Rednecks on a Roadtrip


Rednecks on a Roadtrip

By Aaron LaBeau

The major inspiration for this story came in the form of a phone call that started with the words “Cannonball, Cannonball, Cannonball, Baby” followed up with an abrupt click.  Days later I received a You Tube video of the intro to the 1980's classic Cannonball Run as hint of the meaning behind the prior day's phone call.  As fate would determine my good buddy Frank needed to drive from Phoenix, AZ to Belvidere, IL and back in a quest to pick up some stuff for a relative.  The only way I was going to go along for the ride is to come up with a pointless goal of my own.

My goal manifested while browsing an InsideLine article where one brown Porsche 911 Turbo nick-named the “Brisket Express” made a trip to Texas from Los Angles and back in search of BBQ.  This trip would be as pointless as the Inside Line article; lamer, manlier, dumber and unfortunately not nearly as fast.

Hey I'm having some fun with photoshop to dress-up some bad pictures.  More on that later!  When you're driving 30 hours straight you don't drop the tri-pod for a good low light shot.

 “This is Jack Burton in the Porkchop Express and I'm talkin' (writing) to whoever's listening out there.”  Who doesn't love Big Trouble in Little China?  It's a guy movie with exploding Ninjas, ten foot tall Chinese Wizards and Kurt Russel nailing one awesome line after another while sporting arguably the best mullet of the 80's.  Jack Burton IS who Keith Stone wants to be.  If the IL guys had the “Brisket Express” then we're driving the “The Pork-Chop Express!”  Read into that whatever you will.

It may not look like much from this perspective but this was a grisly drive.

Have you ever agreed to something like this without knowing full well why you're doing it?  If not you're definitely smarter than I am.  If so, you, like Jack Burton and myself say “Ol' Jack (me, you) always says…what the hell.”

Lamer & not as fast
We were driving a 2006 Chevy 2500 Duramax with the 6-speed Allison transmission.  It's an awesome 402 (cu in) 650lb-ft ass kicking monster.  The lame part; was towing the 4000lb trailer (unloaded) both ways.  It seriously slowed us down unlike the IL guys who did un-official blasts to 140mph on a “closed course.”  Sure guys!  I'm sure the truck could have pulled the trailer at 100mph or more but I doubt I'd be writing about this story.

The Inside Line dudes actually stopped at Hotels for a nights' sleep.  We pushed through for 30 hours straight.  Frank refers to this as marinating in your own juices.  This is one of the last things you can still do to beat your chest and feel like a barbarian without getting arrested.

Ditto the above about not stopping.  It was seriously stupid!  We were knocking on death's door a couple of times as no amount of caffeine would keep us awake any longer.  On the way back we pulled over for an hour of comatose to make it the rest of the way.

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