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... As you all know, the unblown A/FDs are THE runners and
the major interest in Alcohol Dragster. Cheese and whine and
dictatorial policy produced a rule that yanked the throw rug
out from under them. Instead of can-lid-label, they will run
96 percent, not a buck. At Las Vegas, the cars had slowed
by a strong three-to-four tenths, leading the bosses to attempt
a 98-percent fix. Not much of an improvement. Hey, how about
'dis? Leave the unblown cars alone and give the blown cars
a weight break to make the show more competitive and still
as quick and fast as it has been.
... Apparently Tommy Johnson, Jr. read my article on my reluctance
to ask friend/racers for their autographs ... you remember
... it just made me feel uneasy. At the end of Saturday testing,
he came up, got my notebook, and autographed right there on
the spot. I was tickled to death, because it not only saved
me from going into my Adrian Monk routine, but I didn't have
to wash the truck and trailer as I had originally planned.
And in the Original Plans Department, I did not plan on going
to the MPCM show at LAX. What can I say, I'm not a salesman.
If anything, I would be brought to shows like that to undermine
sales, sort of an econo-terrorist in gray flannel underwear.
However, a lot of old friends and acquaintances were there
that I hadn't seen, so they figured why not. I'd be like some
sort of weirdass arm candy. Like a Davy Crockett cap on the
head of a guy in an Armani suit.
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I
eavesdropped on a couple of meetings before I was permanently
banished to the Capistrano Bar near the main lobby of the
Embassy Suites, and to this moment marvel at the language
and style of the participants, the army of bottomliners that
occupied the grand hotel.
Terms like "niche market." I have no idea where
a "niche" goes in a race car. I thought about "winch,"
"pinch" and "inch," but, to use the language
of the natives ... no sale.
"Demographics?" I was asked what DRO's demographics
were and I responded and said, "Well, our headquarters
are in O'Fallon, a little town about 30 miles west of St.
Louis.
Then the guy said, "No, not geographics, DEMOgraphics."
I said, "What's the difference, there both graphics,
how far off can I be?"
A guy named Stanley at TCI said he was tired of throwing "sugar
to the bear," and I cut off Darr by saying, "How
long can you stay at the zoo before the smell gets to you?"
Something must've got to Burk and Hawthorne because their
faces began to resemble cherry Tootsie Roll pops as they advanced
towards me after that response. With extreme courtesy, they
sat me on a stool, Burk cut me a $20 tab and told the innkeeper
something like, "At no time is this man to leave your
sight."
A sight that I am currently working at now.
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