Sitting outside the Pate Transportation Museum, this retired LVT-5 amphibious personnel carrier is of the type used by the U.S. Marines during the Vietnam-era. Though a tracked vehicle, it is technically not a tank.

They say that variety is the spice of life, and I guess I’d have to go along with that.  While I’m no poster child for that mantra, I definitely enjoy variety….within certain parameters, I suppose.  Long trips on the road can get boring sometimes, and you find yourself lying in your hotel or your semi at night, trying to fall asleep and wishing you were at home in your own bed, someplace familiar and comfortable, as opposed to the alien confines of the Holiday Inn or Comfort Inn that you’ve established temporary residence in.  However, when you can add a little bit of (you guessed it) variety to the trips, it makes the road really fun, and the trips seem not so long.

Nearly two weeks have passed since Darrell, Geremie, Mat, and I pulled out of the shop and left for Ardmore, OK.  We had spent the week bringing the Raminator R/T back out of hibernation, as it would be making its first two stops of the year in Ardmore, and a week later in Hobbs, NM.  Geremie’s Raminator race truck would be racing at both of those events, which were part of the CFP winter series.  While the R/T was loaded and ready to go the night before we left, problems had persisted all week long in getting the #5 truck ready to depart for Oklahoma.  Severe clutch failure had occurred the previous weekend at an independent show in North Carolina during the last show, which necessitated the removal of the bellhousing in #5 so that the clutch could be replaced.  Due to the broken clutch, the output shaft would not come free without great effort and much time spent, which delayed the removal of the bellhousing.  A seal on the front of the Hemi in #5 had also gone awry in NC, which incited the removal of the intake manifold and all of the pulleys and the belt, so that the failed seal could be replaced.  Thursday morning, the truck finally roared to life and drove into the trailer, and shortly thereafter we were on our way to Ardmore.

Thankfully the trip down there was uneventful, and as far as the R/T was concerned, the weekend was uneventful as well, thankfully.  The 528ci Hemi in the truck had been freshened up the previous week (heads milled, some seals replaced, etc), the entire front steering system (including hoses) had been replaced, and some great new MasterCraft seats has been installed.  Those, and a host of small changes, kept me constantly alert to the sound and feel of the truck as I drove it during the week-end, listening for any possible problem that might need attended.  First weekend jitters, I suppose.

As I said, the weekend was fairly uneventful for the R/T, though the same could not be said for #5, unfortunately.  Though no major problems ended up arising, we thought we had one early on with the clutch and motor.  After some minor clutch adjustments, that issue was laid to rest.  The engine, however, still wanted to pain us in the backside some more.  A timing adjustment during the show Friday helped matters, and the truck performed well enough to land Geremie in the semi-finals, in addition to a freestyle win.  Saturday morning a quick run through the valves netted us the main culprit of our engine woes, and from there on she was good to go.  A racing win Saturday afternoon and controversial final round loss Saturday night, coupled with two more freestyle wins ensured that the weekend was not a loss.  Demon, Public Disturbance, Monster Moose, Predator, and Prowler rounded out the lineup for the weekend, so you know there was no easy race, especially when you consider that the two Allen Pezo-owned trucks aren’t just mere kitty cats, but Hemi-powered Kitty Cats.  I would also like to note (and beg the reader’s pardon) that I was unable to shoot any photos during the Ardmore shows, between the constant business we had going on and the gawd-awful ventilation which left the arena filled with a thick fog each show.

We killed spare time on Sunday in Ardmore, but don’t ask me how we did it.  Picture a town with nothing in it and nothing to do.  Got it?  Plop a “Welcome to Ardmore” sign next to the highway on the way in to town, and you’ve got it.  Thankfully, the Ardmore Holiday Inn had ESPN2, which meant we were able to enjoy the NHRA drag races from Phoenix in the comfort of our rooms.  How about Melanie Troxel in the points lead after two races, eh?  Pretty cool stuff.  Sunday also marked our first (but certainly not last) visit to a local Mexican restaurant.  My judging criteria when it comes to Mexican food is how well it looks when it arrives on the table, how spicy it is, how flavorful it is, how fast the service was, and how much English vs. Espanol the staff speaks.  KD’s score for the joint in Ardmore = 7 / 10.  Not bad, but not the best.  Definitely authentic though, as I had to order my guacamole in my less-than-fluent-forgot-what-I-learned-in-High-School-Spanish (Necessito guacamole, por favor.)

The four of us took time to show the local Bridgeport high school students a little bit about our trucks, and what we do with them.

Monday morning we departed the Hardy Murphy Coliseum (which I might add was probably constructed in the late 1600’s) and made the short drive down to Bridgeport, TX.  Bridgeport is home to none other than Ed Beckley himself, renowned motorcycle jumper-turned-promoter, and his CFP offices.  Ed was kind enough to allow us to park the race truck hauler on his property, and arranged for me to park the R/T hauler in a field that adjoined the local high school.  This gave us the opportunity to wash things up, perform our customary maintenance routines, polish wheels, etc.  We also took the time one day to speak to the auto shop classes from the high school, and show them around our trucks and trailers.  Despite the 80+ degree weather (hey, I was in Sioux City the week before; See my previous article “I can’t feel my face!”) we managed to get everything looking and working great, and managed to even get a bit of sunburn/suntan.  I should also note that while in Texas for a couple days, we must have eaten Mexican three or four times, I think from the same place each time.  The place in Bridgeport deserves a 9/10, by the way.

One of the first things you notice as you approach the Pate Museum is this 1950’s era minesweeper, visible from the highway.

Tuesday, we took a day off from working on stuff and headed down to the Dallas / Ft. Worth area for a little R&R (that’s Racing & Researching, not Rest & Relaxation).  Our first stop was about 20 miles southwest of Ft. Worth, the Pate Museum of Transportation.  The website and sign at the front gate confirmed that they opened at 10am, and we arrived at 9:50 or so.  After calling the provided number and driving all around the perimeter, there was no sign of any museum staff, not even so much as a caretaker.  Being the aviation, automobile, and military buff that I am, I was disappointed that we were going to have to move on, nearly empty-handed.  Though the museum pales in comparison to, say, the Wright-Patterson Air Force Museum in Dayton, OH, there was still some interesting aircraft and other vehicles parked outside of the museum building, and who knows what inside.

A retired USAF CH-21 “Shawnee” helicopter sits idle among a variety of fix-winged aircraft in the outdoor airpark section of the Pate Museum.

As I walked along the front fence of the museum, snapping what photos I could of the exterior airpark, the museum operator finally showed up in a beat-up mid-80’s Suburban, which appeared to be in the same state of disrepair as the aircraft on display were.  Inside, we found more than just military artifacts, but also a small yet impressive collection of classic and rare autos, including a 1963 Corvette (thank you Zora Aukus-Duntov), a Shelby GT-500 Cobra, and many other classic autos from the first half of the 20th Century.  There was also a pair of early NASA space travel pods, the type used in the Mercury and early Apollo manned space missions.  Again, not the biggest or best museum you’ll find, but definitely worth the free admission and short drive.  There was even an actual periscope from a late 1940’s US diesel submarine installed in the back room of the museum, and it wasn’t just for kicks; it worked!  I somehow managed to shoot a picture of our Durango through the viewfinder of the periscope, but don’t ask me how I did it; it was much harder than it looked.

Our wheels for this trip, a Dodge Durango, as seen through the museum’s functioning periscope.

No arguments here, this is for-sure a tank. Though this tank is from the line of
M-46 thru M-67 tanks that the US produced, I can’t figure out what model it is, as it has five bogey wheels as opposed to the standard six.

One of the few Delorean sports cars left in existence.

A Shelby GT-500 on display in the museum, in great condition.

By this point in time the museum visit and stop at the local Waffle House (the worst Southwestern Omelet ever, by the way) had eaten up the better part of half a day.  Though I had about four or five other museums I would have liked to visit, we all wanted to visit the Dallas SpeedZone race park, knowing full well that midday on Tuesday would be prime time for some violent go-kart racing.  I think Darrell appreciates the type of stuff you find in museums, but I’m not sure the rest of our intrepid crew would be caught in line to get into the JFK Conspiracy museum.  Regardless, the weather was great and I was itching to let out some aggressiveness on the race track, so SpeedZone it was.  Mat and I purchased a pass that gave us unlimited go-karts, miniature golf, and video games all day, while DW and Geremie added on three races in the Jr. Dragster thing to their passes.  Mat and I watched eagerly, expecting the guys to go rocketing down the course in what appeared to be capable replica rail cars, sporting big block Chevy’s with pro stock-like injector covers.  Waaa Waaaaa Waaaaaaaaaah.  They didn’t look fast at all from our vantage point. Geremie drilled DW and everyone else on the light each of the three races, though Darrell always finished a close second. They said that the cars felt reasonably fast, but I just couldn’t see peeling an extra $12 out of my wallet for it.

Geremie owning everyone else on the strip at SpeedZone in Dallas.

I sat out a race to get some pictures of the guys racing. Here we see them running a clean race…

…While here we see Mat spinning Darrell out. Ha!

Now, the go-karts on the other hand.  Well, ha!  If only the misfortunate people we raced against for the next five hours knew what the four of us did for a living.  All four of us had a successful day on the track, despite the electronically governed (and very battered) go-karts.  While the only people we punted into the fence intentionally were each other, we weren’t afraid to let somebody have it if they trifled with us…or at least I sure wasn’t.  I was more than happy to spin out the father and son who seemed to find joy in slamming in to the side of my car every chance they got.  Besides, my car had the number “20” on the side, so I figured I was obligated to bump draft, even in the hairpin turns.  The adrenalin of the racetrack made the miniature golf course seem pretty boring despite the half-baked race theme, and we didn’t even touch the video games.  You get four racers who’ve been stuck in sub-freezing weather for the last four months, drop them off in 85-degree weather in Dallas at a go-kart track with an all day pass, and cut ‘em loose.  What do you expect?  I had a blast, as did the rest of the crew, and I even managed to pull myself away from the races for a few laps to shoot a couple pics of the guys duking it out, Briggs & Stratton-style.  I credit my success on the racetrack to my superb skills on the Gran Turismo series of Playstation games.

The amazing used-up-so-now-its-on-the-golf-course Stock Car at SpeedZone. Look, its floating!

Clearly this dragster has seen better days. Still, kind of a cool prop as far as mini-golf courses are concerned. I mean, sure, its no windmill….

SpeedZone at night, just as we were leaving…after several hours of wearing out their go-karts.

Thursday morning we were on the road once again, this time heading west through Texas for the remote town of Hobbs, NM.  The A/C in the Freightliner I pull the R/T trailer with decided to be uncooperative just outside of Bridgeport, so down the windows went.  Honestly though, the sound of the road and the cool breeze was a welcome change from the sleet and snow I’ve been privy too in the past couple of months.  On the way to Hobbs, we passed some NHRA haulers heading eastbound, no doubt heading home from Phoenix.  The NHRA has mandated a new type of Goodyear drag slick for competition this year, and no doubt these teams were taking advantage of the “Monday-after-the-race” test session in Phoenix to try to figure the new meats out.  Among the teams we spotted were Doug Herbert and Cory MacClenathan’s top fuel dragster teams.  They have beautiful rigs, but it is nice to look at our rigs and see that they are every bit as nice looking, every bit as shiny, and the people inside every bit as cool (maybe cooler) as any NHRA haulers.

The sign says it all.

A mere six or seven hours after departing Bridgeport, we arrived in the dusty, flat, desert town of Hobbs.  The array of local merchants (Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Applebee’s, etc) had us hoping that perhaps there would be something interesting to do in town, but those hopes eventually fizzled out.  Besides, we had work to do and it was kind of nice to get back in the swing of things.  Thursday evening, after parking the rigs at the Lea County Events Center (a ten-fold improvement over Ardmore), we took to the hotel.  I’d been reading Neil Peart’s The Masked Rider: Cycling in West Africa, which I had discovered was very hard to put down.  While lying on my bed indulging myself in stories of West African culture, one of those “VH1 presents the 100 Greatest Hard Rock Artists” shows came on.  Much like a race, or a Monty Python film, I can’t not watch one of those shows; especially when you can catch it from the beginning.  There is always that weird eternal hope that some of the bands you like will be featured on the show, even if you know deep down that they really are better than most of the other bands featured on the show.  The show was nearly six years old, so newer bands that deserve to be on the list were obviously omitted, and after favorites like the Smashing Pumpkins had passed, I began to loose interest and went back to my book.  That’s when Rush came on, down into the top 20. My interest re-piqued, I listened as one of the members of Pantera quipped “The first time I saw Rush, I’m pretty sure God was playing the drums.”  “God” in this instance, happens to be Neil Peart.

Hangin’ out with the RT in Hobbs at Western CJD.







A fan and his young daughter checkin’ out the Raminator R/T.

The next day we found ourselves on display with the R/T at Western Chrysler-Jeep-Dodge, a mere mile and change from the arena.  The display had a healthy attendance all day, and the dealership itself was very nice, with an impressive display of vehicles on display out front, parked on the stereotypical southwestern landscaping.  At the end of the display, the local law enforcement escorted me down the road to the arena, sparing us of having to tire the truck down and back up again at the arena.  Much thanks to them for their assistance, as I love driving that thing on the street on big tires.  Always with safety in mind, DW and the rest of the crew were in close pursuit of me with an RII, in case somebody thought their road rage stood a chance against my Goodyears.  It was time for dinner after that, and so you know, we added another two or three trips to Mexican restaurants while in Hobbs.  Another 7/10 dining adventure.

This slick 03 Ram stopped by our display in Hobbs. The Lamborghini-style door conversion was done very cleanly. Slick baby, slick.

SATURDAY NIGHT ONLY! BE THERE AT THE LEA COUNTY EVENTS CENTER AS THE BAD BOYS OF RACING GO HEAD TO HEAD….Yep, you know how the rest goes.  MT ads on the radio are so well-known that everyone from car dealers to pawn shops have copied them.  I suppose their effectiveness cannot be denied.  Geremie found himself in the finals once again on the small two-jump track against Public Disturbance in the finals.  I can’t say I agree with the call that was made, but PD was called the winner.  Geremie’s rear steering pump fried itself early on in the night, making freestyle a less than appealing task in the small confines of the arena.  Just because the rear steering didn’t work didn’t mean that the gas pedal wouldn’t work either.  Struggling with a slipping clutch and having to back up a lot, Geremie still managed the most impressive air of the night over the car-van-car-car stack, the only truck that I saw clear the entire set.  Predator may have, but I missed out on his run as I had to depart the building to fetch the R/T for some after-show rides.  All in all, another decent night at the races.

Sunday morning we hit the road around 8am, after having gone to bed only a mere 5 or 6 hours earlier.  Nevertheless, home beckoned, and the left tracks behind us as we exited Hobbs.  I have to say, we made pretty good time the first day, calling it a night in Joplin, MO.  The next morning we split up, with Geremie taking I-44 on to St. Louis and up I-55 and I-72 to Champaign, while Darrell and I took a scenic detour through Missouri’s Lake of the Ozarks region up to I-70.  DW and I would be picking up some fiberglass pieces at GTS in Wentzville, MO, located just west of St. Louis on I-70.  This two-lane detour was the most efficient way to get to Wentzville without backtracking, and the trip through the Ozarks was a very personal one for me, as I spent nearly ten summers at my grandfather’s lake house there when I was still living in Kansas City.  Oh how time can change a place…the last time I was in the Ozarks, Tim and Mark Hall had just rolled out their second Executioner truck in the Penda series.  The Ozarks has now become a “Branson on the Water”, so to speak.

The fog clearing off the top of the lake as the sun rises over the Ozarks.

Passing through Jefferson City, Missouri’s capitol, as we make our way to I-70.

Things you see out your semi window, Part VIII: Empty river barge. These things just look cool, if you ask me.

Crossin’ the river back into Illinois, Monday afternoon.

DW and I pulled in to the shop Monday evening around 4:30pm or so.  While I was glad to be home and all, I was kind of disappointed with the weather.  Only 24hrs earlier, I was in shorts and a t-shirt.  I now found myself in my leather HBR jacket and jeans, trying to shrug off the cold as I loaded my stuff into my Ram.  The first “long” trip of the year in the books, a definite success in my book.  Time to head home for a day off to get things back in order, and then get back after it in preparation for this coming weekend’s Monster Nationals event in Battle Creek, MI.  Thanks for reading, apologies all around for the length and lack of any “action” shots.  As always, rock hard!

- KD
 

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