Just got finished running California Melee X this weekend. 750 miles in 3 days covering all NorCal back country roads and highways through desert, dirt, forest, coastline, and hillbillys. Did I mention the hillbillys? More on that later. We headed out with a pack of Porsches, Alfas, Minis, Fiats, BMWs and a couple oddballs. Team 33 was driving my RHD Datsun Bluebird Coupe. First day took us from Palace of Fine Arts SF up some back ass highways north of Marin, along dirt/rock roads into Redbluff. We followed a caravan that got lost twice and ended up backtracking solo 45 minutes at 80+ MPH on the backroads to catch a group of cars. First night saw a dive hotel with one of the vintage Mini Coopers turned into a Mini-Bar. Many beers and drinks later and we were ready to head out for bad Mexi food and huge frickin' goblet margaritas. Up early on day 2 and we headed for HWY 36 - a 137 mile long 2 lane (at best) back highway of all twists and turns that led us out towards the Coast. After lunch in the way-too-cute Ferndale, we headed out on the most bumpy 5MPH switchback laden road to the coast. My co-driver shit a brick as we passed cars at 60MPH while approaching 5MPH hairpins with cliffs on the side. I guess he didn't know I had the kung-fu kick going on the brake pedal. We got lost in BFE and stopped at a hillbilly market to verify directions. 6 old farts out front smoking weed and talking shit about Mexicans. I wanted to say, "buenos dias, mother fuckers!", but figured I'd get deliveranced. The store had stickers everywhere saying "We vote pro gun". Too bad they didn't vote Pro Hygene. Back on the road and into a hi speed dirt run, drifting and e-braking around the corners until Mr. Sheriff came by. He just gave us the evil eye. Good thing or we would have had to use confusing big words on him with 3 syllables or more. We ended up taking an extra 50 miles, yet with my pro-dumbass no fear of death driving, we came in with the first 1/3 of the cars. More debauchery and drinking ensued. Damn Vodka and Lemon Chello. Damn beer. Damn shitty American beer. Our dirtbag room smelled like a gang of bikers had a combo smoke and fart-fest the entire week before and the hotel just tried to cover it up with lysol. It was like someone shit a pinetree into an ashtray. I had to get up and go sleep in my car by 330AM. Day 3 and the run home. More backroads past the 101 and then after lunch, we hit the most insane highway ever - Stewarts Point-Skaggs Springs Road - leading from Cloverdale to HWY 1 above Salt Point State park. We chased a Fiat 850 Sport Coupe through fifty miles of crazy ass cliff roads. The CHP screamed at us as we passed a rolled semi. We ripped down a set of 15 MPH S curves at 65 MPH. The road narrowed to a single lane as we headed head on with a logging semi at hi speed through the S curves. You gotta remember, in a right-hand-drive car the passenger is heading straight on with death. As we slid around the logging truck inside one of the S turns I saw the cliff next to me and the logging truck on the right. Then I noticed my co-driver hitting an imaginary brake pedal and turning white as a ghost. Oh shit, vomit is about to come. We pulled over so his hung-over destroyed head and gut could get some air. Also so I wouldn't get puke on my interior. 4 more hours of racing to go, but I could see he was worse for wear. We just cruised the rest of the run along the Redwoods and along the coast til we were back in SF. Pictures and shakey-ass almost-crying in-car video to follow.