328 dollar towing bill at 3:30 a.m.

Have you ever lost something important and tried to find out hours later? It's nearly an impossible task isn't it? During our recent race at the I-96 Speedway, I made a big mistake; I lost my rental car keys. I can partially blame this on a scooter and a long night of racing but the whole mess started right after I had finished my race report for the night. I had begun to pack up my things so that I could head over to Grand Rapids for a few winks before having to get up and fly home. I searched throughout my bag for Toyota Yaris keys but the search was futile. Earlier in the day, I had ridden a scooter over to the car, which was sitting in the general parking area, amidst mud and puddles of water. I remembered locking the red micro machine and that was the last time I saw the keys.

Despite frantic searches and visits to the track office, my ticket to a getaway was gone. I pulled out my BlackBerry and called Hertz. I explained my situation and they informed me of the charges. I reluctantly agreed and they sent a tow rig on its way to the track. During this time, WoO Competition Director, Don Grabey, and I continued to comb the area with flashlights, making a last ditch effort to find them.

Eventually a driver named Bob (nope that's not a typo nor is it made up) arrived with Ford F-450 truck topped out with a Jerr-dan tow arm attached. You'll have to forgive my attention to tow truck detail but I used to be a driver of one myself and enjoyed it quite a bit. Bob used a lock out kit to rescue my luggage and the proceeded to hook up the car from the front. A few minutes later, Bob, myself, my luggage and four sugar free Red Bulls were bouncing down old county black tops on our way to Grand Rapids. Along the way, Bob told me about his job, family and the like. We swapped towing stories like his of fishing a big rig out of a river and mine of tugging a car out of a burning house.

Before we knew it, we had arrived at the airport and made it to the rental car garage. A problem arose when we realized we couldn't place the car near the other vehicles the company owned. Upon this revelation, I called Hertz quickly and asked where they would like to have the vehicle dropped. With the instructions of, "just where we can see it," I asked Bob to drop it on the sidewalk, in plain view of the counter. With my signature scribbled on his ticket and a fresh cup coffee, Bob crawled into his Ford and took off for home. I made my way through the garage and into the terminal, only to find out that I wouldn't be able to check in until 4:30 am. After an hour of working with minimal battery power and room in the lobby, I checked in with United and made my way to the business center at Gerald R. Ford International Airport. I set to work for the next three hours, updating charts, voicing a podcast and more. Along the way, I scarfed down a Quiznos sub (yes they still toast them at 5 am believe it or not) as I had not had any dinner the night before.

Around 7:30, Hertz called and asked how my rental car experience had gone. Known for my smart alec tendencies, I calmly replied, "well I enjoyed the car, what little I got to use it until the keys lost themselves in a mud pit." The operator had no idea what had happened but then understood why I had not returned the keys with the rental agreement earlier that morning. After a quick explanation and confirmation of the quote, I hung up and finally collapsed into a chair just as the sun began to illuminate the landscape fully. It'd been 25 hours since I woke up and I was exhausted from the ordeal. Unfortunately, I was squeezed into the middle seat on the flight to Cleveland so any hopes of sleep were dashed. After a brief lay over, I boarded the small hopper plane for the jaunt to Charlotte. I landed, grabbed my luggage and took off for the parking lots. Fortunately, I had not lost my personal keys. I took off for our home office and was greeted by this sight when I arrived.


My co-workers had heard of my misfortunes through my boss and editor-in-chief, Chris Dolack. They had also placed a sign on the back of my office chair that read, "The Keymaster." With all of the jokes and red faced looks I had endured, I couldn't help but laugh at my situation. Here I was, covered in mud and dirt from the previous nights races, deep black lines under my eyes from one hour of sleep in the prior 30 hours and a 328 dollar bill in hand from Hertz. Still chuckling, I remembered what a wise man once told me, "The lessons of adolescence are often humiliating and expensive, but the wisdom acquired by an old man gets cheaper every year."

With the ordeal behind me, I'm ready to head for my home state this weekend as the Outlaws invade Kansas for two nights at the famed Belleville Highbanks and Lakeside Speedway in Kansas City, Ks.