Tunachuckers Can-O'-Blog

Check out the Southern Discomfort coverage on Facebook.  Four pictures of Tunacuckers...

http://www.facebook.com/#!/album.php?page=1&aid=146576&id=36766739494

What?

Really?

The drain plug did what?  Where is the spare motor?

When the cause of the last engine explosion, which happens to be bolted to the roof, starts to look like a viable option, you know the rest of the story.

I am truly sorry guys.

Unless you're a Monty Python fan, you're probably not a huge fan of Spam. Either the canned version or the electronic version.  However, lately on this blog we've been experiencing a bad epidemic of spam comments on all the posts.  I know there have been legitimate comments as well, but lately it seems every 4 hours or so we've been inundated with about 10-15 spam comments I have to keep deleting.  This is too much.  So unfortunately, until we can find a way to prevent this (or find out the reason we are getting all this spam), I am temporarily disabling all comments on all posts to try and curb this problem.  Hopefully, these cyber-whores will move on to another unsuspecting blog once they can no longer post comments here.  I also have a feeling perhaps we are getting hit from Twitter and RSS automatic feeds of the blog posts and we are getting bad traffic from there.  I will try to see if I can disable cross-posting on other boards and disable the RSS feeds to see if this will help.  Again, I apologize to anyone who wants to legitimately comment for the time being, but this is the next logical step in fixing this problem.

If anyone else has any questions or ideas on how to remedy this or where we are possibly getting hit from, etc. or why they are doing this, please feel free to contact Kevin about this matter. Thank you for understanding and again I apologize for disabling comments, especially over the LeMons race weekend!

If you've ever watched the cult-ish flick "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas", you'll recall a scene where the intrepid Hunter S. Thompson is wandering around in the desert, dust blowing everywhere, his face so bundled up in rags all that is visible is his trademark cigarette holder protruding from within.  Motorcycles were roaring all about, it was ultimate chaos. 

Imagine now, a scene not completely dissimilar:  it's the dead center of South Carolina.  February.  Its pouring down rain, a sandy, silty mud pervading every horizontal surface.  Race cars thundering to life and everyone bundled up to ward off hypothermia.  This is the Southern Discomfort.  The 24 Hours of LeMons South, Winter 2010.

There is currently a flood warning for the town of Kershaw...which just happens to be where I am typing from right now.  As McCall says, that's a darker shade of green than we've ever seen before.  Never fear, the Tunachuckers are ensconsed within the comfortable, dry, propane-heated confines of a car port and several dozen blue tarps.  Katie and I arrived this morning around 9AM, to find Matt, Gary, Alicia, Anthony and Jamie crawling out of their pop-up camper and conversion van.  We immediately set to work erecting the carport, and set a World Record Time for putting the thing together.  We were motivated.  Rain, cold, and the real possibility of losing digits will do that.  Of course, as soon as we had some rudimentary protection from the elements, the grill was unloaded and breakfast preparations began. 

We weren't here for an hour and the fire department was notified of our presence.

Luckily, they were able to extinguish our bacon grease fire using good old fashioned South Carolina swamp water:

We were able to salvage most of breakfast; a carton of eggbeaters, and most of 2 pounds of bacon.  The bagels, however, ended up blackened.

On the plus side, the conflagration warmed up the carport considerably, and neither the tarps nor the carport cover got singed at all...probably due to them being manufactured in  the People's Republic of China, likely out of a special secret proprietary mix of asbestos and lead. 

Meanwhile, there were other, actual race events going on.  We passed tech with low-flying colors- the first time ever we haven't had to make any repairs to the car for the eagle-eyed tech inspectors to declare it (sort-of) track worthy.  BS Inspection was the usual -bye-, though the judges did take the time to instruct some other, possibly budget-busting teams that our car was the way to do LeMons proper.  Once again, we were honored, and presented the judges with a couple of jars of our Famous Apple Pie, which they seem to really like despite (because of) it being brewed in a radiator.

It continues to rain torrentially here.  Luckily, we have hot chili, cold beer, wi-fi, and several heaters.  Additional tarps have been added in an attempt to qualify our shanty for Obama's energy conservation tax credits.  We'll let you know how that goes.  Meantime, continue to check in here for updates throughout the weekend, as long as the laptop I'm typing on doesn't get waterlogged and short out. 

Chicago isn't a bad town.  But, at this moment in time, its not exactly where I want to be.  Luckily, in a few short hours, I won't be.  That's when my flight finally leaves O'Hare and makes a beeline for the Queen City- Charlotte, NC.  From there, I'll drive home, pick up the trailer and Katie, head to Rob's house, nab the Volvo, and head for Kershaw, SC. 

Home of Carolina Motorsports Park.  The future crime scene of Southern Discomfort: Winter 2010 24 Hours of LeMons South.

I've been here in Chi-town since Sunday night, and the timing of this little extracurricular couldn't have been worse.  I was afraid I might not make it back for the race.  But, luck shone upon me.  Still I have to leave again Monday morning and head back to Chicago.  But that's hardly worth worrying about.  I'll be back for the race. 

The rest of the Tunachuckers have been absolutely pitching in to make up for me being out of the picture.  Last night, Rob, Anthony, and McCall called me from my house to let me know they were picking up the grill, propane tanks, heater, and all the tools they could lay their hands on.  Katie's taken care of all the food.  Matt's landing in Kershaw first, the Shock Force of the Tunachuckers, to stake a claim on some prime real estate near the starting line and a power outlet.  He emailed me this morning from his Blackberry:

"Trunk is full of labatts, molson, hoffman hot dogs and camping gear. We should be good to go."

White hots and LaBatt's.  Man, I can't wait to get there.