REDNECK RACER SLOT CAR CLUB

Race Report for January 31, 2009

2009-02-07T09:01:00.000-08:00

Location: Ricky's place

Ya’ll I apologize for this late race report. I won’t go into details as to why I didn’t get er done sooner but long story short; I never should have let Ricky Jr. put a goldfish bowl on top of my computer so that he could use the computer’s heat to make his fish Boony more comfortable.

Now on to the good stuff: First things first. As you all may recall, Jake lost all his cars except for one, a couple of weeks ago on highway 26. Good news, Jerry of Jerry’s Snuff-and-Stuff has issued a check to Jake in the amount of five-hundred dollars to help Jake rebuild his stable. When asked why he did it, Jerry said that he had a soft spot for slot car racers because he used to be one in a past life and also because Jake has for years, weekly bought a butt load of snuff for his maw. By the time Junior bought this weeks supply of snuff, he only had about $450 left to buy cars.

Racing was fun and uneventful for a change with Crazy Ed winning the F1 and IRL classes. Jake’s new Jeff Gordon NASCAR earned a trip to the winners circle that night as well as Randy’s Camaro in the Trans Am class. Everyone remember to thank Randy for bringing some of his pappy’s home-made baloney balls for snacks. Remember there is no racing tonight because of the duck-n-deer hunting expo and no racing next week because of the Jerky Barn’s yearly customer appreciation party.

Ricky

Race Report 1-24-2009

2009-01-25T16:09:00.000-08:00

Location: Randy's Barn

Well, when I arrived at Randy’s barn around 5:30 Saturday afternoon, I was met at the side entrance by Randy’s wife Anna as she was coming out. She told me Randy was in the slot car room and needed some help with something. I had no idea that the task ahead of me as well as the rest of our slot car club would make each one of us want to punch a little old lady in the mouth.

You see, Randy’s Mema, (that’s grandma for you city folk) is about ninety years old lives with Randy and his family or I guess I should say that Randy’s family lives with mema seeing as she owns the old farm that they live on.

Now Mema has been known to get into some trouble from time to time. Once she actually set fire to Randy’s prized taxidermied bloodhound “Blueboy”. That dog had been one heck of a hunting dog to Randy and one very good pet for Randy’s children who loved that dog more than anything. Mema never particularly liked the dog and I guess more than a few folks suspected she had something to do with the dog’s demise but I won’t go into detail as it still makes me shudder to think about it. Anyway, Randy got Crazy Ed who is a Taxidermist, to fix old Blueboy up and stuff him good. That dog looked so natural when Crazy was finished with him that you just felt like petting him whenever you saw him and that is exactly what Randy and his family did because they put him in the living room and pretended that he was alive as you and I.

Mema however did not think it was a good idea for Randy and Anna to be teaching their children that Blueboy was still with them and made a point to thump his nose with here finger whenever the children were around to see it. “See thare”, she would say. “He’s deader than a coke-cola bottle”. Everyone knew she was only trying to teach the kids but the kids already understood that Blueboy wasn’t really there and that was just his shell but that does not erase from the minds of those poor kids the look on Blueboy’s face as he went up in flames the night before last Thanksgiving.

Seems as though Mema thought she could make her point to the kids once and for all that night. “Chilren”, she said as she lit a Marlboro with her Bic lighter. “If that dog was still alive don’t ya’ll think he would flinch when I do this”? At that point she held the Bic up to Blueboy’s ear and that was all it took. It was a good thing that Randy was close by or it may have took the whole house down when that hound turned into a fireball. Randy’s description of that evening is hard to stomach for a dog lover so I won’t go into it. It did take some counseling sessions with the school councilor to help the children cope though.

Anyhow, I can’t believe I got off on a tangent like that so back to slot cars and Randy’s barn; He and I are standing there and in the slot car room as we call it, which is actually an insulated room within the barn, which by the way is a rather large barn, Randy’s beautiful 4-lane 80 foot track has drywall, insulation and pieces of wood laying on top it in turns one and two. The mess was without doubt from the gaping hole in the wall right above that area of the raceway.

I asked him what had happened and he said follow me and I’ll show you. We went through a door that led into the main barn area and sitting in the driver’s seat of Randy’s brand new John Deere 110 TLB backhoe, was Mema. “She wanted to take it for a spin I reckon”, Randy told me. Mema had managed to lift the bucket scoop that was on the front of the John Deere and ram it right through the wall of the slot car room. “I know how to drive a traker”, the old woman said as she looked down on us with disdain in her eyes and snuff dribbling out one corner of her mouth.

By now the other fellas were arriving for a night of slot racing so Randy shuffled Mema back into the house while the rest of us started cleanup on the track. In less than an hour we had removed all the debris, vacuumed the track, and taped heavy plastic over the two foot by five foot hole in the wall.

We raced until 10PM with Randy not even finishing a race. Seems that he was so mad he couldn’t focus and kept de-slotting. I however had a great night and won every class we raced except for IRL. I was feeling pretty good as I left the barn and walked over to my car to leave until glanced over toward the house. All the lights were on except Mema’s bedroom light and that’s when I saw through the dark window, a flash from a Bic lighter that cast an eerie glow on Mema’s face as she lit a Marlboro and stared me down as I loaded my pitbox and drove away. I was creeped out all the way home as I thought about Blueboy.

Results:

Nascar – Ricky
F1 – Ricky
Rally – Ricky
IRL – Jake

Racing will be at my house nest week. See you then.
Ricky

Race Report

2009-01-18T16:53:00.000-08:00

Saturday 1-17-2009
Location: Earl's house.

In all the years that I have known Jake, I have never seen him as upset as he was Saturday night during our club race over at Earl’s house. I’ve seen him tore up over things before, like the time someone stole his game-camera he had hidden in a bush behind his house so that he might get a picture of his daughter’s boyfriend as he crawled out a back window, but this was worse. By the way, for those wondering, it wasn’t that Jake was upset about loosing the pricy camera but more because of the images on it.

You see Jake doesn’t have that good of a memory and that is why he forgot he even had a game-camera hidden in a bush back there and it just happen to be the same bush that he was within ten feet of and facing as he relived himself, in broad daylight mind you, while in his backyard working on his horse-shoe pit. He never did find out who stole the camera and a few days after it was stolen someone had printed out and hung up a few of those “bush” photos around the town square. He couldn’t show his face in town for weeks. Yes sir, that was about as upset I have ever seen him until last Saturday night.

It seems as though Jake had a bit of bad luck on his way to Earl’s place. He had been getting ready to leave his place with pit box in hand as he got out to his pickup truck only to realize he had left his keys in the house. He set his box full of Scalextric and Slot-it slot cars on the tailgate of the 2004 Chevy Silverado, which he always kept in the down position because he swore it saved him gas, and went back to the house to get his keys. He had meant to come right back but noticed that the Jerry Springer show was on and so he sat down with his wife to watch the last fifteen minutes of the show with her. By that time he realized he was running behind schedule which meant that the bean dip might be gone by the time he got to Earl’s house, and in haste he totally forgot about the pit box on the tailgate and away he went.

I had arrived at Earl’s house only seconds before Jake did and I was watching him as he looked in the backside of the crew cab for his pit box and noticed his face turn pale and his eyes grow wide as he slammed shut the rear door and stepped over to peak into the bed of the truck. I know for a fact that I heard him gasp like he had just spilled a cup of McDonald's coffee in his lap. He slowly turned to me as tears starting to form in his eyes as and said “well I don’t guess I’ll be racin tonight Ricky”. He explained the situation and at my urging we jumped into my car to make the back-track trip to find his slot cars.

We had went about eight of the ten miles of highway 26 between Earl’s house and Jakes when we saw the cars, or should I say we saw what was left of the cars. We pulled over to the shoulder and got out. We just stood and stared, listening to the crunch-crunch sound made by each passing car as is drove through the colorful field of scattered plastic that blanketed the eastbound lane.

There was nothing left it seemed and then Jake saw it on the side of the road. It was his #70 Warren Tope 69 Scalextric Mustang. Other than the rear bumper, it had survived simply because of where it had come to rest, which was off the roadway. Jake waited for a break in the traffic then retrieved the car. Not a word was spoken on the drive back to Earl’s house.

Now you see, Jake had never really been a strong contender in any class but his worst class of car by far was yup, you guessed it; the Trans Am class. But what could he do now? The Mustang was the only car he had left. Every slot car that he owned had been in that huge Plano tacklebox, which incidentally was destroyed along with the cars on the "highway of shame" as it soon became known to us in the slot car club.

Once back at Earl’s house we found everyone waiting for us. I explained what had transpired and what happened next was just as astounding as Jake’s cars being ground down to their basic elements on highway 26. We ran the Trans Am race first and Jake won all six of the races in that series. It was not a fluke; we all raced as hard as we could and Jake still beat us and not once during the race did he utter a single word which was unlike him as he was the king of trash talking during races. Was it divine mercy being poured on Jake to comfort him over his loss of slot cars or was it simply that he was a better driver when he kept his mouth shut while racing. During that silent and surreal Trans Am race we all saw a quieter side to Jake and liked it as we tried hard to beat him on the track. Unfortunately Jake realized that trash talking while racing may have been affecting his race concentration, so he simply saved it until the class results were official before running off at the mouth but you know what? None of us minded one bit.

Remember next weeks race is at Randy's barn.
Racing starts at 6pm.

Race Report

2009-01-11T20:07:00.000-08:00

Saturday, January 10, 2009
Location: Dale's place

I don’t know where to begin telling ya’ll about our night of racing. It started off on a bad note when we were all arriving at Dale’s trailer. One of the steps leading up to Dale’s porch is missing and I guess the rest are about rotted out because when Junior made a wide stride over the missing step, the one he stepped onto busted and down Junior went. Now Junior would be the first to admit that the step may not have broke with just anybody seeing as how he weighs about 350 pounds. Anyway, all he did was land on one of Dale’s dogs and rip his overalls, his, not the dog’s. Dog is ok. Racing was delayed about fifteen minutes while Junior was cleaning the mud off his shoes.

Once we got going though it was Junior’s night for sure as he won three of the four types of cars that we raced. Overall it was a good night of hard racing and great eats as Dale always lays out a nice spread of potted meat and pork rinds. Now for those that don’t know, Dale’s slot car track is actually in his living room and part of his kitchen. His living room has no furniture at all. The drivers stand is along one wall and things do get cramped in there with all of us and Dale’s dogs but if you drop a clump of potted meat, don’t worry cause the dogs get that up real fast.

Congrats Junior!

2009-01-07T19:02:00.000-08:00

Slot Car racing at Dale's place.
Just a reminder that this week's race will be at Dale's place.
Buster, Dale wants you to bring the tires you made for him.
Also, Dale asked me to remind everyone that the second step going up onto the porch still has not been replaced. I am to remind Junior not to park as close to the hitch of Dale's trailer next time because you shook the place pretty badly when you hit it last time when leaving.

RACE REPORT:

2009-01-03T21:35:00.001-08:00

LOCATION: Jeff’s House

What a night of slot car racing we had. We got off to a late start because Crazy Ed came close to punching Junior in the mouth because Junior, being the 2008 slot car racing points champion of our club was entitled by the bylaws of our club to take from any member a slot car for keeps. The problem is that nobody bothered to tell our newest member, Crazy Ed, about the clubs bylaws. For those that don’t know, there is a reason Eddie is called Crazy Ed; he’ll haul off and do something crazy without any warning such as punching Junior in the mouth and giving him a fat lip.

Junior didn’t even see trouble. As most of the club was warming up on the track, Junior had been wandering around the pit tables for about 15 minutes looking for a prize that was fitting to his 2008 slot car racing champion status. He finally saw it poking its cowl out of one of Crazy Ed’s pitbox shelves. So with Crazy Ed sitting there in front of his pitbox oiling his Scalextric Mustang for the upcoming Trans Am race, Junior leans in and reaches past Ed’s shoulder and takes Crazy Ed’s Slot-it Alfa Romeo 33 from its pitbox cubby hole. With a pat to Crazy’s back and a “thank ya buddy”, Junior strolls back to his own pit area near the back of the room and stables the hard earned Romey into one of the empty cubby holes of his own pitbox.

Now If you know Crazy Ed, and Junior being one of our youngest members, does not know Crazy as well as those that have raced him on and off since the 1960’s, I don’t have to tell you what happened next.

Crazy had followed Junior and as soon as Junior stashed the Romey and turned to go hit the head before the Trans Am race, Crazy Ed hit Junior’s head, with a stiff extended forefinger.

“What the hell Junior”, Crazy said.
“Huh?” was all Junior could say before Jeff, who had been watching the whole thing, stepped in and explained things to Crazy Ed. Well let me tell you that Crazy Ed’s eyes narrowed and his brow lowered as he thought about this rule, this bylaw that was costing him his favorite car. He tilted his head to one side then the other. I was watching Crazy’s hands to make sure they didn’t go for a gun or knife or something. By now Buster had came up behind Junior and quietly coaxed Junior to give Ed’s car back which Junior did. This seemed to make Ed happy but when he took Junior by the arm and started leading him toward the front door we all thought Junior was done for but then Crazy Ed stopped what we all assumed was Junior’s death march, right in front of his pit box and with a big smile he told Junior to help himself to any of the other cars just so long as he could keep his Alfa.

With a bit of apprehension, Junior asked if he could have one of Ed’s Cameros. Ed accommodated and we all settled in for a night of racing.

Race results:
Trans Am – Junior
Rally – Junior
F1 – Ricky
NASCAR – Crazy Ed

That’s all yall

2008 Points Winner:

2009-01-02T20:00:00.003-08:00

Well, all the points have been figured out and Junior had the most points this year even though we did not officially start keeping points until April. He finishes the year with 912 points, a mere 22 points over Crazy Ed. Congratualtions Junior. Be thinking about who you want to take a slot car from this coming Saturday night.

All, remember that slot car racing location has been changed to Jeff's place.P.S.Jeff said to tell you all that his little sister was in town visiting and if he caught any of you staring at her he will break your trigger finger.

CLUB MEMBER NOTE:

2009-01-02T20:00:00.001-08:00

Buster, if you read this call Dale. He has been trying to reach you.Do not call his work, he feels like his job might be on the line lately, ever since that dump-truck/sandwich shop ordeal.

LOCATION CHANGE NOTICE:

2009-01-02T19:59:00.001-08:00

We will be slot car racing at Jeff’s house this Saturday night instead of Dale’s because Dale’s wife Wanda needs the house so she can host an intervention for her sister.Slot Car Racing starts at 6pm.

Race Night Report 12-27-2008

2009-01-02T19:58:00.000-08:00

Location: Crazy Ed's house
I was standing there watching as Earl’s car slowly sank to the bottom of the punch bowl. I could only imagine what thoughts were running through the little plastic brain of the little plastic driver. Was it not enough that his legs were cut off above the knees, in addition to the strain of driving an MG Lola without being able to reach the pedals, but now he was drowning in a red sea of punch? Oh the humanity of it I thought. At that same moment I noticed Glenn, who had been standing next to the punchbowl when Earl’s Lola was launch from the track. Glenn had only heard a whoosh of air as the Lola glided beneath one of his chins before his face was drenched in what might as well have been blood, based on the big man’s high pitch scream as his eyes were blinded by fruitiness.

Meanwhile, some spectators (Jeff’s brother-n-law Jeff and his first and second wives) had seen what caused Earl’s Lola to become airborne and were still watching as the menacing cause of the mishap rolled down the hill coming out of turn five. It was taking up lanes two and three as it gained speed, leaving a nasty grease slick in its wake.The leaders were coming out of turn two with a full head of steam at about the same time Glenn had regained his composure, and then someone yelled, “look out lanes two and three. There's a hotdog coming down the hill toward turn six”! Jake only smiled as he buried the controller’s trigger coming out of turn five thinking he was safe because he was in lane four.

Mustard still coated the nose of his car as he got on the breaks to make the turn at the bottom of the long hill. But, the Hotdog had actually rolled wildly down the hill bouncing along from one side of the track and then back to the other side. Jake quickly realized that he was in Oscar Myer’s grease slick from hell.

Everything was happening in slow motion Jake later said of the inccident as he realized how he had beaten lady luck on the previous lap when approaching turn five. You see the hotdog which had fallen from Randy’s bun as Randy attempted to turn marshal a deslotted car, dropped squarely in front of Jakes's slot car. The frank had hit the scalextric track with a squishy thud and had actually bounced high enough for his Audi R10 slot car to clear the rear wing by about the thickness of the cellulose casing that once held the mystery meat during processing. The Audi emerged from a rainstorm of mustard and continued on through turn five without missing a beat. Earl on the other hand had not been so fortunate and his Lola was caught up in the horrific weenie attack and somehow launched from the track.

Earl's Lola being absent from the track only gave Jake one lap worth of breathing room and now here he was sliding toward doom toward turn six along with America's favorite ballpark food. Jake caught up with the meaty obstacle just in time to miss the turn due to too much speed from not being able to break. His car deslotted but was cushioned from the wall’s impact by the giant weenie. The spongeness of the dog deflected Jake’s car back out onto the track just in time for the rest of the pack to slide into it thus ending the race.

So there we all stood. Earl’s car in the bottom of the punchbowl; Glenn with fruit punch all over his face, and a pile of cars and one hotdog at the bottom of the straight going into turn six. You could have heard a pin drop.We leaned a lesson about eating while turn-marshalling that night and Earl learned a trick which he was penalized for a few heats later. He may not have gotten caught if not for the fact that everyone could smell the hotdog grease on his braids. Dale said he would email to anyone interested the picture he took of Crazy Ed's dog Trickle as he stood upon Jake's pit chair and licked the nose of the Audi.

Our First Post!

2009-01-02T19:54:00.000-08:00

Okay now..this is our first post on this new blog.Our Slot Car Club has been together for a good while but Quinton suggested we get ourselves a blog so here we are! Now you would think somebody named Quinton could write half way descent but sadly that's not the case here so I'll be doing my best to keep everyone informed of our slot car races. So here we go!