Strangers in the Night
Chapter 28

Copyright© 2015 by Old Man with a Pen

The seat people came next. They took hundreds of 35mm photographs of the installation and seat condition. It was an experience we won't soon forget. The newsies had asked questions ... this was like being grilled by the cops.

"How did the seat feel?" the interviewer asked following up with ... in order, "How secure were you, are there any improvements we could make, was there any chaffing, could the fit be better. was it too hard, too soft?"

"As the day races progressed did the feel of the seat stay the same, do you have any bruises?" "We need to photograph that."

"To what do you attribute your finishing?"

"Did you know over half of the historics crashed?"

For as long as the interview took, I should have gotten a free seat too.

Then it was my turn.

"Did your driver squirm?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Was she always adjusting the seat?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Did she seem to lean into the corners?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Was she continually tightening her harness?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Did she complain?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Why didn't you notice?"

"I was too busy reading my notes."

"Good enough."

The Audi manager was next. He shook Wendy's hand, congratulated her on finishing with nary a scrape or ding, asked if she needed any parts, "for that old thing" and walked off.

Never spoke a word to me.

When it was dark ... and everybody packed up ... we were still sorting and stacking and cleaning and discussing ... I said, "Want to do Germany?"

Wendy threw her arms around my neck, kissed me and said, "Oh God, yes."

"Here now ... I didn't propose. I just wanted to know if you wanted to race Germany."

"YEEEESSS!" She shouted.

I was immediately surrounded by well-wishers, offered cigars and suggestions for "June ... June is traditional," and generally felt I'd said something I didn't.

And there wasn't anything I could to stop it.

Instead of going home ... we went to Uusikaupunki and the Valmaat shops.

The Audi got a thorough going over ... by Dal's mechanics and Wendy and I took the Baltic out in the Gulf of Bothnia heading for nowhere in particular.

Three weeks before Germany, we took the boat ... our boat ... to Amsterdam, hired a long term berth in a marina and by canal boat excursion to Saarbrücken. It was an interesting trip ... War going on and all that.

From there we bussed to Baumholder ... we Knew that was on the rally route. We were directed, met up with the lorry and registered.

We were already signed up ... but this is Germany and All Must Be In Order. At headquarters we were inspected ... everything ... the lorry, the car, the seats, the suits, the harnesses, us ... everything. We found that we all of us were very much in order and we were allowed to reconnaissance ... after we first bought the Jemba Pace Notes ... again, one hundred twenty eight dollars.

On the route, I would read the pace notes and Wendy kept saying, "Beware! Hinkelsteins!" Since I had my nose buried in the book, I had no idea what Hinkelsteins were. I mentioned it.

"You are writing hinkelsteins when I tell you?"

"Yes," I agreed, "Might I be so bold as to ask ... what are hinkelsteins?"

She whipped a u-turn and approached my last note modified turn. At each side of the turn were low granite kerb-guards ... just tall enough to wipe out an under-carriage. All of them had assorted scars but some scars were new and you just knew some recent dark night a drunk visited a hinkelstein.

Wendy said, "Those stones are buried feet in the ground. I'll show you."

Another U-turn and we were back to my last note. We made a drifting left and there, at the side of the road was a yet to be installed Hinkelstein. The stone had the normal curved triangular top but the rest of the stein was at least eight feet tall and three feet across at the base.

"Hitting that would spoil our day."

 
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