Demonic Details

Having fixed up most of the important stuff, (new roll cage bar, new numbers) we've started working on the little things. Little awesome things. Aaron took the time to meticulously tape off the cow on our road sign hood scoop.


Dave bent it into shape using only the finest tools available. Solidly done gentlemen. We've also got glowing eyes!


We also replaced our speedometer cable, since it was completely melted in the last race. Here's a video of us testing it out:



Sadly, the cable didn't work, but still fun for me. Is it November yet?

The Dark Lord is Pleased!

After a long day of taping, cutting, painting, drilling and bolting, our car is one step closer to being prepared. Our new teammate, Aaron, has met the instrument of his destruction. Final preparation for doomsday has begun.

Mega Picture Post!

By request, here's the big picture post. These pics are from all over. Some of them are mine, some are my folks', some are Gabe's, some were done by the professionals at the course, and some of them I just dug up online. For the most part they're in reverse chronological order. That's the way blogspot set them and I'm too lazy to go through and reverse it all now.

Great Success!

Maybe you haven't heard. Maybe you live under a rock and haven't been around us talking about it non-stop since. We made it! We drove over the river, through the woods, and into the Nevada desert which is bleak like the antechamber of hell:

We were pleased upon arrival to discover that the other team had thoughtfully set aside some prime pit real estate to receive us. So both cars were offloaded to prepare for tech:


<= I Wanna Roc













Huey Newis and the Lose =>

Both cars were frantically prepared, and passed tech with a minimum of trouble. (Minimum being "lets Sawsall a hole in our hood so the air cleaner fits", or "why doesn't our fan work?") The Huey Newis team's bribe was excellent, so they received no penalty laps. Ours was a bit rockier. We were awarded six penalty laps for a new serpentine belt, headers, and a new radiator. (Confusing since the radiator isn't new and has marks on it from hitting rocks, animals and possibly orphans.) Our case was strongly advanced by Ben from the other team who helpfully informed the judges that our 305 was actually a 350, and that our rear end was positrac. (Editor's note: both claims are false.) Having assured our entry into the competition, we suited up and managed a trifling few practice laps before the end of the day.

The morning of the 23rd, we hustled to the drivers' meeting and rushed our car to the starting line. Sixth from pole position! Awesome! Racing was happening! Both teams were racking up laps in a hurry, and things looked bright for our LeMons future.

Then both cars broke:



















We were a handful of laps quicker to break and thus were losing to the other team. This being a shame we could not bear, we threw ourselves into the task of fixing the car. Our car had tried to destroy itself with Pat along for the ride. One side of our exhaust was dangling, our transmission mount was in pieces, and we had a delightful knocking sound.

See that bright spot? =>

That's where our oil pan got slammed by one of our steering bars and was rubbing on the crank. It took all five of us five hours and a borrowed block of wood to make it right.



In this case, the best way to fix the car was to get a bigger hammer. Here's Mike pounding that dent back out so we could put the oil pan back on the car:


It took us the rest of day one to do it, but we fixed the car. Didi (our car) was ready to rock again! It was a ton of work and we all did what we could, but we couldn't have done it without our mechanic/crew chief Dave:

Thanks Dave! We're putting you in the drivers seat next time!

We took a victory lap around the paddock. Meanwhile, the Huey Newis team continued to do everything they could for their ailing stallion:


During the night Pat and Dave added red eyes, and white teeth to our car. It looks scarier and
hungrier than ever. The next morning we scrambled to the starting line ahead of almost everyone else to make up all the time we could. I hadn't gotten to drive the day before, so this was my first experience actually racing. I was excited, I was terrified, and I was certain that this was the most epic thing I had ever done. I was finally a race car driver!


The car ran like a champ and we were completing laps like pros.

We netted only three black flags. Pat got one for being too awesome and putting two wheels off track. I got one for failing to corner properly and putting all the wheels off track. Mike earned his via brake failure. He struck two other cars and went careening off into the sunset. (Or the desert, whatever.) We all got to drive at least twice through out the weekend. The Huey Newis team did get their car running for a while and chalked up a few more laps.


Kudos guys, especially you Ben.

The final results. We lost bad. We didn't give up though. We pulled off an epic fix and managed a full day of racing afterward. We're already prepping for the next race. See you at Thunderhill!

Crisis Adverted... For Now

You gotta love surprises, right? I mean they are supposed to be fun and whimsical; alleviate tension and improve your state of being to a much happier and joyous state.

Not when there are 3 days left until a race...

So you know those wheels that came with the Camaro, the ones that are supposed to be 16"? Oh yeah, they aren't. Don't worry though, there is no way to measure their actual diameter until you have purchased a small country's GDP worth of racing tires and you go to mount them. Thanks a lot GM, you guys are swell.

Luckily Pat was able to use his internet ninja skills and found us a second set, a backup set if you will, of wheels from Craigslist about a month ago. Looks like the B set is being called up to the big dance.

Unless we can find another 16" rim we are going to be running at Reno without a spare. That's just asking for trouble.

I'm pretty sure this car is going to kill me.

It's Alive, IT'S ALIVE!

Just a quick update before we get back to the more than 30 point checklist of things we must complete by Thursday.

After spending a couple of restless days and nights talking to local mechanics and GM dealerships we (and by "we" I of course mean mainly Dave) were pretty much convinced that in order to resurrect this heap we needed to perform some major surgery on the Vehicle Anti-Theft System (VATS) which included bypassing the PASS-Key system with some Radio Shack resistors. We also had seriously considered, for a brief moment, ripping out the TBI system and bolting on a carburetor or pulling the wiring harness and finding a new one. But cooler heads prevailed when we found this little guy:

Now I'm by no means a certified GM mechanic, but somehow I think the cut power wire to the VATS fuse might be important...

America, FUCK YEAH!

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back...

Good news everyone, the exhaust is 90% complete. After realizing my crucial mistake regarding the new and apparently necessary exhaust rules I have been hard at work chopping and welding my way through the scrap and fabricating a new exhaust. After the smoke cleared and I made sure that I wasn't on fire, we are now running DUAL EXHAUST!



As I was installing the new exhaust I realized several things:

1. I CAN WELD! I'm like the Fabio of welding. Flock to me women! Flock!
2. I am not a good welder and any attempts on my part to inflate my skills should be promptly responded to by a slide show of these welds.
3. We still need "professional exhaust hangers", whatever that means

While I still was basking in the glory of my accomplishment, Pat suggests to fire up the motor and hear how awesome it sounds. Sure, no problem. The engine issue as you might remember was solved like a month ago when Eric and Pat came over and performed a Voodoo ritual to get the beast to run. I hop in the car and turn the key - the wipers start moving back and forth but nothing close to resembling turning over an engine happens... this can't be a good sign. I depress the clutch and try again with the same result.

You have got to be kidding me. 12 days until we are supposed to load this bastard on the trailer and haul it to Fernley and it stops working?! And why in God's name are the WIPERS in the on position when the car is supposed to be running?! Is that car code for screw you?

Anyone got a good exorcist on speed dial?

Oh God, What Have I Done?!

Did you know that you can update your blog via SMS? This does not bode well for my productivity.

A Minor Setback

For those of you who aren't fortunate enough to be an ultra-exclusive member of the 24 Hours of Lemons spam mailing list, there have been some recent changes to the rules by which all teams must abide. Before going into detail on what these rule changes are and how they affect our team, I thought I might provide some background. At the most recent 24 Hours of Lemons event in Kershaw, SC, a group of entrepreneurial racers named The Kudzu Kommandos were racing their barely safe to operate BMW E30 and by all accounts were doing rather decent... until their car was engulfed in flames. While the Kommandos try to explain the cause for their eventual demise, a picture is worth a thousand words:
Fortunately no Kudzu's were injured or killed after their car caught fire because they had their engine exhaust pointing directly at their gas tank which ignited the fuel in the tank. Wow, nice goin' there Scooter. While I can't really understand what the events were that led to this ultimate conclusion nor pass judgement on their decision flow chart, this brings two things into perspective for anyone deciding to participate in semi-competitive racing.

1. Racing is inherently dangerous, especially when you are racing in vehicles with sorted pasts and the mechanics working on them have less than professional experience. Yes we make the vehicles as safe as we can, but accidents that cannot be planned for can and will happen on the track.
2. Now we have to abide by new, mandatory, rules that try and protect us from our idiot selves.

Now back to the most important thing in this post - how this affects us. While those cool kats down South were finding out that fire, an important technological breakthrough for mankind that gave rise to civilization as we know it today, has no place in the cab of your race car, we at I Wanna Roc have been working to bring our car up to spec for the race in Fernley. Unbenounced to us (and by us I of course mean me), the exhaust that I had so cleverly devised and fabricated for our team to meet the noise restrictions for the race (92 dB @ 50') is now entirely and completely useless.

Exhibit A:

While our exhaust does not route or point in any way, shape, or form close to anything explosive - like fuel lines - the fact that our exhaust dumps below the driver was an issue that I did not take into consideration. I now quote what I have dubbed "KEEPING YOUR FOOL ASS ALIVE" rule 3.24.1:

"The exhaust system may not dump ahead of the driver and
must not allow undue levels of exhaust to reach the driver's compartment."

Whoops, my bad. Now where did I put that Sawzall?

If There's One Thing I Learned About Money and Time, It's That They Never Run Out!

It's interesting how expenses and time, much like the Ultimate Warrior, seems grab you and gorilla press slam you back into the stone age. You and I both know that at some moment you watched professional wrestling. I mean, how could you not? It was AWESOME!

Seriously though, we have entered crunch time here at Team I Wanna Roc. With only 32 days left until the race it is becoming quickly apparent that we have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it. Here's a short list of what we have to complete by May 22nd:

• Install the roll cage
• Fabricate and install dash and instrument cluster
• Reroute battery location
• Install electrical system kill switch
• Install seat bracket, seat, and harness
• Patch holes in firewall
• Reroute and install remaining portion of the exhaust (glasspack, muffler, etc)
• Install fire extinguisher/fire suppression system
• Install front brake pads
• Buy and mount racing tires
• Route cooling ducts for rotors

When you write it all down it becomes very real. Luckily we have been working diligently on ordering and finding parts and should begin working on the car full throttle in the coming weeks. A great source of used parts and other things that a budget race team needs is Craigslist. It is pretty amazing what you can find if you do a little homework and you can deal with what we have coined as the "flake factor" of many Craigslist posters. In my search for a Corbeau racing seat, not once but twice seats were sold right out from under me before I could make it out to see them. Often times you will only get a response from 50% of the ads you inquire about. And probably the most frustrating part of Craigslist is the lack of basic communication skills or knowledge regarding the items that they are selling. With all that being said, the simple fact remains that I was able to find, over the course of a couple weeks and several dozen emails, a used Corbeau racing seat and seat bracket that fit our vehicle for only $75 (which is a steal when compared to buying new would have cost us $400+).

Another thing that we have been working on for the last couple of weeks has been tracing and cleaning up our electrical system. As those of you who drive know, more often than not when you car goes down for the count it has to do with something in the electrical system. Bad connection, faulty wires, blown fuses, damaged relay, etc. So with our "crew chief" David and some schematics of the wiring diagrams for a 1989 IROC-Z Camaro, we have been systematically testing, removing, and re-soldering the wiring in the car. I may or may not have grabbed the business end of the soldering iron while working on the car at some point and suffered some 2nd degree burns. Thankfully only 3/5ths of the team was there to watch me humiliate myself.

Another fun fact about buying used vehicles: People are stupid. To say that we ripped out a 5 gallon bucket's worth of wires from inside the car would not be an understatement. Furthermore, while it is common knowledge that duct tape might hold the universe together, do not for any reason use it to cover electrical connections. It has a tendency to turn very, very sticky when say, oh I don't know, electrical current is running through the wires it is covering. Seriously, electrical tape is like $0.50 at the dollar store, its used for a reason.

Other team members have also been working on the car. Eric and Pat came over one day and magically found the reason why the car wasn't running after our first round of working on the engine. I say "magically" because no one really knows what was done to get the car fired up and no one is really sure that it won't die again. It's the first rule we all learned at magicians camp - never reveal the trick.

Curtis has also been hard at work getting this hunk of Detroit iron running. Just look at him dive into attaching the exhaust manifolds. Sorry ladies, he's already taken.

In other news, some tactful negotiations have been underway between teams I Wanna Roc and Huey Newis and the Lose. With an unprecedented move by any team in the history of Lemons racing, an agreement has been struck between these two bitter rivals that may shake the racing world to its core. Should one team's vehicle be rendered inoperable to the point that they can no longer continue racing, they will be allowed to join the other team and finish out the weekend. Furthermore, the stranded team must listen to the other teams' music the rest of the weekend without complaint no matter how much Phil Collins' music rapes your ears and kills kittens.

Damn I'm getting excited for this race.

WE'RE IN!

May God have mercy on your yuppie soul!

And There Was Silence in the House of Judgment.

The day of reckoning is upon us and Team I Wanna Roc awaits their fate to be decided. Does their righteous campaign against all that is Huey Newis and The Lose continue or will the judges at 24 Hours of LeMons deny them their destiny? Only time will tell. In the mean time they offer their acceptance letter for all to behold and leave no doubt lingering about their rightful claim to race at Reno-Fernley.

What two things gets a man's blood pumping and adrenaline coursing through his veins? The obvious, albeit wrong, answers are moderate exercise and a hypodermic needle plunged into your heart a la Nicolas Cage in “The Rock”. Let's be honest though, who in their right minds would want to exercise when God so fittingly gave us the V-8 engine? And have you seen a hypodermic needle?! Actually that is awesomely brutal so we'll keep that one. The correct answers to the question are as follows: white knuckling around a track in an automobile with a less-than-stellar record for fatalities stemming from seat belt failures and heavy metal.

Now hold on there Poindexter, we're not talking chemistry or alchemy here. What we are talking about is the trifecta of speed, power, and precision; power cords and high levels of distortion; devil horns and air guitars. In the immortal words of Twisted Sister's frontman Dee Snider, “If it ain't metal, it's crap!” And we can think of no place better to showcase the flawless blending of a veritable vehicular mosh pit with shredding guitar solos than 24 Hours of LeMons. Just like you, we fight our battles with power and steel. We fight not for ideology or money, rather we test our mettle with metal – metal that's real. It is what makes us unique, different; it's what makes us Brothers of Metal. When others have succumbed to the evils of this world – easy listening, uninspired, pretentious, yuppie music – there need to be people who are still willing to believe in things greater than themselves such as big, epic metal that is drenched with crushing guitars and brutal lyrics. We are not the prophets of this doctrine, just merely its disciples.

The mosh pit is a whirling no-man's-land of flying bodies and testosterone run amok. Many have spent a good deal of their youth running around in circles, bumping into fellow frustrated, disenfranchised boys. It's a place where a wayward elbow around the face rewards you with a black eye, a trophy, that immediately gains you the respect and admiration of surrounding "moshers". Is 24 Hours of LeMons not just a grown-up mosh pit? We want to race not to deal out damage to our fellow racers; rather, to capture that feeling we felt as youths. It's the reason we entered that mosh pit and continued to get up every time we were knocked down – to be equals, to be masters of our universe. We only wish to once again enter a whirling no-man's-land of flying bodies and testosterone run amok... with vehicles unfit for operation on major public roadways.

If there was still any lingering doubt about our legitimate claim to be counted among the other death proof road warriors, we offer up this next point for consideration: we know the dweebs on Huey Newis and the Lose, we have been friends with them since college. While we're not proud of that by any means, what we do know is that they are a bunch of panty-waisted sissies that spend their time drinking Bartles & Jaymes Fuzzy Navels and listening to Abba or Phil Collins or some sort of easy-listening 80's garbage. We hear they are especially fond of keyboard guitars, which in itself should disqualify them from competition. But our goal is to not bring to light the inherent effeminate nature of The Lose, thus obliging you as Racing Gods to re-evaluate their license to race the sacred pavement of LeMons. Rather we postulate that such a prestigious racing event such as LeMons deserves to have the 80's represented by a team whose music is actually good and a vehicle that was, nay is, the epitome of perfection – a Chevrolet IROC-Z Camaro. While the credentials of our IROC more than certainly cannot be verified, the simple fact still remains that Autograph's “Turn Up the Radio” still commands our obedience 25 years after originally rocking our tape decks. Try saying that about “Against All Odds” or some other crap. We are well aware of the claims by The Lose that the IROC's fuel injected engine is woefully underpowered when compared to a Mustang GT's carbureted engine. But when you consider the fact that they made the point to bring that up you can't help but feel sorry for them. Plus I hear that California Highway Patrol officers are jealous of our sweet ride and if you wash and wax your ride everyday, like the stealth bomber, cops can't catch you on radar.

So we put it now to the Potentates of the Pavement. While being accepted to a 24 Hours of LeMons event by no means guarantees any actual racing takes place, justice surely demands that we be granted admittance into the inner sanctum if for no other reason than to provide sanity saving heavy metal to counter the ear-raping music of those pink and blue-gray bastards. Fortunately for you as spectators and judges of racing prowess, there's nothing like bringing in another team to provide an old fashioned, grudge driven rivalry. This is not merely a rivalry based on what kind of car they are driving method of fuel delivery; this is a rivalry based on everything about who the members of Huey Newis and the Lose are and what they represent. We humbly request that you allow us the opportunity to restore the balance to the tour de force that is 24 Hours of LeMons or at the very least flip off our friends as we lap their sorry asses.

That's What She Said

The past couple of weeks have seen slow and steady progress on the Camaro, but first some team announcements.

We have recruited the metal mashing talents of newcomer Curtis Williford to improve our driver pool to a grand total of 3 idiots who will strap themselves into this mechanized meatgrinder. Curtis also brings professional welding experience to the team which effectively relieves me of the duty of installing our roll cage. While my motto in life has been, "Safety Third," we now lessen our risk of parts of our cage falling off mid-race. I am informed by several parties that this is a good thing. Who are you sissys, OSHA? In other news my brother Dave Fassio has signed on as a crew member to help out with push starting. He is the only crew member which automatically volunteers him to be strapped on to the hood of our vehicle with a squeegee should we need windshield wipers or handed a length of rope and told to, "hang on," to provide us with an appropriate amount of counter-weight to reduce our oversteer. He also is slightly mechanically inclined which might come in handy when we need to extract The Lose's bumper from our grill. Welcome to the team gentlemen and no your deposits are not refundable.

Didi has been undergoing some major surgery in order to get herself into condition for the upcoming Goin' for Broken race in Fernley, NV. While I have been slacking on the taking of pictures to document our epic transformation of this sweet piece of GM engineering, I offer up a simple list of what we have accomplished the past couple of weeks:

• New spark plugs and spark plug wires
• Flushed and bled brake lines
  
• Removed stock exhaust manifolds
• Sawzall'd old exhaust out, put into backyard as a tribute to hillbillies
  
• Replaced rear brake shoes
• Drained rear differential, new gasket and gear oil
• Engine oil change and new filter

While we wait for the judges at 24 Hours of Lemons to grant our request to race in May, we are delaying our purchasing and installing of the roll cage, seat, harness, tires and personal safety equipment. With that being said however, there are some significant challenges that we face in getting this car going:

1. Sort out electrical system and mount necessary components securely in the cabin
2. Repair and install exhaust manifolds
3. Fabricate and install exhaust (either individual side dumps or y-pipe to side dump)
4. Fabricate and install dash
   
5. Install instrument cluster and electrical killswitch
6. Flush and bleed power steering system (engine needs to run to do this)
   
7. Flush and drain cooling system (engine needs to run to do this)
8. Fabricate cold(er) air intake (several options are being considered)
   
9. Diagnose and fix engine electrical problem (currently the engine doesn't want to fire up)

By no means is our work done and let us hope that in the coming weeks we can return our tires to the pavement and complete some sweet burnouts to leave us satisfied and smiling - that's what she said.

Work Day 1: The Aftermath

After awaking from my exhaustion induced slumber Friday morning I decided to cancel my sub job that afternoon. Working the hours I do and remembering that Friday was to be a work day on the car, I made the executive decision that Tracy Unified would have to do without their video attendant/babysitter for an afternoon and I could catch up on some chores before Eric arrived later. Suddenly my phone rings and it is Eric on the line informing me that he is leaving San Jose post-haste and will be arriving in Tracy within the hour. Eric, being a legitimate adult with a job, I assumed meant the work day for the car would have been after he got off work on Friday. Clearly I was mistaken. 11:30 am - as good enough time as any to start drinking wrenching on the car.

With no specific plan in place as to what we wanted to accomplish, Eric and I set out survey the mechanical landscape and come to a consensus on what sort of bullshit we could strip off our bitchin' IROC. Clearly the rear hatch glass had to go and it did with nary a problem.



Then we moved to the engine compartment. We all remember vividly the wild bucking and smoke from our Cannonball Run from Alameda to Tracy whose cause had yet to be determined. Speculation was high that it was a fuel problem, but with any vehicle 80% of the problems typically are electrical. We both decide that the emissions control crap that California forces our great American car companies to install certainly has no place in such a sweet machine. Let's not worry about the issues experienced on 580 until we get the car back on terra firma. Hold on, something is amiss. What could this be? We're no mechanical geniuses, but certainly that doesn't look normal (see below).



You might have noticed that the electrical component had melted to the very emissions control device that we had previously decided to remove. Thanks environmentalists.

With the cause of our malfunction somewhat determined we turned our attention back to the task at hand. While the events of our day were varied we dare not bore you with the mundane details. Here's a recap of what we accomplished:

• Removed rear hatch glass and struts
• Diagnosed/fixed the brake lights issue
• Went to Sears, bought some more tools
  
• Removed spark plug wires and spark plugs. There was oil on the plugs which indicates either worn piston rings or valve seals, neither of which we plan on fixing
• Removed AIR system
• Removed A/C compressor
• Removed AIR/Smog pump

For next weekend we hope to accomplish the following:

• Replace front brake pads
• Flush out diarrhea brake fluid with clean fluid, bleed system
  
• Check/replace master cylinder fluid, bleed system
• Check/replace power steering fluid
• Change engine oil and filter
• Replace spark plug wires and spark plugs
• Try and figure out why our transmission only has 4 out of 5 gears (maybe)
  
• Revisit exhaust manifolds and work on dual exhaust (maybe)
  

Boom, You've Just Been Mechanic'd

Last weekend, although not a working on the car weekend, did have some fringe benefits to Team I Wanna Roc. As you all might have noticed it was President's Day (which for those of you born before the mid 90's might recall used to be called Washington's Birthday) and there is always a good deal if you look for one. Of course by look I mean cannot avoid the constant barrage of multimedia advertising that only serves to perpetuate the materialistic society which we have created, but I digress. Sears was running their President's Day Weekend Sale and most if not all Craftsman Tools were on sale. I always tell myself that I'm just going to look, not to buy, just look and every time I let myself down. Needless to say that the tool chest of Team I Wanna Roc is looking much more respectable, organized, and portable. I am both proud and ashamed of myself.



Fast forward to Wednesday - I didn't have to work today so I figured I'd get to start wrenching on Didi today. Oh yeah, I named the car Didi. Don't like the name? Screw you, you haven't had to strap your ass into this deathtrap yet. I don't know about you, but I want to know the name of my eventual demise. Moving on, I decided that trying to tackle the rats nest of wires and electronically controlled fuel injection wasn't a job to try alone. I mean who would I have to blame if and when the car stopped working? Surveying the landscape I decided on removing the seat and window glass since it is obvious that we won't be needing those for where this car is going.

Although it is common knowledge, it still never ceases to amaze me that an American automobile is comprised of metric bolts. What is the purpose of insisting on holding to Standard units of measurement (inch, pound, gallon) if we can't even keep metric out of our sweet American classics?! I demand an explanation for this shenaniganry.

It felt good to pick up a wrench and take a vehicle apart piece by piece. I haven't been in possession of a vehicle that needed almost daily TLC to keep her afloat for a while, so having a LeMons car is quite the treat. The best part about it is that I can actually smack the crap out of this thing and not actually worry. Sure I try to be precise and thoughtful, but dammit I just bought a 15 piece punch and cold chisel set and I'm gonna use it. As with any project you need to pick up a service manual or at the very least a Chilton's/Haynes guide for your year, make, and model vehicle. They are an invaluable resource of tiny, almost indistinguishable graphics and drawings. Nothing could be simpler than trying to decipher black and white photos of engine compartments or transmission cross sections. Where these beauties really shine though is in the step-by-step (day-by-day) instructions on how to deconstruct/demolish virtually any portion of your car. They of course assume that you have a garage full of tools at your disposal which can be annoying, but this is LeMons so hand me the ball-peen hammer and the pry bar - no the other, bigger one.

Deconstructing the doors was a fairly straight forward task - couple of bolts here, knock out some pins there. Then I get to the part where I'm supposed to use a 1/4" drill bit to drill out the rivets holding the window glass to the window frame. I am first shocked by the sudden reappearance of standard units of measure. What, they don't have drill bits in Europe? Then I realize that I fail to own a drill or drill bits, oh fate you are a cruel mistress. No problem, just have to find a way to bust the rivets on glass to get it out of the door, shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes for a skilled professional such as myself find a solution. 20 minutes later I am swearing at the f-ing door and seriously considering ripping it apart to show it who's boss, but then realize that I own no welder to fix my tantrum induced destruction. Maybe it was the High Life in a can or divine inspiration, but I suddenly realized that I only had to snap the splayed ends of the rivets off and then use a punch to pop the rivets out. BRILLIANT! Quickly I locate some pliers to snap those bastards off and then carefully, oh so carefully, use a punch and hammer to pop out the rivets. I think the pictures speak for themselves on my mechanical prowess:



Original Third-Generation Camaro window parts and glass for sale/trade.

It Was Going Too Well

It appears that Team Huey Newis and the Lose want their working garage back for stupid things like working on their 24 Hours of LeMons car. Selfish bastards. A temporary cease fire was negotiated by all parties and the garage was deemed a DMZ at least until we can get there and move our bitchin' IROC away from their Mustang. Some unconfirmed reports were coming in that vandalism and looting was going on in the absence of hostilities. Undeterred from our mission, there appeared to be several problems that we needed to overcome in order to accomplish this task:

1. Get the car running without having to push start. We all know that Sanka was the pushcart king of Jamaica, but dammit this is 'Merrica
   
2. Locate the keys to the vehicle.
   
3. Determine the new location for our car.
4. Find a way to transport this heap without drawing to ourselves and our obviously illegal activity.

Getting the car running was easy. I had to check out the battery by taking it down to the local Kragen auto parts store for a test. Out of 660 cold cranking amps (CCA) that a typical battery contains, ours was bringing 40 A to the fight. I'm pretty sure that the $8.50 per hour tech was silently judging me. Whatever. My second task was finding the keys. Apparently Eric did not leave them with the car. While I at first mocked my teammate for this, in hindsight I can only conclude that the decision to not leave the keys was an act of genius on his part. Who knows what those shysters on The Lose would have done had they been able to move the car. Finding a new home for the bitchin' IROC was just as simple of a fix as the first couple of problems. Of course I did have to clear it with the High Command, but I was given the GO for moving the camaro from Alameda to Tracy and specifically to our garage. Nice.

Now we get to the interesting part of our little story - how to move the camaro without drawing attention to ourselves. As with most 24 Hours of LeMons vehicles, aside from being held together by copious amounts of JB Weld, registration isn't exactly high on the priority list. This presents you with certain challenges when you need to move the car over public roads and the Highway Patrol are sticklers for silly things like proper tags or valid licence plates. It really is their own fault that they force people like us to break the law. In any event, our devious solution to this conundrum was to use the cover of darkness to hide our illicit activity and hope that Smoky wouldn't mind that we were East Bound and Down. Wait, most illicit activities happen at night? Damn, we thought we were original.

With our plan of attack now, well, planned all we needed to do was pick which one of us would be the unfortunate soul to strap our ass to this Acme deathmobile and risk injury and significant legal and personal humiliation should we be caught. Eric has a new car so the obvious choice was me. Oh goodie. Before embarking on our journey of certain peril we did a quick systems check.

• Lights = working
• Electric fan = working when we hardwired it to the battery
• Turn signal = non functional
• Mirrors = fine if you like driving by kaleidoscope
• Brake fluid = can diarrhea be considered an accurate description of color?
  
• Seat and seat belt = not affixed securely and non-existent (in that order)
  
• Firewall and general structural integrity = I'm feeling less confident on my chances of survival. I reassure myself by telling myself that chicks dig burns.

Without time to rethink this plan we set off into the night. The car is running. Strong. I might make it through this thing afterall. The good thing is that the white smoke described by Eric as "copious" has pleasantly subsided. On to 880, 238, and finally 580 and the car hasn't exploded or flames come shooting through the several gaping holes in the firewall and floorboard so things are looking up. With Eric running rear blocker confidence is high that we will not be discovered and the IROC impounded. Then suddenly there is a jolt. The car sputters then roars back to life. I instantly begin to plead with my newly named vehicle that she needs to hold on just a little longer. I know that she hasn't been driven on a freeway in a while and I apologize, profusely. She bucks again; she's not buying my commitment to my apologies. Shit, well now I guess I should try and cross several lanes of traffic without causing a pile up and eventually make it to an off ramp. She is not happy with me, not one bit. We had made it 30 of the 45 miles we needed to go before she called it quits.

Better call AAA I suppose to help us close this one. After reassuring the operator that I am not in mortal danger (now that I'm out of the vehicle) she drops this little gem, "It appears that your AAA account is inactive. I can give you the name of a tow company and you can pay them directly." "Hold on," I reply, "Let me get you on the line with a current AAA member - here Eric it's for you." The tow truck arrives and we cruise the last 15 miles to new home base. On the way over I tell the driver about our awesome plan and the only thing he has to say in response is, "You're driving an unregistered vehicle down 580 on Saturday night? Damn, that's ballsy."

Sorry The Lose, no eunuchs here.

Beginnings

Ahh, beginnings. Torn between the sheer unadulterated awesomeness of what we've embarked upon, and the monumental task which lies before us, I can only express my enthusiasm. Our chariot has been given form and substance. Behold the instrument of lesser vehicles' destruction:



No, not me or Eamon, but the herald of the apocalypse we accompany. This godly representation of our childhood ideals features such performance enhancers as:

1. A dead battery. (Push-starting is manly.)
2. No gauges. (Removed for weight reduction.)
3. An electric fan which the seller assures us will function if we "hook up these two wires."
4. Copious amounts of white smoke. (To keep our opponents from passing.)
5. A Chevy 305 with (if we're lucky) 185 horsepower.

Where is your god now?