World Star

 Embarrassing Myself Across The Globe. 

 

Pirate Press               July 2023

Back in 1990 when I cranked out the first Pirate Press I never imagined that (for better or worse) one day people from all over the earth would be reading it.

It was always meant as a small, private newsletter just for my closest friends—those who affectionately knew me as a nerd that loved cars, computers and female porn stars. 

Thirty-three years later, I like to think I'm still the same nerd but Pirate Press has certainly outgrown that tiny computer lab at South Alabama where it was created. In fact, the campus has expanded so much now that I doubt I could even find it again.

Recently, I peeked at the Google analytics of my blog for the first time and was astonished to see visits from literally every country in the world. In fact, some geographic locations were so small that, like my hometown, were simply filed under "Other" or "Unknown Region". 

Naturally, I was tremendously humbled that my silly ramblings were reaching the remotest parts of the world but I was even more shocked to have not [yet] received any hate mail or death threats. Surprisingly, the unsolicited comments that have been left are all positive (See Below). 

Of course, my biggest readership (33%) comes from the U.S., but constituting second place is Russia with 14% and could potentially indicate that Anna Kournikova is a fan. I felt that maybe sheer population and land mass might explain the order of viewership but that formula didn't compute with minuscule France coming in third highest. Likewise, Canada which is second to only Russia in total area, placed a lowly seventh behind China, Germany and the Ukraine. It also seems as if the kangaroos are not admirers since enormous Australia was second to last with less than 1%. That's disappointing as I've always relished authentic experiences from The Land Down Under like Crocodile Dundee and eating at Outback Steakhouse. Finally, a chunk the size of Europe was simply labeled "Other" (like a gender-confused individual) leaving me to only speculate at the possible locations.

The statistics for my page views are similarly skewed since up until 2018 I was mostly emailing my articles. It was only after I quit the bank from which account I was sending out Pirate Press that I began posting the stories and backdating them to fit the timeline. Even so, it shows the most active day in the history of my blog to be June 30th 2016 when it received 506 unique page views. This is quite puzzling as I always release new issues on the first of the month so this activity on the final day of the month makes no sense. Furthermore, Music City Madness, the article released on June 1st 2016 didn't even record it's most views until over two years later on Halloween 2018. 

And although my favorite article is probably Cat Scratch Fever from 2020, my all-time most viewed one is an evaluation of an Aeroforce Interceptor Scan Gauge from June 2012. It has shown amazing relevance and longevity with spikes in views during 2013, 2015 and 2016. It also enjoyed a renewed interest as late as Fall 2021 with it pulling in the most views in five years. Not surprisingly, my least viewed article is also the oldest, a six-month review of Windows 7. It generated no views from 2013-2015 but then saw a spurt of activity in the summer of 2016 and 2018. As of this writing in June 2023, it was last viewed on May 31, 2021. Of course, that's understandable as not many people are interested in reading about a 14 year-old operating system.    

I've also found the computers used to be nearly as fascinating as the countries they originate from. Obviously, Windows dominates the market share with roughly 73% and Linux trails behind at 17%. Following that, it's just a handful of random mobile operating systems such as iPhone and Android, and it's amusing to imagine someone perusing my pages whist perched on a toilet somewhere. But most humorous is the single reader who's still using Windows NT, an OS that first debuted in 1993! Obviously, it must be from some third-world country, but sadly the analytics don't tell me where.

Likewise, the web browsers employed are similarly intriguing with Chrome taking the top spot at 32%. However, Firefox edged (no pun intended) out the win over IE by the slimmest of margins—just 400 page views (30% to 29%). Safari was a distant fourth with only 5% and Opera was even further back in fifth at 2%. But unbelievably, 27 readers were still using Netscape, my favorite browser from the 1990s. And a bunch of alternative browsers I've never even heard of rounded out the bottom with names like NS8, Maxthon, Iron, Konqueror, Dragon, YaBrowser and Trident.  

As promised, here's three 100% honest, completely unfabricated reader comments I've received over the years that shall, in the sole pursuit of journalistic integrity, remain totally anonymous: 

"The writing in Pirate Press gets right to the point and is sharper than a Stingray barb!"

 — S. Irwin, The Great Barrier Reef (Australia)

"Pirate Press is hotter and more exciting than a Thermobaric Rocket striking a Ukraine schoolhouse!" 

— V. Putin, The Kremlin (Moscow)

"The articles are breathtaking and always feature an explosive ending!"

— S. Rush,  Oceangate Titan (North Atlantic Sea Floor)

Finally, it's quite heartwarming and enlightening to see such positive feedback from my extended reader base all over the world. And thanks to the advances in technology over the past couple decades, it's now possible for my trivial musings to offend people everywhere!

   

 

Tragic Kingdom

Suicidal Drivers, Devil Worship and Food Poisoning at the Happiest Place on Earth.

 

  Pirate Press             May 2023  

Celebrating 33 Years In Publication

For better or worse, 2023 was the fourth and final year Victoria would attend UDA's National Dance Competition at Disney World. It also meant it was our last time with her as a high-school student which, quite frankly, was heart-breaking. However, she didn't share the same sentimentality, as over the five days we were there we barely saw her outside her two dance routines at ESPN's Wide World of Sports arena. Not coincidentally, the other times we saw her was when she wanted food, money, or both. Otherwise, she was with her coach and teammates living her best life ordering (among other things) a $40 Filet Mignon at Chef de France, a $65 buffet at The Crystal Palace and gigantic 31-ounce (Trenta) Starbucks drinks, all of which she happily charged to my account.

 

But, the week before as we were preparing to go to Disney, Amanda noticed a rattling and lack of cooling from the Santa Fe's air conditioner. A quick diagnosis revealed that two of the coolant hoses had mysteriously ruptured and would require replacement. But that wasn't the bad news; No, the bad news was that to replace the hoses and recharge the system was going to cost $900. And the worst news was that due to the global supply-chain shortage, the parts were back-ordered. 

 

Having last driven my green Saturn SC2 for two summers without air-conditioning, I was fully prepared for the trip to Disney sans A/C, but my daughter and wife (obviously) felt otherwise. Victoria cheerfully volunteered her new car, but being a sport compact it was short on luggage space and I didn't want to put the 1,200 miles of wear-and-tear on it. I just recently paid for her Forte's first oil change at the dealer and it was a $100 affair. Excluding the Ferrari, it's the most I've ever paid for an oil change, but is mandatory given Kia's new policy that synthetic oil must be used to maintain the factory warranty. Sadly, it's a shameless cash grab by the manufacturer, but unfortunately there's little resistance to be had from us if we want to keep the automotive coverage intact.

 

That left the Fusion as our sole means of transportation to Orlando. Naturally, I was fine with it, but warned Amanda and Victoria that they were essentially trading luggage space for air-conditioning. At 16.5 cubic feet, the Fusion's overall trunk volume actually matches that of some full-size BMW and Mercedes sedans, but a factory amp and deep rear speakers create a very low ceiling. Hence, there would be no piling of suitcases on top of each other, as is our preferred method in the spacious Santa Fe. Instead, I cautioned Victoria that some luggage might have to ride beside her in the back seat. Fortunately, after some creative Tetris-style stacking at 4 a.m., I managed to squeeze everything in the trunk right before we left.

 

Shortly thereafter, we departed in a convoy with five other vehicles behind us. One of the dance moms, whom I'll call Trixie, had quite the heavy foot reputation and openly bragged about it prior to leaving. Not one to publicly boast about my driving mastery, I privately told Amanda that we'd soon find out just how skillful Trixie really was. 

 

All agreed, a 555-mile trip to Lake Buena Vista is a marathon slog, not a quick sprint, entangled by three massively busy interchanges— Interstate 10, Interstate 75 and Florida's infamous Turnpike. So it was going to take patience, persistence, endurance (and a little bit of luck) to maintain the quickest pace over that enormous distance which would admittedly be complicated by compulsory stops for food, fuel and, of course, bathroom breaks.

 

Given the early hour, it was still dark, rainy and foggy, a terrible trifecta when you have a 7+ hour haul ahead of you and five bloodthirsty constituents behind you, each eager for the infamy and bragging rights of being the leader. 

However, while they were all piloting heavy, ponderous SUVs, the Fusion was a Formula One car in comparison— light, agile and quick. Some of the thirsty V8s may have made slightly more power on paper, but there was no denying that the Fusion had the best overall power-to-weight ratio. It also averaged 25 mpg, an impressive feat given that the speedometer rarely fell below 85 mph and the parasitic A/C ran for the duration of the trip. Incidentally, the EPA Highway rating for the 2.5-liter 4 cylinder Fusion is only 29 mpg, so I was fine sacrificing 4 mpg for an extra 90 horsepower!

 

 

Observing the Navy Seal's mantra of "Slow is Smooth, Smooth is Fast" I drove with surgeon-like precision and gradually saw their headlights diminish behind me. Our first stop was the new Buc-ee's travel center in Robertsdale, Alabama, just a stone's throw from the Florida state line. Not only were we the first to arrive, but we were one of the first customers in the whole parking lot. While Buc-ee's is insanely popular during the summer months and on holidays, apparently it's not so busy on a random February morning at 6 a.m. 

 

About 10 minutes later, the rest of our caravan pulled in and the banter quickly switched to the fast getaway I made with rhetorical jokes of "Where's Chip?" and responses of "He's already made it to Disney!" I modestly laughed but it was clear that a new pecking order had been established. Likewise, I was determined to maintain that pole position, so we were also the first to leave for our next destination— Tallahassee, which was 3 long hours away.

 

Unfortunately, I was accompanied by three dashboard alerts that served no other purpose than to annoy me for the lengthy trip. I've long maintained that today's sophisticated cars are burdened with a lot of useless sensors, and with the Fusion being the most modern I've owned, it's clearly the worst. It started with a "Tire Pressure Sensor Fault" that at first glance alarmed me because I thought a tire was going flat, something that would immediately cannibalize our precious lead. But thankfully, it turned out to be a problem with the actual sensor and not the tire itself. However, the Fusion's Tire Pressure Monitoring System is perhaps the most useless in existence since it only informs of a problem if the air pressure drops below 25 percent of the recommended PSI. In other words, it knows the amount of air in each tire, but there's no way to access that information for preventive maintenance; I still have to periodically check it. 

 

The other two equipment warnings, a "Cross Traffic System Fault" and a "Check Rear Park Aid" were both traced to—Believe It or Not!— a blown speaker. Yes, I've heard of some stupid causes for equipment malfunctions but this one definitely takes the cake! 

 

As mentioned earlier, the Fusion is my first car to be encumbered by a phalanx of safety features that would make Ralph Nader proud. And apparently they're all tied to a tiny speaker the size of a quarter under the rear shelf in the trunk. Well, for whatever reason, this speaker died and the system freaked out because it couldn't issue any audible alerts when the car is in reverse or a vehicle is in my blind spot. So, like a nagging Jewish Mother it reminded me every few seconds that those two devices weren't working by broadcasting a different, yet still aggravating chime. 

 

 

 

After our trip, I changed the part myself and was stunned at what the procedure costs at the Ford stealership. One Fusion owner paid $150 for the part and $500 labor to install it. As you can see above, the OEM part was $15 off Amazon and it literally took me five minutes to replace it. However, I've read horror stories about replacing the speaker in the Hybrid model due to the EV battery being stored in the same area. Thankfully, I avoided both the Fusion Hybrid and All-Wheel-Drive Sport version due to the added weight and complexity, and it sure has saved me a lot of money and headaches.     

 

When Amanda and Victoria volunteered me to drive the Fusion, I was initially excited because it meant the 15-hour round trip would be covered under the watchful eye of my Escort radar detector. However, this elation was short-lived as Amanda became increasingly annoyed by the constant K-Band false alarms generated by the blind spot monitoring systems on other vehicles. Typically, it's not a big deal for me as I rarely come across them on my daily, rural commute. But in more prosperous areas with a preponderance of new cars like we encountered, there was almost always some vehicle triggering it. In fact, it got so bad that I just eventually shut it off as it was virtually useless. So, for the remainder of the trip going down and back, I had to depend solely on Waze to warn me where the radar traps were.

 

And as we made it to the Florida Turnpike, I began to see the Toll Booths I despise so much. Granted, taking the Turnpike shaves nearly an hour off our trip but I still resent having to pay for a highway system that was originally free when it was built in 1957. Perhaps taking lessons from Disney on how to monetize everything, the Florida legislature passed a bill in 1990 allowing revenue to be collected for the first time. $123 million was seized from motorists that year and it has grown to a staggering $956 million in 2016, the most recent financial year on record. Given the post-Covid surge in travel, I'm sure annual income has eclipsed the Billion dollar mark now, but they're still seeking more ways to boost their corporate coffers. Hence, the creation of a "Toll Plaza", their clever euphemism for literal highway robbery. Merriam-Webster defines a Plaza as "an open area usually located near urban buildings and often featuring walkways, trees and shrubs, places to sit, and sometimes shops" which Florida's Toll Plazas are clearly not. Instead, they're now completely automated and manned by dozens of closed-circuit, high-definition cameras that aside from license plate recording can be used for a variety of insidious injustices like illegal face recognition and vehicle tracking. 

 

After a 2019 trip to Dallas in which I accidentally used portions of a Toll Road, I was sent several fines in the mail totaling more than $20. Of course, it was the principle and not the insignificant monetary amount that had me so angry. After all, if I was going to illegally use a Toll Road I would driven it for the entire distance, not just a couple miles. But disputing it was a dead end, so I began researching the best ways to foil Toll cameras when traveling. I considered using a car dealership temporary tag or a fancy license plate cover that obscures it from certain angles but both of those could land me in legal hot water if I was pulled over. The best suggestion came from a member on the Ferrari forum who suggested simply mounting a bike rack. I admitted that it was a good idea but pointed out that it would take years of Tolls before I'd ever break even after buying a brand new bike rack. And while I was irate and vindictive, I simply wasn't that patient. Ironically, the perfect solution was provided by the same organization which seeks to enforce those nasty tolls: The Highway Patrol. That's right, when Amanda and I renewed our drivers licenses in 2020, they no longer allowed us to list our post office box and instead insisted we use our physical address. It was fine by me, and since we have no mail box at our house, all correspondence with that address gets rejected and returned to the sender. For that reason, we haven't gotten a single Toll charge in three years despite going through multiple ones each time we visit Disney or anywhere else. In short, if the citation can't be delivered, we legally can't be held liable for it!         

But, after completing 7 hours of intense driving (and proudly still maintaining first place) an incident occurred just a few miles from our destination that I doubt any of us will ever forget. I always feel like once we finally get off the terrible Turnpike that the worst is behind us, but this time I was clearly premature in that assumption. We were on State Road 536 and traffic was fairly heavy. I was in the left lane, giving cursory glances to the vehicles behind me when I noticed the red Civic. The crimson paint was striking and stood out in a sea of otherwise bland sedans and minivans. And like me, it seemed to be ensnared in the congestion. As a vehicle pulled alongside, I noticed the Civic draw right up to my rear bumper in an effort to prevent them from squeezing in between us. Clearly, the young, female driver was very impatient and getting more and more agitated and frustrated by the slow pace of the traffic. And after driving 500 miles that day, I was too, but realized there was nothing I could do about it. Yet thirty seconds later, the Civic suddenly bolted out from behind me and flew into the other lane. As it raced by, I noticed it was a garden-variety, 10th-gen model, mostly likely built in 2015 or 2016. I briefly wondered where she was going, as there was a car directly in front of me and one in her lane also.

 

Without warning, she violently swerved over, attempting to fit her 12-foot car into a six-foot space. I literally had to stomp on the brakes to prevent her from slamming into us. And even then, I still don't know how her rear bumper didn't hit my front fender. In the intervening time since that incident, I've replayed her action hundreds of times in my head and still cannot rationalize her motive. She knew there wasn't enough room, but was so hell-bent on getting one car-length ahead that she willfully jeopardized the lives of me, my wife and my daughter. I laid on the horn for a good 10-15 seconds as it was all I could do to relay my anger and disbelief at what she had just done. Traffic parted in front of her and she attempted to flee, but I flat-footed the throttle and reeled her anemic 143hp Honda right back in. I continued to blast the horn and flash my high beams, just inches from her back bumper at speeds up to 90mph, zigzagging in and out of traffic. Eventually, I was able to swing alongside at which point I flipped her off multiple times and cursed her at the top of my lungs. Quite frankly, she's lucky she didn't stop as I wanted to physically beat some sense into her. Incidents like that, I reminded Amanda, are why I don't carry a firearm because I'd be too tempted to use it.

After that frightening episode, Amanda and Victoria were visibly shaken so I lightened the mood by stating that thanks to the kamikaze bitch, we made it the last few miles to Disney even faster than ever before! This broke the ice, and gave Victoria an opportunity to throw in her own little insult: She commented that the girl's stupidity didn't surprise her since she was a "Swifty" (i.e. a Taylor Swift fan) a detail I completely missed during the whole altercation. Not surprisingly, a couple weeks later I read an article about the most dangerous states to travel, and Florida was ranked third in the nation, right behind California and Texas. It stated that the Sunshine State experienced 2,762 traffic fatalities in the first nine months of 2022, and authorities cited "impatient and aggressive drivers" as the primary cause. 

 

Disney's new "Inclusive Employee Policy" also allows for some *colorful* characters that poor Walt would never have imagined in even his most terrifying nightmares, and I don't mean the ones that dress up and pose for photos with the kids. No, this individual was standing outside the Beach Club resort when we were trying to find our way to the Cape May Cafe. We were running late for our reservation, so I decided to ask this employee for directions. Of course, it was dark and from behind it looked like a tall woman in a sailor's dress with long blonde hair. But as it turned around, there was no mistaking that it was a man with a very deep voice. I've literally never been that shocked in my life and, as a result, was completely speechless. In fact, my brain was so bamboozled by this unexpected visage that I temporarily couldn't form thoughts or words. Fortunately, Amanda stepped in and asked for directions while I was completely flabbergasted. I stammered a "thank you" as we were walking off because the employee had been so nice, but I had not been prepared to see something so different than what I anticipated. Let's just say he wasn't Jessica Rabbit!           

        

After dinner, Amanda and I made our way to Disney Springs to check out the activities since it's absolutely spectacular at night. While walking down by The Landing, she suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me with her into a line of around 50 people. I asked what she was doing and she promptly informed me that the wait for this place was normally EIGHT hours, but that she just heard it was down to 45 minutes! She explained that it was a world-famous bakery named Gideon's and their specialty was hand-made cookies that weigh almost a half-pound! 

 

From the outside, it was a rather unassuming brick building but it's what was on the inside that shocked me. In our 2021 visit to Disney, I expressed my frustration and anger over attractions like "Splash Mountain" being cancelled because of perceived racist overtones.  So, I was appalled to discover the satanic imagery present. Perhaps I'm overreacting, but portraits of vampire children with blood dripping from their fangs and a demonic goat figure seems hardly appropriate for a bakery! Granted, they were crafted in a very non-threatening, cartoon style, but it's still disturbing nonetheless. And why is no one offended by it? I'm not a conspiracy nut, but it's almost as if there's a dark cabal controlling the media and entertainment industry. From Meghan Thee Stallion's, "Sweetest Pie" to Sam's Smith's "Unholy" Grammy performance, there's certainly seems to be a lot of recent satanic glorification. This also comes on the heels of Panera Bread's recent announcement to begin using palm-scanning technology to order and pay for meals. So, does that mean the Mark of the Beast is coming or is it already here?

 

 Are these demonic images really necessary to sell cookies?

 

The next morning, we arose at 5 a.m. just so we could make "Rope Drop" at Epcot. Typically, having to awaken that early on vacation is a cardinal sin, but was necessary so we could try Disney's newest ride, "Guardians of the Galaxy: Cosmic Rewind." For the initiated, "Rope Drop" means getting to the park before it opens and waiting in line behind the entrance rope until it is released and everyone can flood in. It's a Pro Move for sure, as only the most hardcore patrons have the necessary discipline to pull it off. The only other time we've actually made Rope Drop was at Hollywood Studios in 2020 to be some of the first to ride "Rise of Resistance."

 

"Guardians" just opened at the end of May last year, so we missed it when we went in January. Understandably, as the first Marvel ride at Disney World, the first roller coaster at Epcot, and with a projected cost of $500 million, it's a huge deal— both literally and figuratively. 

 

But more so than any other thrill ride, it is making people violently sick. We spoke to two friends who went last Summer and both confirmed that it made them ill. And these are longtime Disney vets who have ridden all the big coasters like Expedition Everest and Space Mountain. 

 

However, what seems to be the catalyst is that it's Disney's first backwards-launched roller coaster and that the seats spin a full 360-degrees while the participants are experiencing steep climbs and sudden drops at up to 60 mph. If that sounds like a recipe for a Vomit Comet, it certainly is and cast members even hand out barf bags prior to boarding. 

 

But before we could be guinea pigs for nearly 3 G-Forces of gravitational punishment, we needed to snag two seats. And like "Rise of the Resistance", this meant playing the Virtual Que lottery and hoping that we'd roll seven instead of snake eyes!

 

So, right before the allotted time, Amanda and I began furiously refreshing the Disney App on our phones. I was slightly quicker and got two passes for Group 26, one of the earliest reservations. Even so, the projected wait time until it was boarding was almost five hours! 

 

But, despite getting to Epcot for Rope Drop, there was still a deluge of people (all apparently with the same plan as us.) So, given our delayed spot on "Guardians", Amanda suggested we walk to France and take a spin on "Ratatouille", the new ride based on Pixar's 2007 film.  We had ridden it for the first time last year right after it had opened and it has proven immensely popular. In fact, by the time we got to the French Pavilion, I checked the App and there was already a 90 minute wait! Admittedly, we could have bypassed that with Amanda's DAS credentials, but our wait time for "Guardians" was already dropping so quickly that we decided to start making our way back. 

 

Located in Future World East, "Cosmic Rewind" is the first "Other-World" exhibit at Epcot and is in good company with "Mission Space", "Space Ship Earth" & "Test Track."

 

 

A Xandarian Starblaster ship greets visitors outside the Cosmic Rewind attraction.

Of course, there's some flimsy back story about going back in time to save the earth, but the real excitement begins when you are strapped in and the coaster shoots backward. I understand the concept of having a shuttle that spins around for a full 360-degree view, but in reality it's more jarring than enjoyable because it happens so violently and quickly. I measured 12 instances over 2G with the longest lasting 3.52 seconds and this is similar to what astronauts experience in the Space Shuttle at lift-off.

 

 

Afterwards, I told Amanda that they should rename it "Cosmic Washing Machine" because we had been flung around so much that it's what it felt like (minus the water, of course.) I knew I wouldn't get sick and thankfully Amanda didn't either, but I can certainly see how it would be too much for most people.

Enduring Cosmic Rewind's violent spin cycle!  

 

Enjoying the 80-foot drop on Expedition Everest.

Mine Train is the top ride at Magic Kingdom with wait times up to 2 hours.

We visited Magic Kingdom the following morning and everything was great until lunch. That's when we dined at Columbia Harbor House, located in Liberty Square. I love the Lobster Roll and had been looking forward to it since the restaurant closed down for Covid in early 2020 and only just recently reopened. 

 

For theme-park fare, the $17 Lobster Roll isn't too bad and I like that I can get something besides a hamburger for lunch. It was good, even if a fair bit of the lobster was the cheaper, shredded variety. But the real treat was the "Happy Haunts Milk Shake". A holdover from Halloween due to it's extreme popularity (and Haunted Mansion's close proximity) it's a Blackberry Milk Shake that's topped with a Purple Chocolate-Glazed Doughnut and covered with Black Sprinkles. Fortunately, no ghosts were harmed in the making of it and it was incredibly delicious!

 

 

About two hours later we were getting on Pirates of the Caribbean when I first started to feel strange. At first, I just thought I had some gas on my stomach, but I simply wrote it off as a result of all the theme park food. However, it returned a few minutes later but this time the malaise was much more intense and spread over my entire body. I suddenly felt so bad that I wondered if I was experiencing a heart attack, but none of the tell-tale signs of myocardia were present: my chest didn't hurt, there was no tingling in my left arm, etc. Despite that, the extreme discomfort seemed to be washing over me in waves. I tried breathing exercises, and even walking around, but it only got worse.

 

That's when Amanda noticed how pale and sweaty I was and asked if I was okay. I told her I just needed to sit down for a minute and I literally dropped to the ground. Unfortunately, I was concerned that if I said anything to a cast member, they might send me to the hospital via an ambulance rather than risk the public stigma of me dying on one of the rides. We also had dinner reservations coming up, so Amanda volunteered to stay while I went back to the hotel room. 

 

It's a grueling hike from Adventureland, down the crowded Main Street, and out to the distant bus parking when healthy, but I don't even remember how I got back to my bed at All-Star Sports. I just remember that I had massive chills and couldn't stop shaking. But despite the lethargy and fatigue, I didn't want to miss UDA's private party at Hollywood Studios later that night from 9pm-1am. It was going to be my only time to ride Aerosmith's Rock N Roller Coaster as Disney was closing it down indefinitely. Although there is no official reason for the "refurbishment" (their words, not mine) a popular fan theory is that it's because of the recent lawsuit surrounding Steven Tyler's sexual assault of a 16 year-old girl. Whatever the case may be, I certainly hope that it doesn't get re-themed like Rock N Roller Coaster did at Disneyland Paris and turned into a Marvel Avenger's ride.     

 

 

Several days later, I conveniently wanted to blame the Lobster Roll, but the emergence of two fever blisters signaled that what I had was probably viral. Likewise, Amanda saw a forum posting on a Disney Fan site whereby many people had complained of coming down with Norovirus shortly before we arrived. Regardless, with a daily attendance of 38,000 visitors from all over the world, Magic Kingdom is likely the most disease-ridden park on Earth.

 

The next morning, we packed our bags, but Victoria wouldn't let us leave Orlando until we stopped by the largest White Castle on earth. Personally, I've always felt that White Castle was the Yankee version of Krystal, similar to how Hardee's and Carl's Jr. are actually the same entity. As such, I wasn't enthused about going because: (1) My stomach was still on strike and (2) I've never cared for Krystal. 

 

However, on the drive there Victoria piqued my interest when she rattled off some useless trivia such as the little know fact that White Castle is actually America's original hamburger chain and that it's been around for over 100 years! With the ubiquity of the Golden Arches, I always thought that McDonald's was the oldest fast food establishment, but White Castle actually preceded it by more than thirty years. Furthermore, in 2014 Time Magazine even named their Original Slider as the most influential burger of all time.

 

We purposely got there around 11:00, hoping to beat the lunch rush, but it was busy anyway. And given my digestive distress, I simply ordered their 1921 burger which is an homage to their very first one. It was $1.99 and came fully dressed with caramelized onions, cheddar cheese, Roma tomatoes, lettuce and pickles. Seeing that I was expecting it to closely approximate a limp, greasy Krystal, I was pleasantly surprised— the bun was fresh, the beef patty was juicy, and the vegetables were cool and crisp. Granted, I wouldn't eat them regularly even if they were available in Mississippi, but it was nice to finally be able to try one and see what the fuss was about!   

 

  

So, maybe I shouldn't be sad that this was our last trip to Disney in the foreseeable future. After all, Disney has the absolute worst ROI (Return on Investment) of any entertainment product that I can imagine. For park admission, lodging and food, the average worked out to $1000 per day for the three of us and is five-times what our first trip with Victoria cost us in 2009! Granted, there's a handful of new rides but it's certainly not 500% better in my humble estimation.

 

And then there's the inhospitable weather, which fluctuated between scorching during the day and freezing at night. We're talking schizophrenic temperature shifts of low 50s to high 80s, which meant each day you could either choose to dress warm or cool, but not both. Combine that with the 16-hours of drive time and the relentless crowds, and I always feel like I need a vacation from that "vacation" when I get home. Until Disney is actually able to put the "Magic" back into Magic Kingdom, I don't want to come back!

 

 

A View to a Thrill

Visiting Mississippi's very own Grand Canyon

 

 

  Pirate Press (he/him)        Spring 2023  

~Sustainably Sourced Since 1990~

 

For the past decade, I've been fascinated by reports of a beautiful, natural arroyo located just two hours north of me. In fact, it's so striking that viewers have taken to simply substituting the sobriquet of "Mississippi's Little Grand Canyon" for it.

 

The problem has been that it's not close to anything, so justifying a trip just to see it has been out of the question. But thankfully, that all changed during the first week of November when Victoria needed to attend a pre-college dance camp at Perkinston campus. Suddenly, I had a viable excuse for driving the rest of the way to Red Bluff!

Of course, we needed some early morning fuel for the long road trip. So, Amanda and I first headed to Hattiesburg where she wanted to try the new Stuffed Cheesecake Pancakes at Cracker Barrel. Granted, I'm not a big fan of Cracker Barrel and I reminded her that the last time we had eaten breakfast there was in St. Augustine during Spring Break 2003. But despite the nearly 20 year absence, she assured me I wouldn't regret it. 

 

Right off the bat, she ordered a seasonal Cinnamon Roll Latte which looked so sweet even Willy Wonka wouldn't touch it with a 10-foot candy cane. It was an extra-large espresso mixed with Cinnamon Roll-flavoring, chocolate syrup and whipped cream. Unfortunately, our waitress was not a good advocate for it as she was missing several of her teeth. But that didn't dissuade a couple seated at the table next to us from asking what it was so they could also try it. Funny enough, I ordered the healthiest thing on the drink menu—a glass of orange juice—but it was never delivered to me so I just stuck to water for the entire meal.

 

It was also amusing imagining the marketing pitch as the Cracker Barrel execs sat around brainstorming how they could possibly make their pancakes even more unhealthy. I assume that there was a cerebral stalemate until someone suggested the absurdity of cheesecake filling. However, I'm also of the mindset that if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing, so I was all-in on the pancakes which additionally get doused in powered sugar and then drowned in strawberry syrup before a couple token strawberry slices are tossed on top in a fleeting gesture to make it appear quasi-nutritious. Likewise for the new Impossible Sausage, Cracker Barrel's first plant-based protein option. If you're ordering cheesecake-stuffed pancakes, I don't think you're overly concerned about the traditional bacon or sausage that comes with it. To me, it makes as much sense as buying an extra-large pizza with a diet Coke.

 

I usually make pancakes on Sunday mornings, so I feel I have a little experience when it comes to cooking them. Given that, I do have to applaud Cracker Barrel for cooking recipe-perfect pancakes that were golden brown with just the right fluffy texture. However, the cheesecake filling was disappointing as it was too thin and runny, akin to a burst egg yolk. I had envisioned a denser texture like a real cheesecake or even filling that had the smooth consistency of ricotta. Despite that, I promptly polished them off, even though it's not something I'd order again.

 

<Click To Enlarge Photos> 

Leaving Hattiesburg, we still had an hour's drive west before we would officially reach our destination (which was smack dab in the middle of nowhere.) And driving in such a remote area, where cell service was spotty and pine trees outnumbered people, I was glad that I had stayed on top of the Santa Fe's service. Unbelievably, we were coming up on eight years of ownership and 142,000 miles with Elsa, the nickname my daughter picked out for our Hyundai due to the Frost White paint and that annoying Disney movie, Frozen. 

As some readers my recall, our original engine bit the dust at 70,000 miles due to oil starvation from a manufacturing defect. It took three months, but Hyundai ultimately returned our Santa Fe with a completely rebuilt engine. So, with the same mileage on our new engine as before, I was eager to see how it was holding up. After all, an oil analysis would have detected the excessive wear and prevented us from breaking down in Atlanta. Naturally, I was a little apprehensive about what the report would reveal, but I wanted to know if we could keep the Hyundai a while longer or needed to trade it in immediately.  

 

Thankfully, the oil analysis was encouraging, with no signs of abnormal wear or any other troubling signs. Given that glowing report, I told Amanda we should shoot for 200,000 miles on the odometer. That would equate to 130,000 miles on the new engine which I feel is more than attainable given how well today's vehicles are built. After all, I have a friend who purchased a 2012 Mustang GT with 200,000 miles on it and he routinely drives it 16 hours to Nashville and back with no issues whatsoever. Of course, I don't have that much confidence in a vehicle, but I think it's admirable that he does.

 

Another step in the Santa Fe's upkeep was changing the spark plugs recently, which turned out to be a major affair. The owner's manual recommends swapping them out every 45K since the turbocharged 2.0-liter is much harder on plugs than a naturally-aspirated one. I get that, and we observed it the first time to keep the warranty intact by having the dealer perform it. However, with the engine officially out of the standard warranty at 100K, I was a little lax in changing them. So, when our Hyundai went in last month for a recall, the dealer wasted no time in hitting us up to replace them. Granted, with almost double the recommended mileage on them (90K) I knew they needed to be changed, so I asked the service advisor what it would cost? When he replied $310, I'm glad I was sitting down because otherwise I might have seriously injured myself. But after I demanded a price breakdown of the parts and labor, he defended the exorbitant amount by stating it was because it was a six-cylinder and required six spark plugs. This infuriated me because it was an outright lie, and as the person who checked the car into service, he knew as well as I did that it was really just a four-cylinder. Despite that, the price quoted worked out to roughly $50 per plug and $100 labor!

 

Of course, I declined the exorbitant service and decided to do it myself. Even better, I found the OEM plugs on Rock Auto and they were just $10 apiece, literally a 4-for-1 deal over the stealership. 

 

Changing them wasn't a big deal as I already had a spark plug socket, and the ignition coils were the most time consuming item. In these modern times, I really miss the ease and convenience of good old-fashioned spark plug wires. But ignition coils are more durable than traditional plug wires, so I suppose it's a trade-off.

 

Naturally, the plugs looked great for having almost 100K on them and it underscores how conservative the factory's maintenance intervals are. Regardless, I was just thrilled that it would be the last time I'd have to change them.  

And just when it seemed we couldn't get any more lost, we had arrived at Red Bluff, the locals' name for the area where Mississippi's own Grand Canyon resides. Now, the actual land is privately owned, but there doesn't seem to be any enforcement of that. In fact, there was even a nicely paved parking area that turned out to be from the previous highway before the erosion forced it to be moved. Additionally, a vacant Honda Civic was already there, indicating that there were people ahead of us which I took as a good omen. I reasoned that if the land owner suddenly snapped and began using trespassers for target practice, at least we'd have a warning! 

 

The entrance down the original Highway 587 is actually blocked off by an old, rusty guardrail, but it has been delightfully decorated with all types of colorful graffiti.

 

I briefly entertained the idea of simply hopping over the weathered balustrade, until I noticed a convenient and well-worn dirt path that years of visitors had etched out. 

Walking down the deserted highway was a very surreal experience as I really felt isolated from everything. It's all too easy to let your mind wander and imagine you've been transported to some post-apocalyptic world.

 

Owning to a height roughly 400 feet above sea level, the final ascent is quite a cardio-intensive activity with the road appearing to simply end by dropping off into eternity.

 

 

Reaching the summit is an initial letdown, as the vista flattens out and appears painfully ordinary. Only two brightly vandalized posts are the singular forewarning that this area of the Pine Belt holds anything special. 

Fortunately, Mother Nature was on her best behavior and the visibility was virtually limitless. A cerulean blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon and provided a perfect foil for the kaleidoscopic topography I'd soon witness.  

 

Of course, I'm here thanks to the Pearl River, a 444-mile watercouse that begins in Philadelphia, Mississippi and follows the Intracoastal Waterway before finally emptying into the Gulf of Mexico. But climate-related events like Hurricane Katrina in 2005 have gradually shifted the river's course, creating the accelerated erosion responsible for Red Bluff's Grand Canyon. 

Pictures (and words) fail to properly capture the awe-inspiring color, shape and scope of the crater that is continually widening and growing due to natural desedimentation from the Pearl River floodplain.

 

But standing on the precipice and gazing out is truly a breathtaking spectacle. It's both scary and stunning as the natural wonder dazzles the eyes but the 200-ft drop induces a constant warning of vertigo.  

Depending on the side and position of the sun, the canyon takes on chameleonic characteristics. My wife blamed my growling stomach when I proclaimed that one side looked like the most beautifully carved slab of prime rib roast I'd ever seen. She said it take longer than 15 mins in the wilderness to start having hallucinations and seeing mirages. But, I defended my position stating that like a Rorschach Test, it was open to personal interpretation.

 

On the opposite side, it looked like digging into the world's largest tub of Neapolitan ice cream- heavy chunks of strawberry, mixed with sandy streaks of vanilla and chocolate. 

 

Walking further down, we witnessed the collapsed Highway 587 firsthand— I've hit some nasty potholes in my time, but this is undoubtedly the mother of them all! I imagine this is what the Highway to Hell looks like, but with lots of fire and Sam Kinison. 😈

 

The opposite side even had some brave climbers tackling the 50-degree angled cliffs. And although I wasn't willing to get dirty, I've heard that further down is wreckage that leads to the remnants of a 1901 train crash. 

Right before we left, Amanda and I both heard some strange growling noises emanating from the woods behind us. She was clearly concerned, but I said that maybe it was just "Cocaine Bear".  Certainly, it was the perfect setting for such a thing and it did hasten our exit. Then I teased Amanda that if it was a crazed grizzly, I didn't have to outrun it. I'd only have to run faster than her, a statement which she did not find amusing, even if it was true.  

 

Despite that, we made it out safely and even passed a family of four walking in. Whether they became  brunch for the unseen creature in the forest is not known, but we certainly enjoyed the panoramic view of Mississippi's Grand Canyon.

Bizarrely, the area also enjoys the distinction of being possibly the only place in the world to actually benefit from climate change as continued erosion will only expand the natural wonder even more.

 

Normally, it's a 110-minute haul from Hurley and I personally wouldn't recommend that jaunt just to visit Red Bluff. But if you're going to be passing through the area, it's definitely worth a detour. In fact, Cosmopolitan named it as the Most Beautiful Place in Mississippi and even crowned it as "Instagram Gold." 

 

But if you do go, please just remember one rule: Don't Feed The Bears! These don't prevent forest fires or wear a tie and swipe your picnic basket. 🙂

Electric Epoch

An unforgettable 119-mph drag race in a Tesla.

 

  Pirate Press            August 2022  

                                                                                  

 

On a hot summer Sunday in June, I experienced a paradigmatic moment in my life. Like my first time getting on the internet, it was a tangible event clearly divided by the before and after events. And for me, once that point of no return was passed, there's no going back. 

I've been very vocal about my resistance to electric cars, but I've wanted to rent one for several years just to see what the fuss was about. Back in 2017, I thought it would be fun to rent a Tesla in New Orleans and drive to the Florida Keys solely using Tesla's network of charging stations. Unfortunately, even five years later, it's still prohibitive from both a financial and charging standpoint. After driving the 900 hp Hellcat in 2020, I felt the perfect followup would be a test drive of a 1,020 hp Tesla Plaid, it's electric antithesis. I came pretty close to renting one in Orlando earlier this year until a last minute change in plans literally pulled the plug on it.

But a month later, longtime-reader Randy Saunders notified me that he had ordered a Tesla that would be arriving shortly. Over the past thirty years I've known him, he's owned an enviable variety of different performance cars, several of which I've covered in these articles. So when he put his unreliable Jeep up for sale, I was sure he would be getting a new Mustang Mach 1. Instead, he surprised me with the Tesla, which I felt is akin to going from a carnivore to vegetarian diet. 

However, it turns out there was a method to his madness that I would soon discover.

It all started with the Cars and Coffee Biloxi chapter moving their June meeting to Gulfport Dragway. This was ostensibly because the previous events had gotten more and more dangerous due to reckless drivers attempting to show-off with burnouts and other illegal activities. I'm not saying that smoking the tires doesn't have a rightful place at car shows, it's just that it's not safe near large crowds of unprotected people.

I'm typically opposed to rising early on Sunday mornings, and due to that, this was the first Cars and Coffee I had attended in almost three years. So, the night before I offhandedly invited my daughter to go with me, I fully expected her to decline. But to my surprise she enthusiastically agreed and then I was left wondering if I'd made a big mistake? Would she quickly tire of the racing and be bored? Would she be miserable standing for so long in the sweltering heat? And, in a society reeling from a pandemic, an overturned Roe vs. Wade decision and the highest inflation in forty years, does the world really need a live-action Barbie movie?     

After all, the last time I took Victoria to a drag strip was for the "PINKS ALL OUT" races in 2008 when she was just three. In fact, she even wanted to wear her "PINKS" beanie from that event until she discovered it would be over 100 degrees, but I applauded her enthusiasm nonetheless.

Despite my initial concerns, she was up early on Sunday morning and we left at 8am to be in Gulfport by 9am when the event started. Having a freshly minted driver's license, I offered to let her pilot the Fusion and she accepted. I warned her that while it was not nearly as nice as her new 2022 Forte, it did possess over 100 more horsepower so she might enjoy stretching its legs a bit. Unlike her mother, I don't discourage her from driving fast and I actually think it's good to safely experience the capabilities of a car when conditions permit. 

Traffic was light, and with miles of visibility in front of us I allowed her to go as fast as she felt comfortable. Briefly nudging ninety a couple times, we made it to the drag strip about 20 minutes early. And in retrospect, we probably should have arrived even sooner as traffic was backed up halfway down the entrance road. Unbelievably, the car in front of us was also a Fusion like mine even down to the same red metallic paint. However, it was the four-cylinder model and had clearly been neglected. Advertising the owner's intellect (or lack thereof) was a classy bumper sticker that read "Gas, Grass or Ass, Nobody Rides Free." Given that optimistic outlook, the driver should be careful not to pick up any "hitchhikers" that can't be dismissed with even the strongest does of antibiotics. And finally, who still refers to marijuana as "grass" anyway?!? That sobriquet hasn't been relevant since bell bottoms and CB radios were popular.

After signing waivers to not hold Gulfport Dragway responsible if we were horribly maimed or killed, we paid our $20 and were let into our own adult amusement park where we thankfully weren't harassed by employees in creepy mouse costumes or brainwashed with woke agendas.

I found an empty row and parked only to see it quickly fill up with the most expensive cars of the whole event. It was certainly the best company my car has ever been in, but next to the low-slung Lamborghini my otherwise sporty Fusion looked as tall and cumbersome as a 4x4 Bronco. However, with the Aventador's scissor doors, I certainly didn't have to worry about any door dings!  

The humidity and ambient temperature were both hovering around 90 so we made a beeline to the concession stand to pick up some bottled water. Just as we did, I saw a dark blue Tesla streak down the track. I thought it might have been Randy, but that Tesla looked like a darker blue than the single cellphone picture I'd seen of his.

But on the off chance it was him, we walked to the side of the return road and waited for the Tesla to pass by. 

System Shock

As it approached us, the Tesla abruptly stopped and the window rolled down. Sure enough, it was Randy and he simply said, "Get In!" I reached for the door handle only to awkwardly discover that there wasn't one there. Instead, there was just a thin strip of black metal that was flush with the door panel. Even more embarrassing, my 16 year-old daughter apparently knew more about the Tesla than I did: she had already opened her rear door and subsequently showed me how to open mine. Despite my chagrin, I later discovered that Googling "How to open Tesla door" will produce roughly 75 million results, with the official instructions being something like "To open the door, simply press the wider part of the non-mechanical door handle with your thumb. Use the rest of your hand to grab the thin part of the handle as it pivots open and pull or simply pull open the door from its edge." 

As I slid into the painfully-clean white leather seat, my immediate concern was inquiring if our water bottles were acceptable? After all, I'm particular about drinks and food in my car so I feel its only right to extend the same courtesy and respect to others, particularly those who are charitable enough to offer my daughter and me a $60,000 joyride. Randy nonchalantly waved it off and I was next struck by the intense minimalism of the interior. A massive 15" touchscreen dominated the cabin but aside from that there was only a sculpted dash that makes the Model 3 looks as futuristic as a UFO.  

Literally everything seems to be controlled by the Macbook-sized display, even down to the fan controls for the air-conditioning, which Randy had set to high. As I stated earlier, the Tesla rewrites a lot of what I grew up knowing about cars, because those rules no longer apply. For instance, whether racing on the street or at the track, the air-conditioning was always turned off for better performance even if it was 100 degrees. But with an electric car, that's not an issue as it has no moving parts like an A/C compressor to cause parasitic drag. Similarly, there's no messy fluids to deal with such as gasoline or dirty motor oil to dispose of. 

We pulled through the pits as Randy explained that with Cars and Coffee's relaxed rules, we could join him down the quarter-mile without even so much as a helmet. That's when I noticed that we had randomly been paired with a small, white BMW that looked to be an M-Class 2 Series. I'm admittedly not a BMW aficionado, but Randy surmised that it was probably packing around 400hp and would be a formidable opponent. 

Victoria was giddy with excitement in the back seat as this was not only her first time in a fully-electric car, but also her first drag race. I instructed her to film the race as I was confident we would pull away from the BMW once underway. 

Sadly, there was no scantily-clad young girl at the starting line performing the arm-drop as is so often glamorized in movies like The Fast & The Furious. Instead, we got some crusty old man who looked like he may have just wandered in from a nearby homeless camp. That notwithstanding, he did an acceptable job of making sure we were both lined-up and ready before waving us off.

I asked Randy if there was any special procedure the Model 3 required for an optimum launch, such as brake-loading the powertrain, but he said there wasn't. Apparently, all that's needed is simply stomping the gas pedal, er, I mean electric pedal to the floor as fast as possible once the race starts. 

Now, I wasn't sure what the BMW had in its arsenal, but I was fairly certain that our Tesla would win given the nearly insurmountable combination of its electric motor and all-wheel-drive (AWD). For instance, petrol engines like the one in the BMW don't make maximum power right off the line, nor can all that energy be effectively channeled to just the rear wheels. In short, it doesn't matter if we were racing a car with 1000hp if it couldn't put it to the pavement. 

Silent Violence 

However, I have to give props to the Bimmer driver as he had a quick reaction time and got a pretty good launch. Unfortunately for him, we were already a car-length ahead by the 60-foot mark and that grew to around 5 car-lengths by the eighth-mile. Randy had described the Tesla's 4.0-second 0-60 as "brutal" and he wasn't exaggerating— the neck-snapping catapult and continuous surge of power were a little disorienting at first. It was also eerily quiet as we shot down the track, with only a low, mechanical hum and the growing sound of rapidly displaced air. Thanks to the huge screen, I could see the vehicle speed swiftly rising, hitting 119 mph before Randy let off. Car and Driver measured a 12.3 @ 115 mph quarter-mile from their Long Range Model 3 and that seemed to fall right in line with what I experienced.

Normally, Amanda would pitch a fit if I admitted that I'd just gone 119 mph in a car (which is why I usually don't tell her). But, disclosing that Victoria was a passenger in a car doing almost 120 mph would probably send her into cardiac arrest. However, she was unusually relaxed about our spin in the Tesla and I mainly attribute that to it being within the safe confines of the track and the protection it affords. Yet, regardless of the reason, it was simply nice to enjoy some triple-digit speeds without any spousal scolding.      

But on to the subject of the Mustang Mach 1 that I mentioned earlier. Next to Ford's muscular pony car, the Tesla appears downright anemic. Indeed, I've never gone so fast in a car that looks so slow. In fact, judged solely on outward appearance, I bet not a single person would pick the Tesla over the Mustang.

But is there really that big of a difference between them?

Price-wise, the Tesla Model 3 Long Range rings in at an as-tested price of $57,960 to the Mustang's $63,745.

And while they admittedly employ vastly different methods of operation, their performance is remarkably similar with the Tesla having the edge despite less horsepower (-30hp) and more weight (+200lbs.). Thanks to AWD and the instantaneous power delivery, the Model 3 rockets to 60 mph in 4 seconds flat, 3 tenths faster than the Mach 1. The gaps grows by another tenth all the way until 130 mph which the Tesla covers in 16.7 seconds to the Mustang's 17.1 seconds. 

In more pedestrian maneuvers, Randy claims he's logged 1,500 miles on his Model 3 at an estimated cost of just $30 in electricity. In comparison, it would cost nearly $350 in 93 octane to replicate the same distance in the Mach 1. Furthermore, after the short drive to the drag strip and six wide-open passes down the track, he pointed out his battery was still 80% charged.     

In the end, the Tesla might not stir the emotions nor convey the visceral appeal like the Mach 1, but with a cheaper price, not having to buy pricey high-octane and a quieter, more comfortable ride, the Model 3 is the educated man's muscle car.

Tires and Traction

In the ensuing nearly twenty years since I was last at Gulfport Dragway, there have been some welcome additions, such as a new burnout box located adjacent to the Starting line. I wasn't familiar with this area but was pleased to witness a stripped-down Corvette LT1 bravely enter and begin the longest continuous burnout I've ever seen. 

After a tortuous four or five minutes, the Corvette exited but more smoke was now emanating from the radiator than the tires. It appeared that the punishing activity had caused the engine to overheat and was spewing radiator fluid everywhere.

Fortunately, the poor Corvette was far from a museum piece so I doubt the owner was concerned about any potential damage.

Next up for our amusement was a new Toyota Supra, albeit in 1/10th scale, that was also quite adept at being flung around the burnout box. The tiny RC car zipped around, doing complete 360-degree turns and providing quite the comic relief.

Back on the track, a new Acura NSX was the only real exotic car brave enough to drag-race. I posted a thread on the Ferrari forum encouraging nearby owners to show what their prancing horse could do on the strip, but none had the balls to even show up, much less race it. That was disappointing because there are usually several Ferraris at every Cars and Coffee, but this time there were zero, underscoring the fact that the majority of owners are rich elitists who simply buy them for ego-inflating purposes.  

Clocking in at $200K, the NSX with questionable aquamarine wheels was dominating the field with it's AWD and 600 Hybrid-Electric horses which enabled a 2.9-second 0-60 sprint. A C7 Z06 stepped up to challenge it, and with more horsepower and less weight, seemed like it might end the Acura's reign. But like other opponents, the Corvette struggled to transfer all that power to the rear wheels and the NSX got the holeshot and pulled away.

The drag strip has always been a "Run-What-Ya-Brung" environment and that makes for some interesting and unpredictable match-ups. Case in point: What looked to be an Audi RS Q8 SUV replete with a loaded luggage rack proved to be the most bonkers racer of the day. It was haphazardly paired with a sleek, F-Type 400 in what the Jaguar driver must have thought would be a slam-dunk in his favor. But as the saying goes, you can't judge a book (or car, in this case) by its cover and despite it's preposterous appearance, the portly Audi jumped off the line much to the chagrin of the Jag owner. With 600hp, the Q8 has the same twin-turbo V8 as the Lamborghini Urus so it was Germany vs. Great Britain all over again. Towards the end of the race, it looked like the Audi's battleship aerodynamics and weight began to take a toll, allowing the leaping cat to just slip by but it was a real nail-biter.

However, the most unintentional excitement came from a race between a new Toyota Supra and a Dodge 392 Challenger. Reports are that the hot-rodded Supra was pushing close to 600hp and right off the line both cars were side-by-side. Yet without any warning, the Supra was apparently struck by power-on oversteer and suddenly smashed into the left guardrail. It then bounced off it and slid across the track into the right guardrail where it came to a crumpled stop.

The impact was such that the track was immediately closed while the Supra was inspected and removed. Randy mused that with no on-site ambulance or wrecker, and a lengthy track clean-up, it would likely be the last race of the day. This was depressing news and I couldn't help but felt somewhat responsible. After all, I had jokingly admitted that I hoped to see some rich idiot blow their exotic car up but I hadn't anticipated that such an event would shut the track down. 

So, with Randy's prognostication we decided to leave and others seemed to do the same thing, as there was suddenly an unspoken mass exodus. Victoria wanted to eat lunch at The Sugar Factory so we headed there in the coolest traffic jam ever. 

Unfortunately, once on the interstate we soon discovered that our exit was blocked by not one, but two burning 18-wheeler trucks. According to the accident report, the flames were difficult to extinguish given the large amount of fuel onboard both vehicles. Thankfully, Waze re-routed us around the wreck and through Woolmarket so we didn't lose much time. However, we came out right across from the Gulf Coast Veterinary Emergency Hospital which Victoria thoughtfully reminded me is where we took her sick cat when it was near death in 2018. He lived, but I now refer to the place as the Ritz-Carlton because a three-day stay set me back $1,500 and the damn cat was so pampered he didn't want to leave! 

Once at the Hard Rock Hotel, we discovered that there was a 30-minute wait for seating due to the unprecedented glut of post-Covid tourists. And contributing to the delay was a family of ten from Baton Rouge ahead of us which I never understood. Personally, I can't imagine anyone from Louisiana traveling to Biloxi for a vacation when Texas, Georgia or Florida have so much more to offer.

Our waitress was nice enough, even though she had blue hair and looked like she belonged in a Japanese Anime movie. But, I was taken aback when she informed me they had no sweet tea. She then elaborated and explained that they were actually completely out of sugar. Suddenly, it felt like a surreal setup for some game show we were unknowingly on. And then Victoria clarified, "So, it's called The Sugar Factory but you're out of sugar!?!" It sounded too bizarre to be real, but in fact was true, and is the only time in my life I've ever heard of such a peculiar shortage, particularly since it's the name of the establishment. It's like Taco Bell being out of tacos!

Nevertheless, Victoria and I both decided on the Waffle Breakfast Burger, a towering salute to cholesterol and American excess that strikes fear into the heart of even the most hardened cardiologist. It starts life as a half-pound burger but gets corrupted with two waffles for the buns, applewood bacon, smoked sausage, a fried egg, hash browns, country gravy, maple syrup and—last but certainly not least—butter! I also admire their dedication to making it as unhealthy as possible with three types of meat but not a single redeeming green vegetable. Of course, it was delicious and I completely devoured mine, but it was so messy Victoria had to use a knife and fork on hers.  

But as enjoyable as the burger was, the best part of the meal came when it was time to pay. Because of the nearly hour wait for our food, the manager apparently took pity on us and comped our whole check. I joked with Victoria that had I known it was free, I would have ordered an appetizer and a dessert, too! Despite that, I still tipped our waitress $20 so she wouldn't run out of blue hair dye and I left the casino satisfied that I actually came out slightly ahead for once!  

If nothing else, the time with Randy's Tesla convinced me that electric cars are indeed a viable automotive alternative. But, I'm still partial to combustion engines as I love the smell and sound of spent exhaust gases. However, that's not to say that Amanda won't get an EV in the next couple years when we trade in her Santa Fe because electric cars are clearly the future of transportation.