Drakes had been looking forward to this day for a year or more. He and Hymes had been trying to get a local rallycross series started since shortly after Prescott in late 2007 and, for a number of reasons, things always feel apart.
[Previously: ADITL.1 - The Van]
There was a the brilliant location halfway between Phoenix and Tucson that would have been perfect, had the owner not completely ignored their attempts to discuss a usage proposal for the site. The site manager was enthusiastic at the prospect of trading use of the facility’s unused areas in exchange for modest fees and assistance with site improvements that would only serve to increase the value of the business for everyone involved. Unfortunately for Drakes and Hymes, he flaked out, packing up and leaving town in the middle of the night, leaving Drakes and Hymes to deal with a mysterious owner who everyone said didn’t seem to care what went on at the site, but who never bothered to acknowledge anyone’s interest in using it. Then there was the other potential venue, equally well suited for rallycross and nearly as convenient, where the usage fee per event suddenly doubled, making it unfeasible. There was even a motocross track south and west of Phoenix, where management proclaimed their undying devotion to all things dirt-related on their website, but never responded to emails requesting a meeting to discuss the idea.
Drakes and Hymes finally concluded that the odds of their being able to talk twenty or so of their closest friends into spending fifty dollars apiece to cover the costs of an expensive venue and legitimate insurance for an event which would likely see their daily driven vehicles subjected to a great deal of dirt and filth were slim without some sort of media showing just how much fun it could be. After some hours wracking their brains trying to come up with another list of possible locations to scout (and likely be ignored by the owners), the two began thinking about all the ATVs and dirt bikes that can be seen racing alongside the highways outside the major metropolitan areas. They thought, if one can park a lifted diesel truck and trailer under a bridge out in the desert and then spend the weekend tearing about the scrub and cacti as they wished, surely there would be a way they could take cars out and have a little fun as well.
On this cool Arizona morning, Drakes found himself headed west out of Phoenix in search of that sort of fun. After an hour on the road, Drakes had crossed the Valley of the Sun and the narrowing of the US 60 highway from ten lanes down to just four meant that he had entered new territory for the first time since moving to the desert city several years earlier. He had been north, south and west, but never east. It was only February, so the weather was still mild enough that wildflowers of every color lined the coarse blacktop winding its way up into the Tonto National Forest. Drakes had no idea what type of flowers he was seeing streak past his windows in patches of purple, orange, yellow and pink, but they were beautiful contrast to the drab greys and browns of the mountains left behind when the entire region sank millions of years before. With each sweeping curve the view became more alluring and the radio struggled to keep the station in tune. Superior was just a few miles ahead and that was where Drakes would be making his turn towards his rendezvous point with Hymes.
Hymes, meanwhile, had left Tucson and was headed north in a sleek, black, Subaru Impreza wagon. As neither driver was confident in cell phone reception along this wayward route, they took turns calling each other along the way, providing updates of their approximate distance from the meeting point. Hymes relayed news of potential delays advised by frequent construction signage that would never materialize along his route to intercept Drakes in the small town of Winkelman. Hymes planning and being able to stick to a time table meant that he arrived in Winkelman nearly half an hour before Drakes and he finalized the meeting point as being a gas station at the intersection of two highways.
Some thirty miles up the road, Drakes was unable to make up time as he had thought he might. This stretch of road was consistently free of traffic, but it was a sinuous ribbon of rough asphalt endowed with numerous blind, off-camber corners. Combined with the older mud and snow tires fitted to the car for this outing, this stretch of road was a bit intimidating. Down a mountainside the undivided two-lane highway would go, into a brisk, fourth gear curve, before climbing up the next peak, requiring third gear to bring the turbocharger online for the crest, which seemed to invariably be the apex of one of those curves with the warning signs advising thirty miles per hour or less. Perhaps he would come back out and enjoy this stretch of road again sometime, but for now, pushing the limits was too risky and Drakes had been waiting all too long for this day.
Soon the adrenaline friendly highway would present more curiosities. The mountain ridges took a definite man-made shape, flat and straight across the tops, their uniform slopes dotted with piping and hoses. These were the systematically organized piles of overburden, which is simply the material removed by a strip mine to gain access to desired mineral deposits below. This mine was so large a spectacle that Drakes considered stopping along the roadside to take it in, but he knew Hymes was already sitting in a gas station parking lot ahead and resolved himself to check it out on the way back if there was time.
As Drakes approached the gas station, Hymes stepped out to the street, waving him down so he was sure to stop. At this point, the two exchanged details of their drives and began to discuss the day’s plans. Deciding to get a drink and some snacks from the attached convenience store (which also had a sizable clothing “department”), they turned to lock the vehicles only to discover Hymes’ keys were missing.
