Ahhh, I can see it now, one driving, fixed wild-eyed stare like the
motorcyclist in the Gumball Rally, and the other catching ZZZs in the
passenger seat, head rolled back with spittle flying off into the
slipstream. This is could be the start of a Spridget legend that will be
told in hushed tones for years to come. (Or a small footnote in the police
blotter).
Glen
> Let's get realllly stooopid - If you're going solo and
> I'm not racing the weekend before, I'll fly out and
> drive it with you. Peter can pick up my street Bugeye
> and drive it to LOTO, Peter and I drive home in my
> car. The silly patches seem to have worked, so smoke
> breaks won't even be necessary. Unless I can figure
> out how to keep them lit by then.
>
> Ron
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