Well as luck would have it, upon
our return from the campervan of fun tour we found ourselves staring down the
barrel of the 4th of July.
With my many years of American television in toe, I was expecting a day
of over-exaggerated Americana, fireworks, chest bumping and booze. So to prep for this momentous event Toni and
I thought we should go all out. We
needed a checklist:
- Muscle Car
- Fireworks
- Americana
- Alcohol
And so it began. The plan was to hire a muscle car, drive to Nevada
for fireworks (because apparently this is where the big stuff lives) and dress
for the occasion. So it was off to the
internet. It took a little but
eventually I managed to hire an “Adrenaline Series” V8 muscle car through
Budget Rentals. Now this could have been
a GT Mustang, Chevy Comaro or a Dodge Challenger, no guarantees. I was really hoping for the Dodge Challenger
but! As luck would have it again, when I
went to pick the car up from the Oakland Airport there in front of me sat a
beautiful gloss black Dodge Challenger.
It was the only one in the lot and my only goal was to get that
car! Luckily the two ladies behind the
counter were receptive to a bit of Australian charm. They switched the booking on the car and gave
it to me! Hazah! As a precautionary measure I had purchased
the full suite of insurances because the US has some pretty serious liability issues. I think the comment made to me by one of the
rental ladies was “you can write this car off and it won’t cost you a dime. Just turn it off and walk away. Now go have some fun!” What a thing to say to me of all people. But they didn’t know that and neither did
they need to. And so my love affair with
American muscle cars began.
I waited all of a couple of
minutes until I was just out of sight of the rental place before I put the
hammer down. The 5.8L Hemi V8 sure
enough didn’t disappoint! First stop, the
American Apparel clothing store for some sweat American threads and head bands. This day had to include head bands.
So we had an afternoon to hoon
before setting off the next morning for Lake Tahoe and Nevada. And hoon we did. That poor car was either set to idle or
hammer time. I was loving life. I was also thankful for the distinct lack of
po-po (American slang for police).
The next morning was an early
start. We packed the car with provisions
and set out on making Lake Tahoe in half the usual time. As we approached we discovered that every
other man and his ridiculously large SUV had fated the same plan. Result: wall to wall traffic. At a pace unsuited to a hood full of Hemi
grunt we arrived at Lake Tahoe only to find the most disappointing of
scenes. The 4th of July is
just a nice family day out! No drunken
chest bumping, no gun shooting, no high fives, not even a dose of Americana
enough to kill a horse. I had been
gyped! I was expecting an American
version of our Australia day but bigger, with drunken louts running amuck in
paddocks trying to run their mates over with their utes etc, etc. Obviously with an American slant to the whole
affair. But alas no. Well stuff these guys, I was going to do my
own version of what I thought should fit the bill. So it was to the car, foot to the floor and
off to Nevada.
Relinquishing the reigns!
Well after a fair drive and a few
stops to ask locals for directions to the nearest fireworks stall we came up
empty. The promised ample abundance of
deadly deadly fun time explosives was proving ever elusive. So taking a punt and tracking the bulk of the
people we went to the centre of downtown Reno for a try. Here I found a market place full of happy
people. This seemed like a good place to
find fireworks... But still no. Getting jacked with the situation I thought I
would ask that group of police over there since after all fireworks are legal
and they know the area better than anyone.
I approached the policeman with the most impressive moustache for no
other reason than he had the coolest moustache.
After asking them if they could give me a hand and explaining I was from
Australia and keen to celebrate the 4th of July, I hit them up on
where to find fireworks. The guy with
the moustache immediately looked at his partner and the group gave me a kind of
puzzled stare. Hmmm, I thought. “Son, fireworks are illegal in Nevada” said
the moustached officer. I retorted with
a “you have gotta be kidding me!
Everyone has told me to go to Nevada for the good stuff. I have just traveled 6 hours!” After a little discussion and learning the
ins and outs of the laws I was told that unfortunately I had been sold a
dud. Thanking the officers and with
clear disappointment on my face I was set to move off when the moustached
officer came at me with something remarkable.
He said “Unfortunately fireworks aren’t legal in Nevada....but if you
did want to get some, I would recommend going...” and then he gave me the name of a place! What a bloody legend! So with this address seared into my memory I
quickly headed back to the car and hit it into the GPS. Ahhh! Another 1.5 hours away! But it was a guaranteed spot for fireworks... Unfortunately we had wasted so much time
getting to this point, another 3 hours to the trip was just too much. So we canned it all and headed for home.
On the way home, Toni took us on
a little diversion to find a place for us to better run the Challenger through
its paces... She had found a spot on the
GPS called Bear Flats or something like that.
Sounded like a flat area to have some fun. Wrong.
Heading up the mountain road past the hillbillies and their gun shooting
of stumps we ended up at the top of a mountain where the road turned from paved
to paved and narrow and finally to dirt.
Ah well the GPS said we could get out by driving foreward and so we
did. On the odd occasion I may have been
a little heavy on the gas around the odd bend and down the occasional straight. This was quickly countered by Toni screaming
at me and the odd punch thrown. Later
she told me that mean she was having fun!
Women!?!?
So some 17 miles of dirt track
rallying and we popped out onto a paved road.
The car was filthy but rearing for more.
So more we gave it. Now, I feel I
have to share a bit of a back storey here.
Certain people who privilege from my choice to keep them anonymous have
been giving me grief about not changing my Facebook profile since I started on
Facebook some 6 years ago. My counter to
this was that I liked the photo I had and I would not change it for anything
less than awesome. What would be more
awesome than me burning out in an American muscle car on the 4th of
July in America?
Insert cheesy grin...
The setup to this moment was
quite funny actually. Toni was fed up
with looking for a place to give the car some so she started partitioning to
just do it on the windy mountain road we were on. The one with the odd car coming past. I was reluctant but soon gave in. Pulled over on the shoulder of the road I had
Toni stand in front of the car on the other side of the road armed with my
camera. Putting all the Challenger
muscle down we made sweet photographic history and we were doing a bang up job
of it until a car rounded the bend on the other side of the road. Now a few things I should mention. Toni was on the other side of the road
too. The road had about one foot of
shoulder. Toni was in bright red high heels
and I had just made a heap more smoke than realised. Result...None could see a thing and Toni knew
she had to get onto my side of the road.
Running around like a high heeled chicken with its head freshly off she
blindly ran through the smoke in the general direction of the car using tiny
little high speed steps as any lady does running in high heels. Somewhere amongst the smoke was a car
travelling at some decent speed. Finding
the car Toni quickly jumped in but I couldn’t hoof it anywhere because I still
couldn’t see a thing! As the smoke
cleared I looked to the other side of the road to see the other car stopped and
a bloke just shaking his head. I gave a
grin and then legged it with all 5.8L of Hemi pounding the ground. Good times.
In a random turn of events we
found a roadside fireworks stand on the way home and bought some fireworks of
the smaller variety. By the end of the
day it was too late and it had been too long for us to go out and let them rip. We were pooped!
The next day Toni was off to work
and I was off to see the large elephant seals of Anos Nevo at a bazillion miles
an hour. Eh, they were cool, but getting
there in the car was cooler. This was my
last day of hooning and I was loving it.
Later that afternoon I returned the car, shed a tear and moved on.
These guys are hilarious when they move up and down the beach. Like 3 tonne caterpillars.
The last set of events worth
noting from the US was the house party that had been in the making before my
arrival. The details of the party were
vague at the least but I was told it would be a hippy event to remember. And that it was... and that it was...
Glory shot. Merica!
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