The Boxsters Have Landed II, Las Vegas
Unfortunately, I missed last years gathering, the original TBHL. My Boxster arrived a week too late. So I was determined to attend this year. And it was a blast! Photos below.
Friday
I knew the drive from SF to LV would be a looooooooooong one, so I tried to take off early. I got started a couple of hours later than planned, on a full tank of gas. Powered by coffee, some radio, and my brand new XTC and Tom Petty discs, I got to Kettleman City by the early afternoon. A quick lunch break and I was off again, to Tehachapi where I finally had to get gas running on empty after 328 miles. The prevailing traffic speeds on Highway 15 from Barstow to Vegas were "up there", so, despite the late start, somehow I made it to Keith Vyenielo's gracious car wash driveway hospitality suite before dark. Boxsterina got a quick bath and bug removal and I headed for The Strip and ready for Boxster sightings.
I found the "Imperial" "Palace" and drove into the arrival area to ask where to park. As I looked for help, who drove up right behind me but Dr. and Mrs. Dane Boren from nearby Utah. I followed the Borens around the back and up four levels of parking to the roped-off top floor of the parking garage.
The Imperial Palace really wants you to leave some of your money with them. The route from the parking garage elevators to the check-in desk forces you to maneuver a path winding through awful gift shops and slew of slot machines and craps tables. Then you run the gauntlet again back to the room elevators. So this is Vegas! It was late and I was wiped out, so when I peeked my head in at Freddie G's and was told it was packed -- no Boxster group section -- and it would be an hour wait, I bailed on the Friday night festivities.
When I got back to my room, the phone was ringing but I missed it. A bit later I wondered where I was supposed to meet my morning passenger, Matt the Car Nut. I looked Matt up on the TBHL roster and called his hotel. It was he who had called. He and his parents were there, Matt soaking up the room-service-and-movies-on-tv ambience of a much nicer hotel. What a life for a kid! He said he'd just called me. We decided to meet in the Boxster parking area in the morning.
Saturday
Up bright and early, people gathered in the parking area. I finally got to meet some of the faceless personalities from the Boxster Board. Matt and I drove over to Gaudin for the tech session. Matt was having the time of his life meeting all the Boxster Boarders, and was practically overwhelmed by all of the gorgeous cars as the parking lot filled up.
I can only begin to recount the other electronic friends, acquaintences, and familiar names I finally got to meet in the flesh -- Betty Choate, Chris Kramer, Mark Christenson, John Cochran, Phil Saunders, Rene Weenik, Stephen Toulouse, Greg Reddick, Larry Whatley, and Chris Huck. Familiar BoxsterFest folks like Brian and Marilyn Langley, Mark "from Tiburon" and Jane Angelich, Walt and Nancy Bilofsky, and Mark Lysinger. And could it really be, yes, the actual Chuck Hammersmith.
Gaudin put on a great tech session presented by R.J. and Todd who provided a wealth of knowledge and hands-on experience, answering approximately four million questions. Then Matt and Betty did the honors and drew the raffle tickets. Alas, while I was pleasantly surprised that Brian won the Litronic headlights, I went empty-handed.
Next stop was Lake Mead and the Boxster rainbow photo. Candida Weenik, half of the Netherlands delegation, was my passenger for this trip. A steady stream of Boxsters hit the freeway, turned onto the scenic drive eastward, and before long gathered in a big parking lot. We parked in a color-coordinated fashion first. Then Betty found the correct spot for the photo and a snail's pace parade of color groups decsended the ramp to the photo spot.
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just one of the day's rainbows
We finally got into position, scrambled up the embankment, and snapped a few quick photos as the rain suddenly started falling.
Rene Weenik himself was my passenger for the next trip, and everyone hopped into their cars to head out to Lake Mead proper and the cruise boat. Rene kept the digital hand-held camera rolling for much of the drive, capturing the amazing desert views he just doesn't get in the Netherlands. We huddled in the boat launch area, out of the rain, and waited for our departure time. I finally saw that Michael "Docta Boxsta" Saal, fellow BoxsterFest attendee and Thunderhill track junkie had made it to Vegas. The cruise was crowded and weather was mediocre, but the company was great. Where else are you going get to see the visceral reaction that the words "Skyler" or "Branko" have on Chris Kramer's face?!
after the cruise, the parking lot had a couple of rare clusters
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After the cruise my passenger was Phil Saunders on the way back to the Palace. Sadly, Phil's reason for attending sans Boxster was his prior encounter with a skidding motorcycle. Fortunately Phil was back to normal although (as of 6/18) his Boxster is still in the shop! I got to grill Phil on what it has been like to work on cool game software -- I played the original Journeyman Project game for the Mac, which Phil did the graphic design for -- whereas I was trying to sneak cool features and an elegant GUI into a boring IBM host terminal emulator when I worked at Apple.
Earlier, I had wondered about those "No Parking - Flash Flood Area" signs in the hotel driveway. Arriving back at the hotel, I saw why they were there. There was a river a foot deep in places, running beneath the hotel, right through the entry to the parking lot.
Saturday concluded with the big dinner event at Yolie's, a "Brazilian steak house" where they come to your table with a skewer full of meat and slice you off a hunk. I sat with R.J. and Todd and the rest of the Gaudin people. After people were more or less done eating, the awards began. Paul Cordell read Matt's original museum posting and gave him the honorary leather Porsche jacket. Look out, it's L. L. Cool M.!
The saddest part was when, after presenting the various award plaques, Dane presented Chuck with the Porsche Pete-style toy cowboy hat and gunbelt. The poor guy really didn't want to put them on, but the evil doctor made him do it for a photo op! The horror, the horror.
Sunday
I was supposed to give the reluctant cowboy a ride to the Valley of Fire, but the evil villain Walt kidnapped our superhero Chuck and made him drive the Boxster while Walt rode camera duty. Since my passenger seat was empty, I was given a new passenger, Ron Anderson. Ron's Boxster had sprung a coolant hose leak on the way down from Washington state to Vegas, and got a tow the last 200 miles (on Porsche's tab, of course). We drove out past the Las Vegas International Speedway and to the Valley of Fire state park. The scenery was amazing. The colors of the rocks were intense shades of red, brown, orange, and yellow. We wound through the twisty two-lane road between the high rock walls and finally to the parking lot at the end of the road. After some rock climbing, picture-taking, and more schmoozing, all to forestall the end of TBHL, we took a group photo and slowly, reluctantly, trailed off into our cars and out of the park.
looking down from the rocks above
The scenery was so great that I wanted to get a couple of good vanity photos of my Boxster. And lucky me, it turned out that Ron had with him a high-end large-frame camera and wanted to try some shots with it. So we hung around for a few minutes at a suitable turnout and got some good photos. While we were there, Stephen Toulouse and his wife drove by and I got my last picture of the weekend. Ron later mailed me a frame of his film (two inches square!) which should turn into a beautiful print!
the Toulouses' zenith blue
[full size 176K]
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After getting back to the lovely Imperial Palace, I dropped Ron off and headed out for Interstate 15 and the long haul home. The traffic on 15 was miserable heading out of Vegas. Since I had hit some traffic in the city limits arriving Friday, I assumed it would ease up quickly. It didn't. It was a mix of stop-and-go, bumper-to-bumper traffic, and short spurts of 70-MPH sprints for a minute. It went, literally, ALL THE WAY TO BARSTOW. 150 MILES. It was horrible. Finally, I broke away onto the "old" highway 58 at Barstow, and got back up to speed for rest of the trip home.
It was a great weekend. Will I do it next year? Hmmm.... Add a driving event (driver's ed or autocross) and I just might do the 20 hour commute again.
