Chapter 6
It was getting late and we were getting tired. We still had
the car corral to trudge through, the 1,323 vendor spaces
to pick over and some 2,243 vehicles on the show field to
inspect. Would we find "it?" It was anyone's guess
at this point. We called it a night, hit the motel and got
an early start the next morning. Should we split up to cover
more ground? How would we know when we actually found "it?"
What if there was a disagreement and ensuing temper tantrums
about "it?" The tension was mounting. TheBruntBros
were snapping at everyone else and not bothering to go through
their interpreter. The team was replying in sign language,
which needed no interpretation. Our entire mission--at a huge
expense, I might add--was starting to unravel.
Chapter 7
This was “IT!” (Or
was it?) |
It was Nick Brunt who first heard it. The distant but distinctive
sound of a Hemi--an early Hemi. The sound set off goose bumps
on Brunt's arm. A yellow and lime green..., a yellow and lime
green...thing...slowly made its way through the crowd and
came to rest 10 feet in front of us. This was "it."
THIS WAS "IT!!"
This is what it took three days traveling to find (the trip
should have taken 3-1/2 hours but every time TheBruntBros
saw a "Clean Rest Rooms" sign, we had to stop so
they could clean them). Now there it was--right in front of
us. The essence of Mopardom. The car Walter P. would have
given his right arm to build. The car Bob Lutz didn't have
the guts to build. The car that would have stopped the DaimlerChrysler
merger dead in its tracks (we can't take them over--they're
too good for us. It would make our S-Class look like an entry-level
toy).
For what DRO pays us, we had to
scramble to make bus fare back home. |
Chapter 8
So... what was "it?" "It" was Bob Bialecki's
chopped 1951 2-door Plymouth station wagon with a 1955 291
Hemi and PowerFlite 2-speed trans, 8-3/4 rear, chopped V-windshield,
punched hood, power steering and brakes, tilt wheel and electric
seat (eat your heart out, Lutz). We had found "it"
at Carlisle!
Chapter 9
Several days later as we sat downing a few cold ones at the
Harris Pub, the realization slowly sank in on all of us. We
hadn't found "it" at all. Maybe Bialecki's wagon
would have been "it" if it had pompoms and a Cucaracha
horn. Maybe. There was only one thing left to do--make the
trek back to Carlisle next year in search of the elusive "it."
Maybe we'd find it then. 
|
