Early this morning I checked our crew out of the world-famous Hotel Monteleone,

marveling one last time at the splendor of its lobby and its history in the French Quarter, which dates back to 1886.

Running along over Louisiana’s vast swamps, we came upon Troy Trepanier driving the Billet Specialties Chicayne, our Mothers Shine Award winner from SEMA 2002. . .

and we passed him. . . 

And we passed Bret, from Air Ride Technologies, in his air-bagged SN95. . . 

Some of you may recognize Bret’s tricked-out Mustang GT from the Ford exhibit at SEMA.

And finally, we passed Troy’s father, Jack, driving the Billet Specialties ’60 Sedan Delivery.

Biased as I may be, I still think red looks better.

Our lunch stop was at a little place called No Problem Raceway Park, and getting there was no problem, except for 1,500 cars all wanting to use the same two-lane road at the same time.

So we were a little late. . . no problem.

For a small track, No Problem is nicely-equipped with a 1.8-mile road course and a quarter-mile drag strip. We watched an eclectic group of vehicles attack the road course, including a Pantera. . . 

An old Dodge pickup. . . 

And a new Ford SVT Lightning being chased by a C5 Corvette.

Bet you can’t guess who couldn’t catch who. Those Lightnings are built for speed!

Listening to the announcer speak in Cajun was a real treat. The inflection and accent of his voice made driving the 30-plus miles off the highway worth every mile and rock chip. The cajun meal they served was worth it, too, judging from the non-stop food line at the tent.

While road courses may be fun, like everything today it required rules and regulations. Please note that no “wreckless” driving is allowed.

Does this mean we are supposed to wreck?

Just in case, though, a highly-competent ambulance crew stood by, ready to render whatever aid was required.

After this new Mustang spun-out going into turn one, I think he needed our upholstery cleaner, not the attention of the ambulance crew.

I’m sure the tire salesmen will be glad to see him coming, since he boiled the tires to get turned back the right direction.

After letting everyone have their fun on the road course, the drag strip opened-up for the rest of the folks to have their fun.

One of the more interesting runs was this late model Trans Am, who managed to lose a T-top at about the 1,000 foot mark and, I’d guess, about 90 miles per hour.

I’m sure he was really surprised when the passenger side got rather windy all of a sudden.

As luck would have it, course officials found it laying in the mud just over the retaining wall,

and returned it intact to rousing cheers and applause. Now that’s luck!

With rain on the horizon, we scooted back toward the highway, passing one of the multitudes of chemical plants dotting the landscape.

I’m not sure what they make, but it’s definitely not air freshener scent.

When that rain on the horizon turned to rain on the windshield, we knew we were in trouble.

Thanks to my expert meteorological training (and checking The Weather Channel), I knew this precipitation would be with us for a while. Gary drove on while I studied the inside of my eye lids.

When I awoke (oops, I mean, completed my studying), there was no more rain, but lots of traffic in front of us. . . 

and behind us. . . 

I’m guessing the Louisiana Department of Transportation decided they needed to replace all that old shoulder blacktop with new shoulder blacktop since it’s oil based, and everyone knows you should change your oil every 3 months or 3,000 cars. (You’d never guess why I gave up being a comedian.)

We finally arrived in Lake Charles and found our rig set up on the banks of the lake, near the civic center. Life was good until those pesky old clouds started forming right over our heads, creating a great view, but it was rather ominous to look at.

I made a quick trip around the show, finding jewels like this ’67 Rambler American. . . 

It's for sale, too, and only $2,000 with LOTS of extra parts.

And I found this great set of flames. . . 

They’re magnetic, by the way.

Hiding in the back lot was my second favorite car of all time, a winged wonder, a Plymouth Superbird. . . 

This one’s a 440/6-pack/automatic version.

As the rain fell, lightning lit the sky, striking a tree just 20 yards away from our rig with a bright flash and resounding crack. Gary mentioned something about needing the upholstery cleaner, so we watched the civic center empty out,

even before we were able to load the Nova up into the trailer for the night.