When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just completed a shopping spree in Ensenada, Baja, Mexico... and Carl had decided to enter the Baja Safari, a timed rally that was to be run in conjunction with the Baja 500 race.

The competitors would actually drive on the same course as the regular racers, but would start after them, and would have to drive against the clock. We join them as they leave the sign up booth and head for tech inspection.

***

"Uhh. sir, are you going to race this... thing... in the Baja Safari?"

Carl eyeballed the tech inspector. "Yeah. What about it? This here is a stretched wheelbase, four wheel drive Suburban. Ain't you ever seen one before?"

"Oh, yes... of course. But I've never seen one with a boat on the roof, a satellite dish, two trail bikes, four roll-out awnings, a fold-up porch, an external barbecue and an outside shower."

Carl beamed. "Hellsfire, boy, then you ought to take a looksee inside. You're really gonna be impressed!

They clambered up inside the huge Suburban and Carl gave the inspector the tour.

"This here's the fold down table, and over there is the stove and fridge. I keep the fishin' rods on the roof, and over there is the fold-out beds. The TV, stereo and VCR is over here and the pool table is tucked in alongside the fridge. The generator hangs out on the back rack where the big trail bike is mounted, and I got six batteries under the hood. There's two winches in case I git 'er stuck, which is highly unlikely, because I am a muchly skilled driver. And there's a half dozen other goodies I ain't even showed you. Well, whaddaya think?"

The tech inspector just stood there, jaw hanging, eyes bugged out.

***

Forty hours later, Carl and Emma were sitting in The Whale, lined up to compete in the Baja Safari. The regular racers were up ahead, roaring off the starting line, one every 30 seconds. It would be two hours before the Safari entrants rolled.

Carl bit off a plug of tobacco and grumbled. "Jeez, Emma, you'd think they'd woulda left some of our stuff in The Whale. Do you realize our truck here is practically gutted? No fridge, no tables, no beds, no TV... they even made me take the boat off the roof and both trail bikes off the bumper racks. Well, guess that's the price you gotta pay to be a big-time racer, right Emma? Emma? Emma, you OK?"

Emma had the fingernails of both hands buried into the dash, her face was pale and a large blue vein throbbed visibly in her forehead.

Carl patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. "Now, dear... don't you worry none."

Emma looked up sharply. "Worry? I'm not worried. I'm sick as a sheep dog that just ate an Army boot. I feel like I might die and I'm afraid that I won't."

Carl spit a small wad out of the window of The Whale. "No doubt it was those 14 margaritas you drank over there in Hussong's Cantina the other day. Boy, I was wondering where you got off to. And you know, it's not like you to drink much more than a glass or two of Boones Farm Strawberry Ripple wine every now and then."

Emma shuddered. "Carl, you big bozo, I was hoping to get drunk and get thrown in jail so I wouldn't have to race in this dumb race with you."

Carl raised one eyebrow. "Spit it out, Emma. What are you really trying to say? I mean, if you didn't wanna race, you shoulda said something. Well, anyways, it's too late now. We'll be up and rolling before you know it. And you're gonna have the ride of your life!"

Carl rolled forward on the crowded main street of Ensenada, which was blocked off for the start. Only one truck was in front of him... and then it was gone, accompanied by a chirping from the rear tires on the pavement.

Carl smiled a crafty smile. That's a start? Hellsfire, he'd show them a start! After all, he had a 454 under the hood, and it wasn't a stocker, nosirree, not by a long shot.

The starter waved The Whale forward and Carl inched up carefully, put it in neutral and rapped the healthy motor a few times. Impressive, yes indeed, even the causal observer could sense that.

The starter pointed the flag at Carl, and indicated with his fingers that ten seconds were left. Carl depressed the clutch, and revved the engine: five, four, three, two, one! Carl let the clutch out and smashed the gas pedal. The engine screamed and the tach leaped for the red zone.

And The Whale stayed right where it was.

Vehicles tend to do that when they're in neutral.

Carl looked down sheepishly, and then slammed the shifter into gear, then let the clutch go. The Whale lurched backward and slammed into a Toyota 4-Runner directly in line behind Carl. The sound of breaking glass and bending metal was clear and loud.

Whoops!

Carl quickly yanked the shifter out of reverse, put it in low, the punched the throttle again. One entire bumper and half of the grill was ripped off the Toyota and both awnings on The Whale unfolded from the impact and rolled out to full extension. Carl thought he ought to get out and hook the awnings back up, but a glance in the rear view mirror showed an angry driver getting out and waving his fist.

Now seemed like a good time to leave. Carl wondered why the Toyota driver was so upset. Hey, he thought, racing is racing, and you can't whine over a little incident.

Carl looked over to the right side. Emma had her face covered up with both hands and her knees were clapping each other like one of those little toy wind-up monkeys you get at the carnivals. Carl sighed. Some people just weren't cut out for racing.

The first part was simple and easy... just paved roads and streets leading away from the town of Ensenada, but Carl knew that some real off-roading was coming up. Now would be a good time to calm Emma down before they got to the rough stuff.

"Emma? Honey-pot? Why don't you whip out that there rally map and see what pace we gotta maintain to win this here rally?"

Emma let out a pitiful moan.

"Hey, you feelin' worse dear?"

Emma shook her head from side to side. "No. It's just that you left the rally map and times back in the hotel room."

Carl sighed. "Well, never you mind, honey-pot. We're gonna do just fine. Way I figure it is this: most of the people in this here event ain't even gonna finish it. I got everything under control."

Emma looked out of the window at both awnings flapping in the breeze like some sort of giant prehistoric pterodactyl, and wondered if, indeed, ANYTHING, was under control!

***

What will happen when they hit the dirt? Stay tuned, because next month we'll join Carl and Emma in the thick of battle. Sends shivvers up my spine just thinking about it!