[24 Hours of Lemons Racers Mike from the famed Tunachuckers sent us this little portrait of driving the “Plymford” to work in the Washington, D.C. area. You can read Mike’s write-up of the Plymford’s build right here.]
The air was crisp, with a hint of dampness, as the sliver of a moon hung above the soon-to-be rising sun. Purple, followed by a bright, bursting red, followed by a hazy blue crept up the horizon.
And all I could hear was loud.
The first half of the trip had been dark. But still loud. After tanking up with 8.88 gallons of premium at the sign of the Tiger, I crested the big hill before the 4 lanes of the state road turned into the 4 lanes of the interstate spur. The engine puttering along at about 3000 RPM. Staying in the right lane and going with traffic. Periodically I flipped on the “dome” light (a Harbor Freight LED light zip-tied to the roll cage) and checked the gauges. 185 degrees. 40 pounds of oil. All was well.
A periodic screeching noise caught my attention, and for a few seconds a light panic overcame me. Then peeked over my left shoulder and saw the Metro train pacing me, steel wheels on steel track, down the highway median.
The Beltway was fairly easy—I’d taken care to wake up a little earlier than usual, and, coupled with the generally light Friday traffic, I only spent a few minutes creeping along at 10-15 mph. Oh yeah: Turn on the fan! Merging on the I-95 was a bit of a trick, but with patience I was able to resume a cruising posture in the second-to-left lane. Once traffic opened up a bit, I got on her, nailing 4500 RPM for a brief stretch and the cacophony of the exhaust ping-ponging off the Jersey barriers. As I coasted down the offramp, the side of my eye caught a brief flash, followed by a steady red light. One of the fuses had popped. I glanced around. Everything seemed to be working. I was about a mile from work, so I pressed on.
After narrowly avoiding a clueless bimbo in a BMW SUV, I pulled into the work parking lot. As I flipped off the lights switch, the red light at the fuse went off. OK, popped lights fuse. No biggie- Won’t be needing those the rest of the day, hopefully.
As I walked into the office, I noticed my armpits were damp. My ears were slightly sore, whether from the touch of chill in the air or the hour of exhaust thrubbing they’d just endured, I could not tell. My hair was a mess and I felt dehydrated. I felt like…I’d just gotten out of a race car.
Have your own (short and succinct) Lemons stories with photos? Email Eric Rood (Eric@24HoursOfLemons.com) to share your Lemons tales.