Reciprocity is when one state reports traffic violations to another, making getting a ticket away from home just as painful to your license. With no hard facts, I convince myself that this does not exist in Canada. Apparently, everyone is driving under this belief. The caravan we are cruising with has everything from a Bentley GT to a Mitsubishi Evo and we are all sitting at over 100mph.
Our mid-day stop is Windsor Canada, just across the river from the Motor City. But we are not there, yet. Instead, we are desperately searching for gas with a higher octane than 87 (Vette requires at least 91). It’s no surprise that when we finally roll up to the Casino for lunch, we are one of the last cars. The lesson learned is don’t loose time getting fuel, taking a piss, grabbing a snack or anything else that ain’t speeding.
“Welcome to Windsor, I love your car,” says a local woman as I pop the hatch on the Z06. Aren’t those Canadians so friendly? And today they are out in force, local news crews, little kids asking for autographs, young and old car heads and a handful of hot chicks working for Red Bull.
“You got 15 minutes to eat,” explains one of the Bullrun staffers. “We are getting a police escort to the border. You don’t want to miss it.” It’s ironic that the same police who were chasing us down the 403 now want to provide escort so we can skip the traffic, or maybe they just want us the eff out of their country? Either way, this is a good thing because our British photog Tony Harmer forgot to renew his greencard…ooops!
Ben is back behind the wheel, and my 6’8” self is folded like origami to fit in the passenger seat. It’s about 300 miles to the House of Blues in Chicago, our final stop for the day. But before that, we gotta run the gauntlet through Michigan. “Yo B, the cops are everywhere,” yells Hassan Johnson (Wee-Bey on HBO’s The Wire) out of his Audi A8. With no exaggeration, the entire police force is out. There are troopers posted up at every overpass and Bullrunners pulled over every few miles. Our boys in the yellow Lambo that got pegged last night into Toronto are on the side of the road again. Oh well, time to just cruise… It occurs to us that we are making good time, since more than half of the fast cars out front have been pulled over. “My conservative driving might actually get us there first,” boasts Ben. But we both forget the lesson learned, and almost run out of gas. We still arrive number 28 or something out of the 60-plus cars left —a few have broken down, some had to skip Canada for “immigration problems” and rumor is a Lambo was impounded… I think everyone needs a drink, good thing Chi-town serves ‘til five. Jager shots anyone?
