HOTBOX II!

(Another great photograph that, like last year, could be from any decade in the last three or four. Photo courtesy Stiv)







Some good ideas only occur once and then never again....however, oftentimes the very BEST ideas go on and on year after year. And so it is/was with our Hotwheels races, officially titled Hotbox from here forward. Last year on Labor Day Weekend my closest friends and I gathered for an event dripping in nostalgia-a full day of racing vintage and new Hotwheels cars on a monster "road course" to determine whose rod is the hottest, so to speak. Last year I had won after coming from the rear of the pack on a consolation round, and was looking to make it two years in a row.





(Under Construction. Daryl, Chad and Brian put their heads together, combined it with beer [see photo] and get the credit for designing this year's course-how many people can take credit for designing a race track? Few, that's how many. Photo Stiv.)












(Long Way Down. The finished product allowed, like last year, a long sprint to the finish-this helped equalize things for cars less nimble in the loops and turns, giving them a chance to catch up at the end. Caught for posterity are Dr. Girlfriend's feet, Brent's erect posture midsection-down, Marci mid-pose, an yet to be identified racer and Miss Shannon ruling the track. The addition of more kids this time around lended legitimacy to the event and made it less like Manchildfest '08)




This year, however, was not my year-the addition of a much wider field, and the relative wear and tear on last years winner, Twelve Lashes, left me finishing mid-pack. In the end, it would come down to Dewey Walck and Brian's kid Ian (since a puberty-induced growth spurt referred to as the Thin White Duke) in a heated battle with MATCHING Audi R8's. Ian would just squeak by for the win in a Battle of the Ages.







(The Return of the G. If Gerald had not already lived in the 'Burg, he would have received the price for longest distance traveled to the event-he had just rolled in from a full summer surfing in Cape Cod, no doubt with Vampire Weekend. Here Daryl appears to go for his Glock, which he inadvertently left at home.)





(Mischief. Every year we feel more like we are getting away with something-maybe it's the beer. Me, George, and G. Photo Stiv.)


















(MC in the place to be-I was given honorary MC rights since I was the defending champion-I had every intent of coming off with some '84 LA Olympics space alien "spirit of world competition" crap, but the lack of a flying saucer dropping me off made me sound MORE like the paranoid NWO nut that I am. Photo still Stiv.)