2005PanteraDrivesMay7

2005 Pantera
Drives - May 7

Copyright By Chuck Melton

It was obvious it was going to be a great day for a drive in the Pantera. After some chores, I got some gas and heading to one of my favorite roads (9) up to skyline (35).
For just around noon, traffic was light, in 7 miles of twisty road, there was only a trio of cars, each pulling over immediately to let me pass. Maybe it was my driving style, or the white roundel on my hood, or just that they could appreciate a fun drive, but each slower car let me by, so I waved a �thanks� to each one. Up on Skyline, a road famous in song & story, the clouds were breaking up. I came across the occasional motorcycle group enjoying the day too. Heading north, the Pacific Ocean can be seen off to the left, and the Bay Area can be seen on the right. From 45 miles away, past 3 bridges that span the San Francisco bay the skyscrapers of San Francisco can be seen. Truly glorious! I drove for a while in one direction then I turned around and heading back north past where I started. The road begged for more speed, and I felt mesmerized as my car willed my foot down to comply. I had to snap out of it, frequently, to remind myself to get back closer to the speed limit. Was the limit still 55 mph here? In days of old, there really was little police presence here. They would only come out to pull a motorcycle rider out of a tree-top, having landed there after going air-born after missing a surprisingly tight turn. Such is the life (and death) of members of the Skyline 150 Club. (I�ve been a member since the late 70�s.) Now the police harvest this road as one of the best revenue sources around.
Over the years I�ve developed a second sense of where the men in blue like to lay in wait, and today I again get that fuzzy-stomach feeling. Dropping back down under triple digits, I ease along enjoying my Sunday morning drive. A pack of bikers come toward me, they are also at �Sunday Drive� speed (65-70 mph), but off in distance and closing fast I see the suspicious shape of an all white Crown Vic heading south. As I go past, the Sheriff seems about ready to ruin someone�s day. Up ahead of me, around the next couple of turns, is one of the turn-outs that make for a good photo, so I decide I should stop for a �Photo Moment�. I pull over, and turn around to take this picture, the blue Pacific is behind the green coastal hills making the backgroud spectacular.

Before I can take another image I hear the �buzz-buzz� of a pack of rice-rockets running as a group. The leader slows down to check out my car, which slows the pack too. About 7-8 cars back, a driver decides it is his turn to lead, and he pulls out over the double-yellow, and roars past the slower cars ahead, going around the turn and out of view. The pack follows him back up to speed, but before the last guy is 100 yards past me, the Sheriff arrives. He was apparently interested enough in me to turn around, but now with a pack of easy prey, he turns on the lights and siren, and attempts a fast u-turn. He chose a narrow part of the blind curve, so it takes him 3-4 tries to get turned, and he roars off, engine floored, wheels spinning. Apparently so many fish, so little time to net us all! I head back north, thinking he will be occupied for at least 5 minutes, per ticket. But I again think better of maintaining my �membership� (in the 150 club), and instead pick this spot to take another photo. I hear a pack of bikes, at speed, coming, so I step out of the road just as they crest the hill to zoom past. I smile at them, then I get another odd feeling, and instead of composing this photo from the road, I pause.

I pass Alice�s restaurant (Song: Where you can get anything you want at �) and continue north, more twisties and open straights await me. I actually catch a group of bikes, who want me to slowly pass, sharing their lane. Smiles all around. Then I am off again. All too soon I reach 92, the end of the line for the open road, and I merge into a single-file snake of traffic leading to our local 6+ lane freeway, actually called �The World�s Most Beautiful Freeway�. Traffic is moderate, running around 75-85, so I stay put� until my last couple of miles anyway � grin. I pull into my garage, happy and satisfied.

Just then yet another (can�t be the same cop, right ???) patrol car
F-L-I-E-S over the crest, lights flashing. He slows for two long seconds to glare at me parked (legally) and off he roars, soon to record yet another �bad day� for the next unlucky driver.