eyes were now wide open and looked as though they would have
sat nicely in a Double D bra. The vein had disappeared back into his
forehead, replaced by a few beads of sweat. Rharfo had only once seen
his brother in this state once before and took a mental trip back in
time to when he had flushed Inzy's favorite Smurfette figurine down the
toilet in reparation for Inzy telling the girl next door that Rharfo
loved her. We had to put the trials of that day behind us pretty
quickly, cause we were brothers...and had 20 minutes to get to the
airport for the Equinics gathering!
Nawbo looked up from
his sketchpad and strolled over to his crumbling crew. "Guys! Look at
us! Squabbling, bickering! We were never like this!"
"Yes we were Naw,"
stated Sandee. "We are always like this. This is who we are - The CR
Racers!" At this point a tune magically starts up from nowhere, a tune
symbolizing loyalty and honor, trumpets and fanfare ...
Sandee continued.
"We knock each other. We trash each others' CR Race entries."
"We comment on a
person when they leave the chat room," added the bearded lady.
"We make impossible
race restrictions for the crew that only suits a few, " Ads said
sagely.
"We get members to
support the rezzie with their stables and then moan about how many they
own, " Lostorf inserted.
"I want a frickin'
light!" yowled Inzy.
"BUT we are the CR
Racers, the best darn residency in the sim," a battered Irisharse
chimed in, grabbing his fallen comrade Tuffguy by the hand and helping
him to his feet. "We fight on through adversity and are always there
for each other!" The music grew even louder now.
The crew had huddled
up and formed a circle around Nawbo. Arm in arm they chanted the sacred
CR Racers pledge of allegiance and a warm feeling rushed through the
crew. This was the crew of old. They each had made their peace with
each other... although Inzy was still on edge and muttering something
about a frickin' light.
The moment was
broken when someone asked what Nawbo had been sketching. He opened his
book and showed a well drawn picture of a greyhound bus driving off
down a country road. Each turned in horror to where the bus had ONCE
sat. It was gone...long gone and with it the CR Racers aspirations of
making it to the rendezvous point. Irish made a move toward Nawbo, much
like his advance on Tuffguy, only to have Sandee cross his path yet
again. He stepped back and joined an agitated Inzy behind the group.
The damn music was
still echoing through the valleys even though the "Loyalty" speech was
well and truly over. Not only was it still echoing but also getting
louder and it was joined in chorus now, by the low drone of a vehicle.
Each member looked down the road they had just traveled and the music
continued to get louder. Then, over the rise in the road came a little
Red Lada with a horse trailer on the back. The music was screaming from
the car as it pulled in next to the crew. Then it was cut short as the
engine stopped and the driver's door opened. A young man stepped out
from the car, glasses covering his eyes, but a smile as infectious as
Madhibby's (on a good day) greeted the crew. It was Gove, the other
lost member.
"What happened to
you lot?" Gove asked.
"What happened to
YOU mate?" asked Lostorf. "You missed the plane!"
"Oh yeah, that's
right, my mistake. I missed by ½ an hour and had to get a rental
car. This tidy little number," he said rubbing the Lada lovingly.
"What's with the
music you were playing?" inquired Winterheart.
"Oh that's Waki's
favorite inspirational tune. He needs it to perform at his peak. The
stable master gave it to me when I picked him up," stated Gove.
"It ain't working
too damn well," sniggered Balata.
"That Lada got a
frickin' cigarette lighter?" asked Inzy, looking up from where he was
rubbing sticks together.
"Nah, matey. That
was only in the luxury model Lada not this one. Sorry," Gove replied.
The vein in Inzy's
forehead once more began to throb and Rharfo, seeing the early signs of
an infamous Inzamam 'flip out', tapped his fellow members on the
shoulder and signaled for them to head for shelter in the horse trailer
with Waki Warrior.
Rharfo stumbled in
the door and tripped on the metal flaming cone on the trailer’s floor.
"Damn stupid place for a flaming cone. Better get rid of this, might
spook the horse."
As he picked up the
cone of fire it lit up the whole horse trailer and Rharfo stood face to
face with a miniature pony, who had a name tag around it's neck, which
read, "Waki Warrior", but the name was peeling off at one corner.
Trotter ripped off the label on the tag, which revealed the name "Lulu
Bell" and at this discovery they burst into fits of laughter.
"You've been duped,
Gove my lad!" said Irish. "This is a much finer piece of horseflesh
than the Waki one!" he laughed.
They all walked out
of the trailer and went to share the joke with Inzy, in an effort to
calm his fractured nerves. As they came into the morning light, Tuffguy
focused on the flaming cone...
"It's the Equinics
Flame!" he exclaimed.
"It's the Flame!"
said Ads.
"It is...it's the
Flame!" added Sandee.
"The Flame!" said
Donna, removing the beard.
"A frickin' light!"
exclaimed a triumphant Inzy, dashing over to the cone of fire. He
plunged his face into the flame and pulled back, cigarette glowing in
the morning light and eyebrows smoking from a severe singeing, but he
was the happiest he had been on the entire trip.
"Ohhh! So that's the
Equinics Flame?" inquired Gove. "I found it on the side of the road 20
miles back, glowing like a beacon. It smelt like marshmallow so I
thought it was some flash fondue set. Was gonna give it to mom for
Christmas. Chucked it in with Waki Warrior as he was sounding a little
hoarse."
"He is a little
horse," chuckled Balata.
"Well, the whole
crew is here now. We have the Flame and a place to be...so we better
head on out," suggested Trotter.
Ok, so now its time
to fit all 14 of us in the Lada. It's amazing what little you get
for 9000 euros nowadays. The Lada wasn't built for comfort or speed or
for anything else for that matter but it was firmly attached to the
horse trailer...hem... pony trailer.
"Ok, who's gonna
drive, who knows where we are, who knows where we are going, what are
we gonna do with that ratty pony?" All good questions in need of
answers.
Irish suggested that
all members strip naked and coat themselves in oil, which he seemed to
produce from nowhere, thus we could ALL slide into the Lada with
minimal fuss. This idea was quickly knocked on the head and Irish and
Hibby got dressed again.
After a bit of arm
wrestling and coin flipping, and I even saw a few rock/paper/scissors,
we had a batting order or riding order as it were, with Trotter at the
helm, mostly cuz he jumped in and locked the door and rolled up the
window. Inzy yelled shotgun and jumped in the passenger side (left side
cuz the Lada people put the stupid steering wheel on the wrong side of
the car. I wonder if Trotter knew this when he jumped in behind the
wheel so quickly?)
Winter, Sandee, and
Donna all jumped into the middle seat made for two but had no problem
scrunching together and said, "Sorry fellas, but we don't do trailers."
There was enough room for Balata and Naws to squeeze cross-legged
facing each other in the very back of the Lada with their heads and
necks only bent at a 45 degree angle. That left Irish, Madhibby,
Rharfo, Lostorf, Tuffguy, Gove, Ads, and Lulu Bell to fight it out for
a good spot in the trailer.
"Lulu Bell stinks!
Let's set her free next time we stop!" offered Irish.
Rharfo chimed in,
"Why wait till we stop?"
Lulu Bell's fate was
sealed in a 7-1 vote. She was off the island as soon as it stopped for
gas.
Trotter pointed us
in what hopefully was the right direction, with Inzy now the designated
torchbearer, and we were off. Or were we? Sandee whipped out a road
atlas from what seemed like nowhere and the girls all started map
reading and pointing in different directions at the first intersection.
"Go straight! No,
right! Wait! Left!" said Sandee.
"We always go left
when we are lost at home," replied Donna.
"Who said that?"
muttered Balata.
Pulling up a pew
next to Lulu Bell in the back of the trailer was looking more and more
appealing to Trotter by the second. Hmmm. Seven eighths of a tank of
gas left, almost time for a fill-up!
As the roadside
landscapes of Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia zipped past
the air vents of the horse trailer, it was a never-ending chess game of
jockeying for position when a knee cramped or a foot fell asleep. And
if everyone moved at the same time it sent the trailer swerving from
side to side as weight shifted. Everyone's heart skipped a few beats
until it got itself back into line with the Lada.
Tuffguy said, "I'm
gonna kill that bus driver if I ever see him again!"
By nightfall Sandee
found herself behind the wheel because she had stated so adamantly that
she "knew Florida like the back of her hand" and no one else was in any
condition to argue with her. She soon found herself driving while being
serenaded by a choir of Zzzzzz's. Everyone was asleep but Lulu Bell who
somehow had held her spot even though she had been voted off and she
wasn't closing an eye for a second. On the other hand, Sandee herself
was starting to feel a little bit drowsy and tried everything from
opening all the windows to singing along to every song on the radio.
She even tried a few puffs on one of Inzy's homemades. She had to find
a place to stop for coffee and quick!
Florida, the tourist
trap capital of the world, is full of inviting road signs that try to
lure you off the beaten path. The modern day traveler would never fall
for this kind of roadside spam. Sandee, on the other hand, knew Florida
like the back of her hand and was never lost in the Sunshine State. So
when she saw the sign for the Shady Rest Motel and Diner - Next Right,
she couldn't resist the temptation, even though it was an unlit dirt
road. After what seemed like hours of twists and turns on the dusty
road, she finally pulled into the Shady Rest with only one eye open.
"Finally! We made
it."
Sandee left her
sleeping crew to finish their dreams of Sim Derby winners and went
inside the Shady Rest for 14 coffees to go. It didn't take long for
everyone to realize we had stopped moving. The cramped and sleeping
appendages were starting to throb, so one by one, everyone dismounted
the Lada and trailer except Lulu Bell, who wasn't budging an inch.
Dazed and disoriented we tried to get our bearings.
"Where are we?"
"Are we there yet?"
Donna asked if this
was Disney World.
"Someone go ask
where we are and if they have seen Sandee."
A sleeping gas
attendant was found by Winter near the pumps and awakened by her
interrogation. She quickly returned with a funny look on her face
and asked, "Where were we when we all fell asleep, guys?"
"Somewhere on the
Florida panhandle I think," said Naws.
"Where are we now?"
asked Gove.
"Some place called
Bent Fork," replied Winter.
"Bent Fork? Never
heard of it," said Nawbo.
"Where in Florida is
Bent Fork?" asked Ads.
"Bent Fork isn't in
Florida! It's in Tennessee!" Winter explained.
"Yikes, who let
Sandee drive?" asked Lostorf and Trotter sheepishly raised his hand.
"Well, we might as
well go in the diner and meet Cousin Ernie, Teensy, and Weensy and get
something to eat while we're here,” Trot suggested.
"I sure hope we
don't get stopped for speeding while we're here cuz I ain't marrying
the sheriff's daughter to get us all out of jail!" proclaimed Ads.
"I'll step up for
the crew should that arise," announced Irish solemnly.
The crew went into
the diner to find Sandee, each muttering to themselves about what a
stupid idea this Equinics Flame thing was and also complaining of stiff
necks and pins and needles in their appendages. They entered the
café and saw Sandee face down on the counter with 14 empty cups
scattered around her. She was sound asleep but mumbling inaudibly. The
crew each listened to her mutterings, but could not decipher her
ramblings as hard as they tried. Sandee then woke and shrieked "ARE WE
THERE YET?" sending her fellow chatters leaping away from the once
sleeping lady in fright. Sandee had a dried on coffee foam
moustache on her upper lip, and her eyes were blood shot and looking
very weary. She gave a smile and asked "Coffee anyone?"
Each member nodded
and aeveryone sat down to a warm cup of joe. The travel weary crew
asked Sandee if she knew where we were and she confidently replied in
the affirmative. "We'll be closing in on St. Pete in 10-20 miles or
so."
This surprised all
of her comrades. "Get me back behind that wheel and we'll be off. We
should hit the rendezvous point in another 30 minutes or so."
You could see all
the crew members inching up to get a peek at the back of Sandy’s hand.
No one had either
the heart or the cojones to tell her we were three hours from the last
sign of real life, let alone in a totally different state than what we
should be. But it was decided that she should try to catch up on some
sleep because she had done way too much driving...way, WAY too much.
Nawbo took the
wheel, ladies in the back, Irish front passenger, and Dougie tucked up
in the back window behind the females, who all seemed to be sitting a
lot further forward on the back seat than before. Irish was sure it was
because he was in the front seat. The remaining members returned to the
horse trailer and jostled for positions as they had done at every stop
on the journey thus far. The only missing member of the crew was Lulu
Bell alias Waki Warrior. The pony had been traded for supplies at the
diner. Just the necessities though i.e. a cigarette lighter for Inzy,
coffee for Sandee, rub on tattoo for Winter, body oil for Irish,
anti-pheromone spray for Donna, U.S regulation putter for Balata, ear
plugs for Lostorf, insect repellent for Hibby, a "How to beat the odds"
guide for Ads, a self defense book for Tuffguy, a blow up doll for
Rharfo, a cushion seat warmer for Nawbo, a ‘My Little Pony’ toy for
Gove, and a copy of Penthouse for Trotter... as well as a full tank of
gas, 30 coffees, and an assortment of snacks for the road. Balata
commented on how we would not have got a quarter of the stuff we gained
with the REAL Waki Warrior. Gove shared a few quiet moments with his
travel companion, Lulu Bell, but the pony just seemed to glad to be out
of the reaches of Hibby... but that's another story all together. Lulu
Bell was last seen frolicking in a well-grassed paddock and rubbing
noses with a handsome colt in a neighboring paddock. Lulu Bell was
home.
Back on the road,
things progressed well. Nawbo had switched off from everything around
him except the drone of the Lada engine. All instructions and words of
guidance went in one ear and out the other. He was a man on a mission.
He was going to lead his crew home and no one was going to break his
concentration. Not even the recurring voice of one Scotsman tucked up
in the back of the Lada.
The crew finally hit
the City limits of Orlando, Florida and all were quite thankful. Naws
pulled into the first gas station he saw for a fill-up and relief of
bodily fluids.
"Only 45
minutes to Tampa and we are home free. Nobody move a muscle I'll only
be a second and we'll be on our way," said Naws.
"But we have to go
too!" was the unanimous reply and everyone unloaded and ran for the
Texaco Mini Mart doors like it was the start of the Breeders Cup Sprint.
Getting 14 people
out of the Lada and trailer was easy enough, but getting them all back
in quickly wasn't going to be as easy. Things started to unravel
quickly when Coker passed by the rack of tourism leaflets and noticed
most of them said Disney World discount tickets on them, "Are we near
Disney?" she asked.
Before everyone
could say ‘NO’ the attendant said, "Just 4 miles down the road on the
right. You can't miss it!"
Irish was heard
mumbling, "Remind me to cut that guy’s tongue out before we leave!"
Trotter was more on
the ball than most, noting that we didn't have sufficient funds left to
get everyone into Disney World at 99 bucks a head. Then the soon to be
dead attendant chimed in "How many in your group? If you have 14 you
can get the special rate of 2 for 1."
Everyone just looked
at each other for a few seconds wondering the same thing, "Who do we
kill so we don't get the discount?" and "Can we just get back on the
road and pass this Flame off in Tampa.?" Ok, so it was harder for some
in the group to shake off the "kill the man" idea than others, but in
the end everyone remained silent as Lostorf spent the last of the
Brooklyn Bridge money on gas and advanced purchase Disney World tickets
for 14.
Donna's enthusiasm
for the Disney stop was starting to rub off on everyone as they
remounted the Lada, but they had to wait for the straggling Irish, who
for some reason took his grand old time exiting the Mini Mart. When he
finally did appear he was moving at a brisk pace and smiling from ear
to ear. "Hurry up and drive" was all he said.
Disney World put us
another day behind schedule but it transformed us all into children for
a day. Inzy made everyone laugh until they cried when he thought the
parking lot tram ride to the entrance was really a roller coaster and
he refused to get aboard until Minnie Mouse, our tram driver, assured
him there was only rolling involved and no coaster. Everyone ate too
much and rode too many rides especially Rharfo and Winter who rode the
‘It's A Small World’ ride for half the afternoon before someone pointed
them towards Space Mountain. Trotter and Irish spent half the day at
Disney MGM Studios waiting patiently outside the Golden Girls house for
autographs, only to learn it was just a prop house used for filming the
rare outside shots. On closer inspection of the front windows it
revealed that in fact the house only had a front and no back. Balata
was in heaven with five Goofy golf courses to pick from, vowing to
break par on at least one of them before he left. You couldn't drag
Tuffguy off the Runaway Train for anything. This may have been due to
the absolute cutie collecting tickets there!
The day was topped
off with dinner in MGM Studios Hollywood Brown Derby Restaurant with a
waiter who looked like Bob Hope. It was Cobb Salads and steaks all
around and plenty of laughs as everyone relived the day one last time.
Inzy floored us all one last time when he produced hundreds of so
called 'free' souvenirs from every pocket, saying he thought they were
free because they charged us a one time fee to get in the place so he
took all he could carry. Snow globes and key chains and mouse ears and
Dumbo flashlights, he had it all. I thought we'd never stop laughing as
he produced trinket after trinket until Bob Hope produced the dinner
check on a plate shaped like a derby.
"Well it was fun
while it lasted," said Trotter as he tried to spy the total on the
check without appearing to be overly interested.
"Anybody have any
money left," asked Sandee. "Anybody?"
Irish reached for
the check and admitted rather sheepishly, "Hey, ummm...that Mini Mart
guy added our total for gas and Disney tickets up wrong and gave us a
refund. After I brought it to his attention of course. Real nice guy
too. I think his name was Joe something."
"Well that was
lucky," said Sandee, oblivious to Joe's possible fate. Winter just
wondered if Joe still had his tongue.
"Lucky for Joe too,"
added Irish and he stood to leave before he had to answer too many
questions.
Everyone was pretty
quiet as Roger Rabbit trammed us back to the Lada. We were almost
there, only 82.6 miles to go and the Flame would be someone else's
problem. Sandee said she would drive the final leg cuz...and everyone
chimed in, "I know Florida like the back of my hand... NOT!"
Trotter jumped
behind the wheel and told everyone to get in and hang on. This was
gonna be the fastest 82.6 miles they ever traveled, except for maybe
the 2 hour shift the day before when Tuffguy drove through Georgia.
We'll never forget that as long as we live...which was not going to be
too long if Trotter tried too hard to emulate Tuffguy’s driving prowess.
"Next Stop Tampa Bay
Downs."
Along the way, the
CR Racers crew debated who should do the actual handing over of the
Flame. Inzy suggested we just slow down a bit and throw it out the
window as we all sped past, mooning the recipients but that idea was
quickly squashed by Sandee when she said she doesn't moon in mixed
company?!? Lostorf thought maybe we could meet the Fun and Friends gang
and say we have a plane to catch and just bail quick smart. Winter said
past handovers were done a bit more formally and decent, but looked
around her fellow chatters and doubted they had the class for such a
hand over, so just left it there. Madhibby suggested...umm something,
but no one had any idea what he had uttered and doubted it would have
been any good anyways. The kiwi connection suggested a Maori Haka but
that was chucked out too, as the demo given scared the living bejesus
out of the crew watching on...not for the faint hearted. Ads came up
with the most diplomatic idea and said we should all take turns handing
it to each other and then whoever happens to be the last one will pass
the Flame. There...that wasn't too painful an idea and everyone agreed,
making it all the more amazing.
They pulled into the
parking lot of the hand over point and Gove pointed out a group of
people standing under a huge banner with "Fun and Friends Residency"
written on it. He then said, "I think that’s them."
"You think?" said
Inzy sarcastically.
"Yep, I think it
is," replied Gove, oblivious to Inzy’s attempted sarcasm.
They pulled up next
to the group, who all looked rather excited at the thought of taking
hold of the Equinics Flame. Much the same way the CR Racers crew had
looked when seeing the KY Horsemen pull in at their rendezvous point so
many days ago...or so it had seemed.
After some quick
greetings and best wishes, the Flame was readied for the official
handing over. The receiving crew noticed how the CR Racers seemed to
all have a huge weight lifted from them as they each took their final
hold of the flaming cone. Inzy lit one last homemade and handed the
Flame to Lostorf, who handed it to Winterheart, who handed it to Hibby
(who promptly toasted one final marshmallow in the flame.) He then
handed it to Ads, who handed it to Coker, who handed it to Tuffguy, who
handed it to Rharfo, who handed it to Sandee, who handed it to Nawbo,
who gave the cone a quick buff up with his Disneyland tie. He then
handed it to Gove, who decided he wanted to keep it and had to be
wrestled to the ground by Balata who pried the Flame from his hands and
handed it to Trotter who handed it to Irisharse...who gladly passed the
Flame over to Zapspride and his young residency, saying, "Good luck!
You’re gonna need it"”
Thus ended the saga
of the CR Racers cross-country trip. With the final handoff came
the realization that this wonderful adventure was coming to an end. The
group would soon be saying good-bye to one another. Trying to hold on
to the moment, it was suggested that the group make one last trip to
Disney. That was met with a resounding, NO!
After a session of
hand shaking and good-bye hugs, followed by another round of hugs for
Donna by the male folk and then another round for good measure, the
crew said their good-byes. The tearful farewell sent the Chatters their
separate ways. As Irish and Trotter walked away, you could here
Trotter say, "Hey Irish! What ever happened to the nun?" Thus
ended the saga of the CR Crew.
Written
by Rharfo, Irisharse, and Trotter
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