Pal of the Jalop and the first woman ever to be arrested on Bullrun, Annabelle Frankl was taping and riding shotgun when a whole gang of the the ralliers (including their #144 Z06) were pulled over with the drivers taken off in the paddywagon. While Annabelle and Nick aren't paddies (rather Brits of Hungarian extraction), Miss Frankl went and picked up some burgers with all beef patties for the jailhouse rockers. Vomitation was not reported, although we imagine there was a bit of nausea involved. Traffic stop before the jump, aftermath after. – Davey G. Johnson

Related:
Bullrun Update: Baby Out of Jail [Internal]

On Tuesday, our resident Empire Stater sat down with everyone's favorite Teutonic village person to chat about the difference between a rally and a transcontinental record attempt. Today FastLane Daily's got part two of their conversations, where Alex talks about the problems with irrefutably proving that one has travelled from New York to Los Angeles faster than anyone else, as well as the impact of accidents like the one on the Gumball 3000 on road rallies in general.

Related:
It's Not a Rally, It's a Race: Spinelli Chats With Alex Roy Regarding Transcon Hijinks [Internal]

Richard Rawlings and Dennis Collins sit down with Bullrun's Rory Camangian for the first segment of what's apparently a four-part interview. They cover the issue of fatigue, their bet with Jay Riecke and prepping the car. Interestingly enough, although Bullrun has posted the methods used to prove that Rawlings and Collins indeed did sprint from Manhattan to Redondo in 31:59, they still haven't answered our question: what was the mileage covered? Along with airing the actual proof, it's the other piece in the puzzle required to tell if they incontrovertibly beat 32:07 by eight minutes or not. – Davey G. Johnson

Rawlings & Collins Break Coast-to-Coast Record — Bullrun 2007 [Bullrun2007.com]

Related:
Did Rawlings and Collins Break the Transcontinental Record [Internal]

Related:
Jalopnik Late Night: Astronauts Gone Wild!!! [Internal]

The ever-lovin' Herr Roy knows a thing or two about transcontinental control of incontinence in the service of swaths of ground covered in short amounts of time. He's harbored a friendly rivalry with both Richard Rawlings and the Collins Brothers since his first Gumball back in '03. And as a classic business-giver, Alex has laid down his call for third-party verification of the record (which, according to our conversation with Bullrun organizer Andy Duncan earlier today, there is ample evidence of). While refutations have been flying all morning, there are rumors of Rawlings appearing on Jay Leno tonight (which we heard from Bullrunners, but haven't been able to corroborate with our Tonight Show contact), and Andy insists that they "Definitely, definitely, definitely" went. If it all checks out, even given the distance between Darien, CT and Manhattan it sounds like they well-and-truly broke the Cannonball record from '79. Meanwhile, we're waiting for the exact mileage and a route map to see if there's any possible way that they outdrove the Diem/Turner US Express time from '83. – Davey G. Johnson

Related:
Did Rawlings and Collins Break the Transcontinental Record?; Texas Duo Claims to Have Broken 1979 Cannonball NYC to LA Run [Internal]

We've been on the phone all morning sorting out the veracity of Collins and Rawlings' stab at the Cannonball Baker Sea-to-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash Record. And frankly, it seems pretty legit to us. Collins and Rawlings are notably two of the fiercest competitors on the rallying scene. But there is another record, of thirty-two hours, seven minutes. While it seems as though Collins and Rawlings have legitimately smashed the Cannonball record of 32:51, the 32:07 record set by David Diem and Doug Turner during the 1983 running of the US Express (a successor race set up after Brock Yates shut down the Cannonball) hasn't exactly fallen. Why? Hit the jump for our reasoning, as well as the second part of Jay Riecke's challenge to the Transcontinental Texans.

The Dave Heinz/Dave Yarborough Jaguar XJ-S that set the 1979 race didn't leave from Manhattan, as previous Cannonballs (and the later US Express did); rather, (as commenter PatFromGundo noted) the Cannonballers departed from Darien, Connecticut. Factoring in getting out of Manhattan, we estimate a 25 minute penalty leaving Darien. Spinelli asserts it could be as tight as 15 minutes, but given the vagaries of traffic that particular morning, our NYC-area contingent is pretty comfortable with the 25 minute penalty. Which means that what Rawlings and Collins were actually dealing with was the 35:53 mark, set in 1975 by Rick Cline and Jack May in a Dino.

If the verification pans out, and according to Bullrun organizer Andy Duncan, it definitely will, Rawlings and Collins have definitely obliterated the Manhattan-to-Redondo run, and they likely outpaced Heinz and Yarborough. But there's a catch. The 1983 running of the US Express was run from Manhattan to Newport Beach, which is a longer distance than the shot to Redondo. The 10 Freeway is the main conduit from the east into Los Angeles. We're assuming that Rawlings and Collins cut across on the 10 and then took the 405 down to Redondo and then cut across to the Portofino, which is right off of PCH. In fact, pretty much any sensible route to Redondo includes the 405, even if it is a nightmarish road. From what we've been able to gather, it looks as if Rawlings and Collins ran just about 2,800 miles, vs. Heinz/Yarborough's 2855 miles.

Meanwhile, the route that Diem and Turner took in '83 spanned 2871.7. That gives Collins roughly 70-80 miles to cover in the space of eight minutes to equal the US Express record. The last time we checked, not even a V-12 Fezza with two seasoned drivers (as Rawlings and Collins are) could pull that off. The 550 Maranello has a top speed of 199mph. Which means — completely maxed out — they only could have covered about 26 miles in those eight minutes.

On the other hand, Rawlings and Collins now have the Ferrari loaded on a transporter headed for Miami in an attempt to cash in Riecke's chips. They now have to beat his RennTech 600CL. Jay and his co-pilot Byron were the second runner-up in last year's "Always First" awards, and the dudes are fast. We'll keep you posted.– Davey G. Johnson

Related:
Texas Duo Claims to Have Broken 1979 Cannonball NYC to LA Run [Internal]

NEW YORK TO LOS ANGELES, 31 HOURS 59 MINUTES [Bullrun2007.com]

Related:
All our 2007 Bullrun coverage [internal]

Related:
All of our 2007 Bullrun coverage [internal]

Related:
All of our wild Bullrun 2007 coverage [internal]

Related:
Bullrun 2007: The Bullrun Is Coming! The Bullrun Is Coming!; all of our Bullrun 2007 coverage [internal]

Related:
Bullrun 2007: We're In Vermont, Meow!; Bullrun 2007: Paris Hilton's A No-Show In Montreal!; Bullrun 2007: What Will Wert Drive?; Bullrun 2007: Annabelle, Your Big Brother's Comin' To Getcha! [internal]

We've picked up Annabelle in the Escalade — and she's taking the wheel as we head through Vermont to Conway, New Hampshire to meet up with her big (by 20 minutes) brother. We'll have pictures up from earlier at the start of the race shortly. So sit back for a while, meow, and be entertained. – Ray Wert

Related:
All of our Bullrun 2007 coverage [internal]

Paris to Still Run with the Bulls? [TMZ.com]

Related:
Our God is an Unfair God: Paris Hilton to Drive a Spyker C8 Spyder in Bullrun [internal]

Related:
Bullrun 2007: Annabelle, Your Big Brother's Comin' To Getcha! [internal]

Related:
Jalopnik Takes The Bullrun By The Horns [internal]

Anybody out there got any new ways to make fun of Paris? We're running low. Though if you watch the video taken by the lovable scamps at TMZ you will notice she employs a 300-pound man to make sure she doesn't spill her latte on her Bentley's soft top. Twit. Anyhow, the good folks at the Bullrun have apparently gifted the dim-witted DUI all-star with a $300,000-ish uber-car that she gets to drive from Montreal to the end of Florida while those of us that legitimately need the car get stuck behind computers making fun of Spinelli's beautiful hair. Dammit. – Jonny Lieberman

Paris Joins Amazing Race [tmz.com]

Related:
We're Laughing At You: Paris Hilton Might Face 90 Days In The Hoosegow [Internal]

In German law enforcement, there is no room for imprecision. Our pal Alex Roy is one highly precise man. Some would say precise to the point of obsession. Anyway, last night he kicked down an e-mail from German law enforcement (in Comic Sans, no less, which we feel is not precise enough for German police), which we've reprinted after the jump. We thought was rather amusing, and we can imagine Herr Roy giggling his ass off when he received it. As we have no interest in the Bundespolizei knocking at our door in the middle of the night, especially the feared Grenzschutzgruppe Eins Vier Vier, we have redacted the officer's name.

Sorry Guys someone told ya a real Bullshit Story.

I'm serving since 36 years and we never had a team or a force like you said.

The German Government never formed a "Unit 144", cause in all of our 16 different States we only have State Police Departments. The patch you sell, is from the State of Lower Saxony. The Federal Police is in charge with totally different things, at the Airports, Railroad Stations and Borders. They never where in charge with the "Autobahn" so who the fuck told ya this Bullshit about "Unit 144"? The German law says, the only Authority for Police Troops in the States, is in the hands of the State Governments and not with the Federal Government.

So with this story you really cheat on your customers cause the whole thing is fake.

– Davey G. Johnson
Related:
Team Polizei; More Alex Roy [Internal]

Former pro wrestler Bill Goldberg, who did time playing for the Sacramento Surge when we were in high school, has signed up to host the new Bullrun reality show on Spike. We know Goldberg's a car freak, but given our experience on the rally, he seems like he would sort of stick out like a sore thumb among the reedy Brits, crazy Southerners and Cali dorks that made up the majority of the people we met on the rally.

Then again, this is a made-for-TV version with the participants picked from audition videos, and if it's stacked with bro-hams and hamettes with a few rich dudes thrown in, Goldberg just might do all right. – Davey G. Johnson

Spike likes Goldberg as "Bullrun" host [Reuters]

Related:
You're Living in Your Own Public Bullrun: Get on the Televizzle [Internal]

See, and we thought only our West coast and East coast editors were able to get in on the Bullrun action. Turns out, the fun never stops out here on the MidWest Coast. For instance, did you know that Michigan has more miles of coastline than any state in the union with the exception of Alaska? Now you do. And the boys and girls on the Bullrun could have found that out themselves if they'd stopped for longer than...like five minutes on the cross-country race. Check out the Corvette Z06 chasing a Ford GT, a Lamborghini Gallardo and Murcielago and various other members of the Bullrun crew as they head West along I-94, past the blue bridges over Telegraph — and go a-heading for that Indiana-Michigan county line.

Related:
More Bullrun 2006 coverage [internal]

The Bullrun guys have possed-up with Spike TV to launch a new reality show based on a rally from Vancouver to Los Angeles over 7 days in October (the filming will require roughly a 10-day commitment). Instead of ponying up around fifteen large to participate, putting the event out of the range of all but the wealthy and connected, Spike wants to include their demo — essentially, Joes Average from 21 to 40, although they'd love to have female teams included in the group of 13. They're looking for vehicles from hot rods to exotics, but the main deal is personality. So if you've got a hot car and the desire to rock it like Richie Blackmore and be a highway star, click the link below sooner than later, as they want to have the slots filled by early September. Be prepared to send a video. [Photo of Darkcyd Navigator hoon Jason Garber and AMG Doll Ashley Van Dyke by Haller.]

Bullrun Casting

Related:
More on the Bullrun [Internal]

So while some of you have expressed displeasure with our extensive Bullrun coverage, some of y'all have enjoyed it and some have reacted with indifference, we have to say that our own abbreviated sojurn as a mini Sal Paradise to the distaff Dean Moriartys of Keri Rensing and Jennifer Nicole was an experience we'll never forget as long as we live. You can call the celebrities B-grade. You can laugh at some of the posturing, but at the end of it all, it was an incredible gathering of car guys and gals all blowing across the country together and often helping each other out. And while yes, certain things were overwrought, we had a wonderful time on our two days on the rally. Click through for some of our favorite participants' recollections.

While tickets were a worry for some, others, like the Subaru Forester-mounted Colin Herrick, managed to stealthily cruise past law enforcement, Herrick comments, "I didn't get any tickets! Don't know if that's really something to brag about with the Bullrun crowd, but it certainly makes things easier for me!" Especially considering Herrick's an emergency worker and excess baggage on his license could mess with his ability to do his job. On the other end of the scale, Noah Lehmann-Haupt in the Ford GT scored a plethora, commenting, "If you count the CHP combined "speeding + improper lane change" as a twofer, then 5," while his co-driver Rob Ferretti racked up exactly zero. Meanwhile, Jennifer Nicole made a game of it, shooting photos of every cop that pulled them over.

Fast cars make for hot action, no? According to a veteran rallying friend of ours, that's not always the case. He commented, "Guys like you and me would have more luck with women in a regular bar on a Wednesday night than on a rally. There's a lot less sex than everyone would think." Nevertheless, the Rensings managed to sneak in a couple of rendezvous, while Annabelle Frankl saved it up for after the rally, noting that she made the beast with two backs "Only once we got back to LA. However, it was someone on Bullrun..." Rory Camangian had to wait until he returned to his wife in New Jersey, noting that due to the omnipresence of roommates, he wasn't even able to rub one out. Jennifer Nicole, however, seemed satisfied with the titillation the cars themselves offered: "Keri would crack up because every time I saw a hot car or heard the Ford GT's extremely loud exhaust, I'd get major goosebumps down my legs and my nipples would get hard. The funniest thing about that was in Vegas: one of the guys on the run put his hand on my leg (I won't mention his name) and mentioned how nice my legs were and I turned to him and said 'If it wasn't for you and your fucking hot car they'd be a lot smoother!" and he just laughed. I think he got the picture...later.'" Jason Garber, who is now known to us as the Dutch Hercules for his amazing performance in the Team Darkcyd Support Navigator, was more succinct, merely answering, "Yes."

So while a number of us were busy not getting laid, we focused on the cars. We were in love with the Feretti/Lehmann-Haupt Ford GT, which sported an aftermarket Ford Racing exhaust system that gave the car the vibe of a knife-shaped Norse hammer. Or a gun-shaped knife. Or something. Whatever it was, it was godly. Obviously, Jen concurs, but what else were people into? Chuck Mallett was so impressed with Claus Ettenberger's Brabus CLS that he's vowed to enter a four-door of his own next year. While Lehmann-Haupt admits to going faster than Mallett and co-driver Danny Coyle, he counts Tove Christensen's Porsche as his favorite car, "Because seeing it meant we were finishing second." Herrick, on the other hand, was a little more indecisive, naming the Ward/Haller Stude as his personal fave and then coming up with a couple of alternates: "Of all the cars that finished I'd have to say the Lotus 340R was pretty damn cool. The Mosler was stunning, but at 147F inside the car, I'd pass out. They literally fried an egg on the dash board." Garber nominated Mallett's diff-fluid-boiling 'Vette, while Haller and Emil Rensing seconded Herrick's props to the all-open-all-the-time 340R.

As we've previously noted, nobody needs to drop 14 large on top of the price of a car and enough petroleum products to get the job done to haul ass across North America. So what does one get for one's money? According to a Bullrunner who wished to remain anonymous, "The food and drink situation on the rally was disappointing. There were way too many cash bars and not nearly enough good meals to justify the expense. Sure, the Bullrun was worth it as an experience, but it was certainly not something that I can call a 'value' as I try to convince more of my friends to participate next year." We personally found the breakfast at Shelby's facility to be especially bad, although the final meal at Social was good, and the breakfast spread at the W in San Diego featured really rather good eggs. The King Taco experience at California Speedway was generally universally reviled, leading Annabelle Frankl to comment, "If you're going to hire something mobile get a fucking In-N-Out Burger van!"

As for accomodations, Gansevoort in New York and the Sonnenalp in Vail, CO tended to be the two favorites, with Haller noting that the anticipation of the impending rally added a special air to the pre-race night in NYC, while Camagian had fond, Teutonic memories of the hotel in Vail: "It made me feel like I was in Germany, even more so after speaking with Peter Kolb for an hour."

Ah yes, Peter Kolb. The hyperserious, r-Deutschman who campaigned a Porsche GT3RS under the aegis of Robb Rill's Team Darkcyd. Peter is a serious believer in the power of German Precision, and given Tove Christensen's turbocharged "Always First First Place," we can't not lend the man's opinion some credence. So what, then, can we learn from Peter Kolb? Camangian: "I learned that anything that comes from Germany is better engineered than anything from other countries — including beer, pretzels, mountains (The Alps), weiner schitzel, and of course, PORSCHE!" Haller: "I like the Brabus. I think I buy a Brabus." The Dutch Hercules was cryptic, commenting only that, "There is no easy way to devirginate an asshole." Meanwhile, Keri was more forthright, praising Herr Kolb: "[I learned that] some Bullrunners have manners — example: they will stop and check if you're okay when you are pulled over on the side of the road for no reason, even though the other 15 cars in their pack did not." But we'll give Emil the final word on Mister Soul Patch: "Porsche may make the most precise of fine German automobiles, but if you drive like Peter, you won't win the Bullrun."

And that, friends, is it for this year's Bullrun coverage. As Kerouac wrote, "Nobody knows what's going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old." Here, then is a toast to bombing across the country while you still can. We're shutting up. Y'all can exhale now.

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

Sadly, Jalopnik's Bullrun '06 coverage is grinding to a slow halt. Well, sadly for us at least, as we loved being on the rally, made some great new friends in the process and saw some amazing sights. We'll have a roundup tomorrow with memories from some of our favorite participants in the event. Here then, is a gallery of pics from the final party at Social in WeHo, detailing the awards handed out.

For those of you impatient with our gallery system, Tove Christensen took the biggie in the "Always First" category and our boy Rory Camangian took home a killer Stefan Johansson watch for his trouble creating the Los Matadors personas. Annabelle Frankl was handed a bottle of bubbly — presumably to ensure further arrests — and Chuck Mallett's award was presumably for the amount of amazo-factor his 'Vette added to the rally. One question though — where was the award for Ferretti and Lehman-Haupt? More on that snub tomorrow.

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

The rally was originally supposed to end at The Grove, one of the tonier open-air shopping areas in Los Angeles. However, at the last minute, mall authorities reneged on the deal, as they'd been doing some research on the Internets and decided that the Bullrun wasn't a "family-friendly" event. During the drivers' meeting at Fontana, David Green informed us that our final destination would actually be the Beverly Hilton, our hotel for the evening.

After a few pace-car-led laps of the track (with Danny Coyle getting reamed by the authorities for passing everyone, including the pace car) and a snack at the King Taco truck, (where they don't know the meaning of the words "no meat"), we lined up for take off. Pulling away from the starting line under escort Keri suddenly called out, "My brakes! Something's wrong with my brakes!" When she got the car stopped and threw the Audi into park, the motor immediately began revving. The gas pedal had gotten stuck under the floor mat. Emil later remarked, "I told her she should've ditched that thing at the beginning."

She tossed the offending piece of carpet back toward us and took off. But we'd lost valuable positions, considering that most of this stage would be played out in Los Angeles traffic.

We didn't have our route entirely planned out as we took off, but we knew we were heading toward the 210, as we figured the 10 would be an absolute disaster. A number of cars had similar ideas, including the consistently well-placing Darkcyd support Navigator and the Skiny/Haller A6 Avant (now missing most of its stickers due to scanner reports that police were looking for the silver/gray wagon). While on the road, we mused on possible routes aloud to ourself while studying the road atlas, until Keri told us to be quiet until we had something figured out. We let Jen handle the directions at this point, as she's a 909 resident, and thus knows the roads out there better than us.

Finally, she suggested the 605 down to the 60 and then over to the 10, which we were pretty much going to have to be on at some point. In a moment of kismet, we mentioned that were just thinking that it was the optimum route as well. So it was set, the Nav Bitch was yammering and we were off. We'd never spent so much of a stage staring out the back window. At one point, we were pretty sure we'd seen a white Crown Vic a ways back. But every time he was out of our line of sight, Keri would put a little more distance between us until he ceased to be a worry.

We hopped off at La Cienega, took Cadillac up to Robertson, then cut over on Olympic to Beverly to Wilshire. The sensation was not unlike when you're driving home and you really have to go to the bathroom. And the closer you get, the worse the feeling of having to go is. By the final stoplight, all three of us were ready to pop. We'd heard via the radio that Los Matadors (who'd taken the 10 all the way) were already there. We pulled in 18th (filmed by one of the Car-Parazzi kids), right behind Richard Rawlings' 750il. William Wu had blazed to victory on the stage, just beating Carl Lewis due to his handy-dandy little device that turned any light with an emergency-vehicle sensor green.

Now it was time for donuts.

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

Skiny maneuvers the A6 Avant into proper takeoff position in San Diego.

Generally, when you wake up in the morning at a deluxo hotel in beautiful downtown San Diego and find out that your next destination is in the 909, your first inclination is to break out in hives, go into a seizure, mess yourself, and then put on a straight-brimmed baseball cap, take a hit off the glass dick, climb into a lifted Avalanche, get a slew of tribal tats and crank up any and every Fred Durst-related project you can get your hands on.

Dave Green (left) used to be pretty. Somehow we doubt Richard Rawlings ever was.

Instead, we had eggs that were quite good, drank a fair amount of coffee, and sat down at a table with a group of people, all of whom, except for Jennifer Nicole, had varying models of Motorola RAZRs. Ours was even admired for being "old school," despite the fact that we only bought it last fall. Emil's was gold, Keri's was pink, and Claus had one in some crazy dark finish we'd never seen before which is probably only available to owners of Brabus-tuned cars.

But much in the manner of ninjas during one or another of those Shogunates they had in Japan back in the time, we and our RAZRs would all soon be hurtling toward California Speedway in Fontana. Little did we know, but those of us in the black Audi A8L would also be headed toward our finest hour on the 2006 Bullrun.

The intersection was a madhouse. Danny Coyle was pulling mad donuts and block-long burnouts in the Mallett Corvette. Jen couldn't figure out which way to point the Audi until Emil pointed out to her that she'd be driving out over a curb. Skiny and Bret were about to enter a world of hurt and emerge unscathed, but with their time shattered. Emil was shooting back and forth like a shuttlecock. And Claus? Well, Claus kicked back with his feet up on the open door of his Brabus and made use of his RAZR. Peter Kolb was undoubtedly being more German than anyone else. In fact, we're starting to wonder if he'd actually shrunken the state of Bavaria down to pocket-size when nobody was looking and was carrying it in his pants, simply for added precision. A little extra Weissach never hurt anyone, after all. Except for James Dean.

And then, suddenly, we were off. And miraculously, we were really off. After blowing past Los Matadors on the 163, we didn't see anyone until we got onto the 15, blasting past Skiny and Haller in their A6 Avant. And then the crackle started on the radio. The heavy hitters were quickly moving up behind us. Tove Christensen. the Lehman-Haupt/Ferretti GT with Noah at the wheel. The Team Chris 911. And of course, Danny Coyle wheeling the Chuck Mallett 'Vette.

They blasted past us, with Danny the first to arrive, but not without Jen getting a crack in to Danny over the CB about how it felt to be behind a girl. More chatter, including some worrying news from the well-tuned scanners in the GT regarding Chippies searching for Bullrunners. And sure enough, not long after, the news came over the radio that Team Chris and the GT boys had been snagged. We attempted to get a shot as we drove by, but our imprecise Japanese camera did not allow us such a luxury. We knew we should've bought a Leica. Peter Kolb is no doubt laughing at us as we write this.

Then we flew past Chuck Mallett on the side of the road, refuelling the 'Vette, which only had a 66-mile range. Keri commented, "Watch, in five minutes, he'll come flying past us." Guess what? He did, doing well over a buck on the hard shoulder. Keri put out an APB to all Bullrunners within range, pointing out that in California, the hard shoulders are often filled with tire-and-air-dam-destroying detrius and that we all should be careful.

Meanwhile, just a few miles before we hit I-10, we got stuck in massive traffic. We're not quite sure how we got past Tove, but with the traffic locked in and the GT boys and Team Chris stuck behind us due to their run-in with law enforcement, we knew we had a real shot. Especially if Chuck and Danny ran out of gas again.

On the 10, we made good time, and on the offramp to the Speedway, Jen made use of her looks and got us up in the line. We drove carefully, as the fuzz tend to hang out around the entrance to the speedway, and then hauled ass to the staging area, where we pulled up third behind the Magnaflow RS4 and the Mallett Corvette. The RS4 guys had voluntarily disqualified themselves because they'd left 20 minutes earlier, due to the co-driver not feeling well, putting the nearly bone-stock A8L in behind the 900hp Corvette.

Which just goes to show that on the Bullrun, horsepower is far from everything.

Related:
More on the Bullrun [Internal]

If you want to blast across the country, you can do it for as little as the cost of gasoline, accomodations, coffee and any incidental repairs and speeding tickets you may incur. If you wanna do it on the Bullrun, you've gotta pony up 14k. As an embedded journalist, we were provided with two nights of accomodations, at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas and at the W Hotel in San Diego, which, in the interest of full disclosure, Los Jalopniks must admit to you. They also provided us with meals in Las Vegas, snacks in Lake Havasu, more meals in San Diego, a taco truck in Fontucky and a last supper in Los Angeles. With that out of the way, click through for an abbreviated Jalopnik-style Team Party Crash.

As somebody said to us, "The girls here can smell the size of your wallet a mile away." And well, it's largely true. The greatest females on the rally were generally the married ones, so we spent much of our time talking to them. After all, wouldn't you rather have a good conversation with somebody you know you is off-limits than spew futile, boring bullshit back and forth with somebody there's a 99% chance you won't score with anyway? Well, we suppose your mileage could vary.

Regardless, the girls they rounded up to attend the parties tended not to be interested in broke-dick bloggers. Instead, we tended to appeal to millionaire men. Big ups to the Bullrun wives, though. Your ovaries are equal to the cojones of your husbands, if not superior. Meanwhile, we're gonna go about figuring out how to be gay. Spence, CTE, a little help here?

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

We spent some time with Warren Mosler's son, Jacob, during the Bullrun, and we've gotta say, we like the guy a whole lot. What's more, Mosler sent an MT900S on the Rally, which, due to the unfortunate attitude of the driver, we didn't get a chance to ride in. But while one can front on a blogger, one cannot front on Carl Lewis, and even though the supercar naturally made it to the big end of the track in Great Bend, KS far faster than the nine-time gold medalist, we're pretty damn sure that Carl nailed him off the line.

[Via Los Matadors' Unofficial Bullrun Blog]

Related:
More on the Bullrun [Internal]

The Jundland Wastes are not to be travelled lightly!

With Miss Nicole back behind the wheel and properly chastised, we cruised through some amazing scenery down 95, as well as an abundance of trailer parks, until we got to Quartzsite, which besides being home to overstuffed 55 gallon drums of quartz, is also home to something called "The Main Event," which apparently involves thousands of people in motorhomes trading rocks. It's also famous as the only place Dan Gurney and Brock Yates were ever pulled over on the Cannonball, a traffic stop that prompted Gurney to stretch the Kirk F. White Ferrari Daytona's legs, eventually hitting 171 mph. Ours only tops out at 130, but for the next few stages, that top speed is primarily useless, and the stealth factor will prove invaluable.

"Leaving Lake Havasu" doesn't quite have the same impact as "Leaving Las Vegas," but we left anyway.

Cutting across on I-10 from Quartzsite to Blythe and having switched drivers, we loaded up on bonus cups at a drive-thru Starbucks, cut across town and caught CA 78 south, which turned out to be one of the most incredible drives of the trip. Rory Camagian of Los Matadors took the same route with a camera guy on board their Gallardo SE while Emil relaxed on the Bullrun bus and watched Beverly Hills Cop and drank beer. When we convened that evening, you could see the awe in his face. We went from farmland to straight-up Tatooine-style desert, and then once we took a quick run down the 111 to I-8 east of El Centro, we passed through mountainous, rocky terrain, the likes of which we'd never seen. It was like a micron-sized being's view of piles of sand.

Keri was really giving the long-wheelbase Audi's throttle the business on this leg, and the Valentine One didn't start chirping with any regularity until we got into the San Diego metro area. We were craning our neck and straining our eyes, staring out the back window through the tint, trying to make out telltale Crown Vic grille-and-headlight combos.

We pulled into the parking lot across the street from the W Hotel, not having placed well due to the morning's Garmin goof (we really can't thank you enough, Noah!), but we were proud of ourselves, having shaved an hour and a half off the time predicted by the Audi's Nav Bitch, and somehow, even though the only moments of real levity were laughing about random signs and business in Quartzsite and Blythe, we were friends. There's something about spending more than the better part of a day trying to beat the clock, other drivers and the po-po while doing it safely and taking only reasonable chances that really bonds you to people. We know it sounds somewhat cornball, but it's a trial by fire, and by the end of the day, we were working really well as a team, with the right-seater running the Nav Bitch, the driver doing her driving thing, and Los Jalopnik studying the road atlas, watching for cops, and disembarking in an attempt to figure out why a train hadn't kept a-rollin'.

The next morning, when we ran into Keri in the parking lot while shooting cars, we gave each other a big hug and she asked, "Do you want to ride along with us again today?" While we had other options, we immediately said yes.

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

On an absolutely sweltering, uncharacteristically humid Nevada morning, after a blast to the Las Vegas Motor Speedway with Noah Lehman-Haupt in the SuperSpeeders/Gotham Dream Cars Ford GT, we hopped in the back seat of the Rensing/Nicole Audi A8L, did a quick lap of the Shelby proving ground, and shot off for lunch in Lake Havasu. Click through for the tale.

As one of the first cars to leave the speedway, we knew it would only be a matter of time until characters like Lehman-Haupt/Ferretti, Tove Christensen, the Collins Brothers and Peter "I drive Porsche" Kolb would come hammering past us on I-15. We kept in radio contact with Noah, whose Garmin GPS had rendered the team nearly unstoppable on the eastern half of the rally. It had failed us plotting the route to the Speedway, however, and it was about to fail us again.

Noah had decided he and Rob were going to take 93 over to I-40 at Kingman, AZ. Which, of course, took us right over the Hoover Dam. Now, we've wanted to see the Hoover Dam since we were a wee Jalopnik, but today wasn't the right time to be sightseeing and moving slowly. But, slowly we were moving, so we made the best of it and took in the sights. We'd thought about counselling Keri and Jen against the route, but seeing as we'd met Keri roughly five minutes before we got in her car and Jen when we got in the car, we figured that it'd be prudent to let it lie.

We did have a piece of advice from Alex Roy to share, however; proceed slowly through Kingman, as it's a hornets' nest of speedtraps. The best part was when Lehman-Haupt got addled and radioed us later saying, "We're coming into Kingman. We've heard that Alex Roy says there are a lot of speed traps here." Thanks again, Noah.

We caught AZ 95 down to Lake Havasu City, and then something ridiculous happened. Lake Havasu's most famous attraction is London Bridge, which was disassembled in the late 1960s and put back together in Havasu, opening in '71. Yet off the city's main artery, there are no directions to the Bridge, which we were supposed to cross to find the checkpoint. Find it we did, with help from a local girl in a Jeep. Every Bullrunner without prior experience in the town had the same problem. In fact, many said that this checkpoint was the biggest goatfuck of the entire rally.

While we were refuelling, Jen stopped to talk to some folks who wanted to know know if we were making a movie or something, prompting a frustrated discussion between us and Keri, who finally hopped out of the car and yelled, "JEN!"

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

Pretty much anyone into late-model GM performance cars knows who Chuck Mallett is. Those people also know that Chuck builds random and radical development models to push technology as far as it can go. And then he pushes beyond that, with occasionally humorous results. This C6 was no different. Having had no problems with the stock 'Vette fuel tanks, Chuck utilized them in his massively-turboed, 400-inch Corvette. 900hp? No probalo, right? Click through for the probalos.

Chuck Mallett's attempt to flip the bird at CARB in San Diego. Think it worked?

Mallett claims the car will do around 220, and judging from the burnouts he left in San Diego (see the above pic for the aftermath), we've got no reason to disbelieve.

However, the 'Vette's got twin tanks. One of them failed, leaving Chuck and his co-driver Danny Coyle with only eight gallons of capacity, and since the sending unit for the gas gauge was in the dead tank, they had to listen for the sound of a stuttering fuel pump to know when it was time to pull over and dump more gas in via the lo-tech jerrycans they'd picked up along the way.

Chuck checks the fluids before the heroic blast from downtown San Diego to Fontucky

But here's the best part. On the way from San Diego to the California Speedway, with Danny at the wheel, the Mallett boys blasted past us while we were in the lead, followed by Noah Lehman-Haupt in the Ford GT and the Team Chris 911. There was crackle over the CB about serious police activity, but the relative stealth of the "Question Our Blackness and We'll Get All Stokely Carmichael on Your Ass" A8L kept us safe. Somehow, the Mallett boys ran the gauntlet, but Christian, Christopher, Noah and Rob got busted. Ironically, the Chrisses actually weren't speeding, and the officer who pulled them over in tandem with the GT (hit by another Chippie) didn't want to write them a ticket. But the guy who nailed the GT ordered him to write Team Chris a ticket.

A few miles later, we saw the yellow 'Vette on the side of the road, with Mallett pouring gas into the tank. Not five minutes later, the overhuffed Plastic Fantastic blasted past us on the hard shoulder doing well over a buck. We joked that we'd see them 500 feet from the entrance to the Speedway with the hood up (the only time the car's hood seemed to be down was when it was moving) and Chuck furiously praying for the laws of fluid dynamics to work at twice their normal speed.

Instead, we pulled in to see the ass end of a seriously fast C6. We were second. But y'know, after that performance, we didn't feel all that bad about it. Plus, Chuck's a good dude.

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

Nine Olympic gold medals should be reason enough for anyone to be considered a badass. But here's the thing: we don't consider Carl a badass because of that, although he was a childhood hero to us. We consider Carl a badass because in the world of sporting/celebrity culture, he's earned the right to be a total dick, yet the night the Bullrun ended, once the party in Haller's room got shut down by the Beverly Hilton's Gestapo, Nick Frankl chewed out the security guards and immediately got on the horn to Carl. Lewis invited us up to contiue the festivities. When we told him we didn't have a hotel room or a ride back to Pedro, he let us crash on his couch. What's more, the man even got us a blanket. That, friends, is class. We've met a number of our childhood and teenage heroes, and Carl's right up there with Joe Strummer in terms of fulfilling our expectations. Trust us, that's rare. Plus, the dude's funny as fuck.

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

Generally, one does not fuck with the Polizei. In this case, we are making an exception. Even German precision can be fouled, as was proven with the ailing front differential in the Los Matadors' Lamborghini Gallardo SE. It can be argued that without an infusion of German precision, the Lambo would never have made the 4,000-plus-mile trek. It can also be blamed on shoddy Italian workmanship. It might also be blamed on the lead feet of Emil and Rory Matador. However, the lack of precision in this photograph of Alex Roy and his film partner Corey could only be blamed on the slow response of Los Jalopnik's shoddy, imprecise Japanese camera's shutter and some yahoo with a couple of fingers to spare. Thanks, Alex, for showing up in LA for the soiree. Respect das Law!

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

We thought this girl was very pretty. We also thought that her co-driver (not pictured) was a very large man who looked easily capable of turning us into some form of mulch. We don't relish being mulch before our time. And as we all know, very large man + multiple long-ass days in a tiny Lotus Elise = very large unhappy man with adrenaline pumping. We made with the salutations, took a photograph, as it is purported to last longer, and went on our merry, non-mulched way. (By the way, that's Haller doing the Running Man in the upper right.)

More on the Bullrun [Internal]

To get to the W Hotel in San Diego, of course. From front to back, we have Keri Rensing (who drove the stage, shaving 1 1/2 hours off the time predicted by the GPS from Lake Havasu to SD), our intrepid reporter, who only nearly soiled his pants once, feeling somewhat like the inverse of Frog in Smokey and the Bandit, and Jennifer Nicole, whose girlish charms got us out of a momentary jam the following day on the way to California Speedway. Bret Haller captured the exhausted trio on their way to a date with bliss bath products. Needless to say, he and Skiny beat us to the checkpoint.

More on the Bullrun [Internal]