The last day always seems to be when Rich Taylor's evil side comes out... the timed segments get harder, and the "objective hazards" of TSD rallying loom larger. By that I mean traffic, construction zones, school busses, etc. The average speeds seem to creep up just a hair (into the upper 40's in MPH) and the time required gets really close. Having done so many of these events, we were prepared for the fact that Thursday.

The route book describes today's journey as:

We got ourselves ready early, and grabbed a quick buffet breakfast. While Dad went back and packed his bags, I went and prepped the car. I was the first person in the parking area so it gave me a chance to grab some photos of the dew-covered cars.

It sure is odd seeing the Pinin Farina badges on a Packard isn't it? This is Carl Schneider's 1952 Packard 500, with coachwork by Pinin Farina. Not quite the usual Pinin Farina Ferrari, but certainly a unique automobile. Here are a couple exterior shots.

The other entrant in the "Early Vintage" class was the Novrit's 1946 MG TC. I have an affinity for MG's, as my Dad owned a few during my childhood. He never had a TC, but did have a 1950 TD that he bought when I was about nine years old. This MG is an excellent example of the marque, and the Novrits deserve a prize for enduring the deluge on Tuesday... note they have no side curtains!

Here is a quick-stitched panorama of the parking lot:

I took the top down and prepped the car for the final day of rallying. Dad arrived and we take off. We weren't the first to check out, but we were in the first few out. I drove the first segment. Right off things start going wrong. About three miles from the start I note that the odometer is stuck. It is just clicking, rather than turning over to the next mile. We make a few unsuccessful attempts to clear the error. The car really needs to be at a full stop before you can fix this, and of course Murphy's Law says now is when we will not hit any red lights! We get it cleared to zero, but it keeps hanging up at the same spot. It takes us about 10 miles or so to finally get it to go past that spot. Rallying without a reliable odometer is not easy.

Shortly after clearing that hurdle, we encounter another one... this time it is a slow truck, with a car, and the two rally cars (The Fischer's Porsche, and the two guys whose Morgan died, now driving a Chrysler Sebring) ahead of us stuck behind it. In an amazing streak of luck, I get a chance to leap-frog the two rally cars on a slight downhill grade, and then get an almost immediate chance to do the same with the truck and car. Whoo hoo! We leave the pack far behind and try to make time. The earlier odometer problems have my navigator in an agitated state and he's convinced we are not going to make the checkpoint. (looking at the course book now, weeks later, I can see his scribbled math *all* over this page, trying to recalculate the time and distance.) He's looking around and thinking that we have quite a way to go, but I'm confident that were are OK. Two years before, we drove a very similar segment, at least this part leading up to the Don Garlits Museum, and my visual memory is quite good. I have a feeling we are about 4 miles from the finish... Dad thinks it is more like 14. Sure enough, I am right and we arrive with just enough time to check the clock with Rich Taylor's at the finish, switch drivers, and finish the segment with a "Zero."

Our check-in time is 9:34:00, and you can see by the car's clock that we arrived with about 8 minutes to spare. Not bad. You will also note that we left some room ahead of us, as we expected to see the two cars ahead of us come barrelling in with a lot less time to spare. Sure enough Polak and Serkin (driving the Sebring, since their Morgan died) and the Fischer's in their pretty silver Porsche arrive with almost no time to spare, and proceed through the checkpoint ahead of us. They both Zero, and in our run we zero as well. We know we are tied for first with these two, and three other teams (The Ehle's, the Park's, and The Berthiez').

The Morgan guys had complained in the bar last night that this rally was too easy. I informed them that today would shake that tight leader board up. I told them that we have done many of these Vintage Rallies events and the last day always gets hard. I bet they believe me now, as they barely made this checkpoint.

I skipped the Museum, as I had been there before. Dad went in, and I stayed outside and photographed cars coming in to the checkpoint. Many were late, some VERY late. I saw a few get zeros though.

Above: Dan Leonard and Randy Moss in a 1957 AC Ace-Bristol.

Above: Patterson and Barnwell's '67 Austin-Healey BJ-8 and the Hanson '73 Porsche Carrera RS

Above: The MacDougald's '64 Sting Ray.

Above: The Berthiez' '56 Austin-Healey 100 LeMans.

Above: Fred and John Ehle's '67 Corvette Sting Ray.

Above: The Packard.

Between the arrivals I walked around and photographed the parked cars..

Above: Easily the "prettiest" car of the bunch is David Fischer's little Porsche. Sleek and small, awesome paint... LOUD exhaust! =)

Above: This is an AC Ace-Bristol. This is what Carroll Shelby started with to create the famous Cobra. The AC is of course a direct rip-off of the Ferrari Barchetta from the late 40's-early 50's.

Above: The Parks stop to check in their pretty little "Big Healey."

Above: The Fraser's incomparable Ferrari.

Dad finished his tour of the museum, and we grabbed the third check-out time behind the Fischers and the "guys no longer in the Morgan." This leg was a long diagonal going north-east across the state towards the east coast. It finished on a small river front park in the town of Palatka. It was a relatively uneventful segment, with me at the wheel and Dad performing navigation. The only real wrinkle came at the end, where the three cars got a bit confused as we approached the park. We arrived there first, with plenty of time to spare, and grabbed the lone shady parking spot. The checkpoint which was staffed by Gerald and Anzie McNaughton, was probably the most usual so far in the rally. The park was very small, and the run between the final cones was scaled to fit. It was perhaps a 7 to 10 second run, if you crawled. When our time approached we positioned ourselves off to the left of the "start point" and watched the first two cars go through. We switched drivers and Dad aced the checkpoint and we immediately left the checkpoint area to allow for the remaining rally cars, now beginning to arrive, to find somewhere to fit in the small space. The next leg was a 30 mile transit to the tourist town of St. Augustine. We stopped for gas along the way, and arrived in St. Augustine in a throng of tourists and school field trips. The Rally had organized a choice a three places for lunch. We picked "Mexican"... which turned out to be the farthest walk. That was fine with us, but obviously not the majority of the rally participants, since we saw only one other pair from the Rally, and they arrived as we were leaving.

Dad and I enjoyed a pretty good lunch, and we were joined by Rally Organizer Jean Taylor. As we wrapped up we contemplated our situation. We had a string of perfect "zeros", but we still had one more TSD segment to complete. It was Dad's turn to drive, and mine to navigate. We have done many of Rich Taylor's rallies in the past and knew the last day was frequently the hardest, and the last segment usually the real divider between "men and boys".... the objective hazards get tough... it always happens on a weekday afternoon, so school busses, rush-hour traffic, etc. Looking at our route, we knew we were in for trouble. It ran up the coast from St. Augustine, then right through the city of Jacksonville, and then finishing at a state park about halfway between Jacksonville and Amelia Island. We have lead a number of rallies in the past and blown it on the last day. This time we'd like to avoid that. Other than our rain-soaked segment on Tuesday, and the run to the Garlits Museum this morning, this rally had been pretty "easy" (in fact one of the Morgan guys was complaining about it being "too easy" at the hotel bar last night!) We were tied with at least 5 other cars at this point, so all we had to do is zero this segment and we'd at least be guaranteed a tie for first place.

Dad was itching to be at the head of the pack at the checkout, theorizing that the later the days gets, the worse our traffic will be through Jacksonville. I agreed, so we said "good bye" to Jean, thanked her for the company, and headed back to the car.

After the hike back, it became obvious that many other Rallyists had the same idea. There were a dozen there in the parking lot sun, pacing around their cars, waiting for the checkpoint to open. We got ourselves all ready too... laying out the route book, zeroing the odometer (and making sure the set button is OK... we don't want a repeat of this morning's odo troubles!). The checkpoint opens and there is something of a parking-lot melee as we all try and pull out and line up. We end up being a few cars back in the line rather than being first. The Packard is the first one out. The route-finding is pretty simple. My job is to goad Dad into staying ahead of the TSD curve, by closely watching the miles, the clock, and telling him when he needs to go faster. And of course: DON'T GET LOST!

We get out on a long straight road that runs along the beach. It has houses on both sides, with occasional long stretches of tall dune grass. The road is straight, but there is just enough traffic to keep us bottled up in a pack, with rally and non-rally cars poking along. Dad manages to pass here and there, including all the rally cars in front of us, and we find ourselves about three cars from the slow-poke at the head of the pack. One by one, they pull off onto driveways, and finally the slow-poke in a Jeep makes a left turn and nothing but open road lies ahead. "Fly like the wind!" I tell Dad. I know that this stretch will likely be the ONLY place in the segment where we'll enjoy open road. Dad puts the hammer down and we make some time, but not much according to my calculations. We stay this course for many miles, occasionally having to slow down in traffic, but mostly able to cruise at 50-60 MPH. This gains us a valuable buffer as we approach Jacksonville. Our route takes a long left-hand curve to the east like a backwards question mark, around the bay that Jacksonville sits on. There are no possible short-cuts to take, no way of avoiding the inevitable traffic slowdowns that await. Sure enough as we approach the metro area our average speed slows to below the calculated average for the segment and I start to do the Navigator's Fret. We get lucky and are able to get through a few yellow lights. Later we are behind a school bus and I tell Dad to switch lanes. "Get on his left... NOW" ... he manages to squeeze to the left lane and we are just getting to the front of the bus when I see a yellow light start to flash... "get around him NOW!" Sure enough we are able to get back into the lane in front of the bus a second or two before the red lights go and the traffic stops for the bus stop. Close one. Then we hit some construction.... lanes are closed, cones are out, lazy guys with "stop/slow" signs... arrgh! The route says we are supposed to "Y bear right" onto a particular route, but it is obvious to me that the construction has altered that, and now the ramp goes off to the left. We manage to not miss that turn and some looser traffic and higher speeds keep me from coming undone.

(Sorry I have no pictures of this section... I was way too busy stressing out and recalculating our time/speed/distance to even think about shooting pictures. Plus we were at the head of the pack, so no pretty rally cars to shoot... just lots of dull, route clogging SUV's and stuff.)

The route now takes a northward turn, bringing us into the heart of the Jacksonville metro area. We come down off of a divided highway and onto surface streets again. As we approach a set of three stoplights traffic grinds to a complete halt. Our average speed has dropped to under 10MPH, so I'm about to go insane. Fortunately there is really nothing we can do, so I can't really lose it. Everyone else is in the same boat, and it is only going to get worse, as it is about 3 O'clock. It takes us several full cycles to get through the first two lights. People are making U-turns across the grass to get off this grid locked road. We however, must stay the course. As we crawl toward the last light it becomes obvious what has caused this problem. Some road-paving equipment and a steam roller are creeping up the right lane. Finally passing that obstacle, we were able to at least maintain something close to the average speed for the segment. However, my calculations now showed us behind. A couple of short freeway stretches allowed us to gain a little time, but it still looked like we were late. We crossed a large bridge, which put us on the north side of the bay, shortly after that we hooked right, to the east, toward our final destination.

I told Dad to go as fast as he could, which due to traffic, wasn't very fast. We were stuck behind several gravel hauling trucks, and that could only mean one thing. Construction.

We had to cross two bridges over rivers, and both were narrowed to a single lane. Great, just what we needed. By some amazing stroke of luck we pulled up to both right as the lane opened for our direction of travel. Then another miracle happened and the trucks pulled off the road one by one... it was as if the Red Sea was parting before us! "Go! Go! Go" I yelled. Dad dutifully went. We were winding along a state highway on the bay's north shore. The finish was located at a place called the "Kingsley Plantation... some sort of state park. Based on the route directions I envisioned a long straight causeway, leading across some flat wetlands to an old plantation. Maybe that was just wishful thinking, as I knew some long straight open road would be what we'd need to ensure getting there on time!

Reality, was very different.

We arrive at the Plantation, and what greets us is a nightmare that only a devious rallymaster can dream up. The road into the KIngsley Plantation is a single-lane, twisty road, lined on either side with those uniquely Southern oak trees filled with drooping Spanish Moss. This road is the last thing we need. Minutes are ticking away, and we'll be lucky to meet our check-in time. We can't really drive too fast... partially because of the twisty nature of the road, but mainly due to the fact it is single-lane. We encounter just enough oncoming cars to keep us prudent. As we twist along our check-in time is rapidly approaching.... we have less than three minutes to go when the pavement ends and we know we are near the end... about one more mile.

Then, just to frustrate us some more, we encounter a large group of teenagers wandering in a loose clump, down the MIDDLE OF THE DAMN ROAD!!! Obviously on some sort of field trip, they are goofing off and really don't care about these two stressed out guys in the Mercedes. They wait an excruciatingly long time before S L O W L Y parting enough to let us through. I was about to yell at them and tell them to expect hordes of high-speed, very late rally cars coming through, but I am running out of time and have a job to do... we now have under a minute to go, and as they part we see the double-cone marker telling us we are near the finish.

We arrive at the single cone with 30 seconds to spare. We are calculating what it will take to make the final run. We agree on a 15 second roll. I start counting down seconds, and watch Wayne Brooks running to meet us at the finish cone. We are obviously the first car, and he co-worker at the checkpoint has vanished for the moment and Wayne is visibly upset that he's alone, and expects cars to start showing up at one minute intervals.

As my count passes "45" Dad rolls the car forward and we make our final run. I count fifty, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, Dad has the car slowly creeping, eight, nine, Dad hits the accelerator, we cross the line as I say "zero"... Wayne's clock agrees with ours, and he takes our scorecard and confirms we zeroed the segment. We high-five each other and are very happy. We have run a roughly thousand mile rally with a perfect score for the first time since we started doing this in 1998. Wayne sees us off with a smile and wave. He's happy for us too, as he's worked every Vintage Rallies event we've ever run, and seen our trials, tribulations, breakdowns and near-victories. Now the only thing that remains is to navigate to the Amelia Island Plantation Resort just over 16 miles away... and make our way back down that one-lane road, upstream against wave upon wave of close running, or very late rally drivers!

We gingerly make our way back down the one-lane road... peering around trees, and honking prior to going around blind curves. Sure enough, we get about halfway down it when the deluge begins... rally cars coming in ones, twos and larger packs... all looking as frantic as we did, but most driving even faster than we had the nerve to... they were obviously very late! We passed about a dozen cars by the time we hit the highway and turned left, and away from the incoming cars.

The navigation was simple... stay on this road until we get to the hotel. I let Dad perform that navigational feat while I call home on my cell phone. Nobody is home, so I leave a message saying "We won!" It is true, we have won the whole rally, what remains to be seen is how many others also "won"... we started the day tied with several other cars, and if they manage to zero all three segments today, we will share the winners circle.

We are OK with that though. We're just happy to finally pull it off after all these years.

We arrive at the hotel in high spirits, check back in, wander up to our room, and make phone calls. Later we dress up in our coats and ties, and I head down for a drink in the bar before dinner, Dad says he'll be down later. I sit down in the lobby with my laptop and start doing some photo editing. As I am sitting there Rich Taylor comes up to me and asks if he can interrupt for a second. I say "sure"... and he asks "I don't know how to ask this, but how on earth did you zero that last segment?" I reply "We drove like madmen, and got real lucky a couple of times with regards to constructions zones." He said, "Well congratulations because you are the only ones who did." I'm thrilled, but just smile and say "thanks"... he continued, "Normally I'd throw out a segment like that when so many are so late, and have so much trouble... but if you guys could do it, then what can I say? Plus the Fraser's managed to be less than a minute late in that pretty little old Ferrari. Congratulations, you and your Dad deserve it."

He leaves to go and set up for the final banquet, and I wait for Dad, and keep working on cropping, scaling and such. I sit there working away for over 45 minutes... when I am dislodged from my concentration by my cell phone. It is my Dad, asking where I am... he is at the banquet room, and things are getting started. I pack up the computer and dash down to the dinner.

Above: Rich Taylor and the Ehle's enjoy some dinner conversation.

We had a great dinner, as usual, followed by the awards presentations.

Then Ralph Whalley regaled us with a rambling bad joke, followed by Rich Taylor handing out the awards. This is always fun, because he relates some story about each couple and car, which allows us to re-live the week. Rather than the usual hard-luck story about the Goolsbee's having a Jaguar fall apart beneath them, or of being cut off at a checkpoint by a mathmatically challenged Ferrari or Astin-Marton driver, Rich was able to relate the story of Dad and I, as two guys who after years of trying, finally pulled off a perfect score. Oh yeah, and who took a stock Mercedes-Benz 450sl and beat several hotter cars on the track! We were awarded some glass vases, and nice desktop clock. We also were given a bottle of champagne. I am not a big fan of "bubbly" (I prefer my spirits from the higlands or islands of Scotland, thank you) so I poured myself a small taste, Dad a nice big glass, and shared the rest with anyone who wanted some.

We basked in our victory for a bit, and when the banquet was over, wandered back to the bar for a celebratory whiskey, then up to our rooms, and slept well.

The next day, we began our day-and-a-half drive back to Houston. The 450sl performed flawlessly, and we arrived in good time. We enjoyed yet another victory dinner at my sister Cathy's house... enjoying the hospitality of her home and the company of her husband and my two neices. My flight home the next day was uneventful, and it was nice to come home victorious for a change.

I took the final results table from the rally, framed it, and it now sits on a bookcase in my office, with the small desktop clock next to it. It is a nice happy reminder that sometimes, even when the situation is difficult, success is still attainable if you work hard and let everyone do their job. =)

Big thanks go to Charles Goolsbee for continuing to bring me along on these crazy "car guy" events. We never fail to have a great time, even when Jaguars fall apart beneath us, or mathematically-challenged morons, (either others or ouselves!) manage to remove our chances for winning. It sure was nice to win one, especially in such a spectacular fashion. Thanks Dad.