by Jeff Perry

Our drive began around the breakfast table at COCO's in Escondido, where the discussions (naturally) centered on cars. As we awaited our food, Scott Harrison entertained us with a story of when he owned a three-cylinder/two-stroke powered SAAB 90 automobile. One chilly night during Scott's college days in upper state New York, he realized that oil had not been added to the gasoline after he had refueled. Not wanting to wait until morning, because he might dirty his good clothes, he went back outside into the snow, in his pajamas, and added the oil. He then took the car for a drive down his favorite back road to thoroughly mix the gasoline and two-stroke oil, when suddenly he came upon an icy curve and shot straight out into a snow covered field where he came to rest in a graveyard. When he tried to back out, the front wheels just spun freely because the car's sheet-metal underside had caused the vehicle to plane on top of the snow. With no one knowing where he was, and no other cars traveling this deserted road, the situation had quickly changed for the worse. Necessity being the mother of invention, Scott put the car into reverse gear and let it idle while he grabbed the front bumper and started rocking the vehicle up and down - allowing it to intermittently make traction as he retraced its tracks back to the road. Along the way, the car regained enough traction to take off with Scott hanging on to the open driver's door as he scrambled through foot high snow to make his way back inside the moving car - which he finally did. When he arrived back, dirty, scratched, and beet red, his buddies asked "what happened to you?!"  (Next time you meet Scott, ask him to tell you the story about burning rubber in that little SAAB).

Upon leaving the restaurant, we met two gentlemen in the parking lot who came to view our vehicles after reading the Car Calendar announcement. Some of you might remember one of the men for he attended the '94 SDVSA West Coast Convention where he showed snapshots of his P1800 modified with a V8 engine & transmission which were transplanted from a Mustang. Unfortunately for him, he never fInished the car but instead sold it to an individual who exported it back to Europe. He now regrets that decision and said he would eventually get himself another one. We also got the opportunity to feast our eyes on Mary Anne Sieverts' new white, tan leather interior, S70 (a.k.a. T5) sedan. I think her car is just a bit more comfortable than her husband Kurt's 1800S.

Under blue skies we made our way via SR 78 to Dudley's Bakery in Santa Ysabel, where we rendezvoused with Bob & Del Skoog at 10:35 a.m. -only five minutes late (based on the Wheels & Wings Drive, Bob should applaud us on our improved timeliness!). After picking up supplies (i.e., pastries) our caravan set course for Borrego Springs and felt the outside temperature rise as we descended Montezuma Grade (S22) to the floor of  Borrego Valley. In town, we stopped at our usual location, Christmas Circle Park which is situated in the middle of a roundabout, where we settled under the shade of a tree to visit and picnic. As always, SDVSA provided drinks. Afterwards, we all headed to the Anza Borrego State Park Visitor Center where we viewed some blooming flowers and toured the exhibits.

As we called it a day and headed in our own directions home, Alan, Goran, and I made our way back to I -15 from Ramona by way of Highland Valley Road. This was the best part of the drive! As the road became narrower and switch backs developed, I attempted to leave Goran and Alan behind by exploiting the full lateral traction of my 165 profile tires. At each subsequent curve I was more coordinated, faster, and louder too! (my tires squeal easily); however, Goran had no intention of being left behind, for his white 1800S was never out of my rear view mirror for more than a moment (Alan was following Goran in his 544). As this impromptu competition was ensuing, we became enveloped by a pack of Ninja motorcyclists; from which, we quickly became a commingled mass of rapidly moving vehicles, as the bikers strategically worked their way past the Volvos one-by-one by signaling to those behind them when it was clear to pass. At the road's end, these bikers were long gone when we made our departing good-byes at the base of Mule Hill in Rancho Bernardo.

Keep `em rollin'.

-jp