Bill Demarest, a driving, and I believe, founding force behind the old Schiefer Mfg. "Groundshakers," contributed mightily, donating sausage manufactured by his family for years. This crew raises their own pork, slaughters it, smokes it and cases it, and it's as good as I've ever eaten. As for other beverages, the Vipers were stuck with 150 gallons of beer and tequila, and a half pint of Diet Pepsi.

"Caligula" and the sausage were first-time experiences to me, and they fell in a culinary backdrop of barbeque, and a variety of other succulent meats. Nightly, Rotan and Cox, both accomplished guitarists (and that's putting it mildly) and Rafael and the congas played 'til late. On one night, Brown and I walked off in the dark and released a half dozen of these "Battle In the Clouds"-type aerial fireworks for the pyrotechnic fans in our bunch.

Now some cynics may say, "Well, wait a minute, you can do some of that at an NHRA national event." Not at the first turnoff road, you can't.

And by the way, that first turnoff road was a good viewing spot. We saw Jack Harris' 5.88 and 250 speeds from that vantage point as well as Dean Carter's Junior Fuel record 7.11, 188.28, not to mention a couple of nasty high speed spills.

As you can see, I haven't brought up the annual Friday night bash at the Double Tree. I've written on it before, and it continues to grow. Everyone from Linda Vaughn and Richard Tharp to Wally Parks and Chris Karamesines were in the main hall carrying on. Outside, there were the usual fireworks from a select number of race cars.

In all of this, there wasn't a hint of official hassle. No overwhelming police presence. None of that irritating but necessary corporate brown-nosing. (I swear during the season some of it gets so bad that a few of the racers and officials are in danger of violating state sodomy laws). The Automobile Club of Southern California was the sponsor and they handled the event well. None of the constant oversell. Funny Car racer and all-around good guy Gary Densham brought a display car and, save for CEO Tom McKernan's welcome in the program and a few discrete banners, that was it. As a result of their handling of the Reunion, my mother and I became members. Now, let me get off my knees and wrap this up.

The atmosphere at the annual California Hot Rod Reunion obviously falls within my own parameters of what constitutes fun. Certainly, I can't mention the prostitutes and drugs, but everyone has their own definition. For myself, the Vipers, and what I would guess was a record crowd (on Saturday pit parking was full from the Gate 1 entry to right in front of our campsite), the California Reunion fills the bill. To quote the graffiti in one of the men's rooms at the hotel, "I Shall Return."

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