Still can't quite believe we did it. I submitted a 9,600 word masterpiece/giant stinkin' pile of rubbish to Automobile Magazine, about twice the length they had specified. Oops. The editors were kind enough to spend several days hacking away the useless bits with a chainsaw to get it down to something like 3,700 words, and with the photos they selected from the professional photographers, Mark and yours truly, it's an EIGHT PAGE spread. You'll be able to see it in the next (November) issue, and I'm pretty pleased.
After that comes out, I may post the funny bits that didn't meet their high standards (all of the rude jokes, the innuendo, idle gossip, and complete and utter lies) on this blog, so stay tuned.
And to catch everyone up: on the Monday after we arrive at Monterey, Glenn, Mark and Dennis finally sleep in and are ready to fly home. Except, to our utter shock and amazement, every single rental car, limo service and scooter in a 100 mile radius of Monterey has been reserved. How could this possibly happen? It's not like it's the BUSIEST WEEK OF THE YEAR ON THE PENINSULA or anything like that. Ooops.
So, finally we track down a black car service to take Mark to SFO to catch his flight, sucking cubic dollars out of his wallet. I was able to phone up old friend Leland and beg and plead for him to leave his adorable baby girl, hop in his Prius and drive down to Monterey to pick up Glenn and me. As we head up to catch our evening flight, I reflect on the ignominy of taking this last stage in a PRIUS, of all vehicles, with Leland extolling on its gas mileage virtues. Blech.
But we arrive home safe and sound, and I proceed to reintroduce myself to my 4 and 6 year old daughters, who I don't think quite realized I was gone for a week ("Oh, daddy, you're home. Did you bring us anything?"), kiss my understanding and patient wife, and collapse into a 2-day slumber. I love my bed.
