“Sir, your Vette is blocking everyone in,” states an anonymous voice on the phone. It’s 7 AM, and there is still a hint of inebriation taxing my coordination. The Bullrun pre-party kept many of us rally runners running way into the morning, fueled on ten buck libations courtesy of the Gansevoort Hotel. The voice lied, but the Corvette Z06 that RIDES Magazine is entering in this year’s Bullrun—a NY to LA rally—must be in Times Square by 8 AM. We leave the hotel and are off to NY’s greatest tourist trap, twenty blocks away.
My co-driver doesn’t have a clue what he is in for. You see, I’ve done this a few times before; Gumball 3000, Cannonball Baker One Lap, and a few just for-fun runs, too. There will be a grip of tickets to pay, possibly some arrests and hopefully not too many impounds. We drive up Eighth Avenue at a conservative 90mph. A white Lambo sticks close behind. When we get to 45th, Broadway is already packed, The street has been closed for the start of the rally.
Mario Andretti tears off leading the pack, and one by one we are handed route cards. Yeah, while we know that our final destination is the City of Angels, each day we have different stops. Right now, we are gunning to Pocono Raceway for a lap on the NASCAR oval. Ben has a shortcut that works out brilliantly; he is also proving to be quite the look out. Which is good, ‘cause the black Lambo I am running with insists on us averaging 120mph…
As the seventh to line up on the starting grid, I gotta admit, I am feeling good, we left mid pack and finished in the top ten. But we did have the home-court advantage. The Raceway is filled with gaudy graphic t-shirts and missing teeth. Unfortunately, it is pouring…so our NASCAR moment is slow and boring.
Back on the road, my co-driver takes the wheel, then takes a 96 in a 65. “You’re the second fastest of the day,” says the NY State Trooper. I am not gonna say he began to drive more conservative, but I will admit to falling asleep on the way to Canada. Tonight we are headed to Toronto, I am looking forward to taking the wheel in America Junior. And so is the Yellow Murciélago following behind. We cut and dice like that famous kitchen knife for almost 100 miles, and then poof, the Lambo is gone. He got picked five miles from the hotel, Guess I owe them a beer… Speaking of beer, it’s time to hit up the club. We all VIP, tonight.