Words and Photos: Andrew Ritchie
Hitchhiking on the side of the information superhighway is a whole hell of a lot easier than the side of the interstate. Filling the gaps in between a couple connecting flights to Atlanta from Vancouver really isn’t too difficult these days, if you’re heading to your 4th Overcrest Rally it may feel a bit odd. For me it’s always a longer process than ticking the pre-flight checklist and charging camera batteries. In this instance, sticking out my digital thumb asking for a lift between Atlanta and the start of the rally felt quite different, easy and maybe even a little unsettling. Similar to a lot of rally attendees I’d fill the weeks leading up to the event with spinning ratchets, rattle cans of paint, parts runs and everything else encompassing the completion of a project car.
The timeline to get my new project, a 1968 Mustang, completed had gone by at warp speed. My lack of concern about finishing on time was relieving and again, unsettling. Taking on the Overcrest route book from the right seat was new to me but also I’m always on that side, my car from the last 3 rallies is JDM. Without the grand adventure across the USA and having my own 4 wheels on the rally I’d be without the experience that so many of us enthusiasts crave. These thoughts definitely dominated my frontal lobe as I slid into a red 964 belonging to my friend Ben Powell. A fellow OC rally regular, he had offered a ride to the kickoff in Helen Georgia. Somehow he was able to fit 220lbs of Andrew and my luggage into the 911 already brimmed to the drip rails with his own supplies. Head to head in a game of Tetris with Ben might be a losing proposition, a slot car race might be a different story.
Off to the north Georgia hills in a 964 that sounded and felt like we could be running the infield at Daytona, a pit stop for gas and even a twisting detour made fast work of our route to the kickoff of Overcrest Rally and of course, Night Zero. This event would be taking place in Helen, not something you’d really expect to see nestled in the Appalachian mountains. My vision of early 20th century federal architecture on main street southern USA was drastically morphed entering the town. Replacing the classic brick and mortar vision in my mind were the wood framed stucco’d and detailed facade paintings of a Bavarian Village.
The scent of rubens, and the glint of beer steins on every patio was a welcome sight for two hungry travelers. How fitting to roll into this small alpine village in a beautiful 911 hot rodded as if it spent a lifetime running the hills around the town. I was almost baffled with the elation I felt wandering the town, sitting on the other side of the car brought me here. No pedals or steering wheel, just looking at highway signs and any scenery I could inhale. There was a fresh breeze of organic discovery as neither one of us had even so much as googled the town beforehand. This wonder and excitement would only be multiplied by what the team at Overcrest had in store for Night Zero.
There was a big printed sign above the checkered flag striped windows “Alpine Slot Cars”. This place was something I could have only dreamed about growing up, 4 massive slot car tracks and an array of kits to choose from. You show up, build, buy or rent a slot car and run it on the four massive scale tracks. The sound of cars clicking and skipping off the corners mixed with laughter and the smell of soldering irons melting together plastic slot car bodies. It felt as though we were all on a school trip or in a summer camp. I’m pretty confident the adolescent sense of wonder and joy was felt by everyone who showed up, it was almost like we opened up a Scalextric box on Christmas morning. These moments and gatherings are the ones that really show up in memory banks a few years down the line. Seeing adults conversing and forming friendships in the same form as when we were in grade school was so refreshing. It took us all away from the instant gratification, overly opinionated and grotesque saturation of “Car Culture” and into a more organic and vulnerable setting. Of course a lighthearted open lapping format was organized into quite a few endurance races, it’s almost a natural event progression with car people. The laughter and sound of now finely tuned (or not so much) slot cars whizzing around faded into the night and eventually I jumped into my Canadian Comrade RJ Price’s 1967 Barracuda to head off toward an Airbnb for some rest.
RJ and I had become great friends over the course of 3 Overcrest Rallies in Oregon, Utah and last year in Arkansas. We sort of began messaging each other like “hullooo fellow Canadian Overcrest dude,” maybe more articulate on RJ’s side. He and I have shared many phone calls about projects and funny stories as well as a journey to Air Water last Spring. When he showed up to Helen in his 67 Barracuda, clad with Mopar Dark Green and a whole lot of patina it was like watching your big brother get his first car. I couldn’t help but be excited for him, although RJ seemed stressed about the state of the car and its value I could tell his fondness for this project went deeper than dollars and rust. I saw a 318 powered Cuda with character and ready for RJ to make it his own, lifter ticks, sketchy wiring and some extra ventilation in the body be damned, this thing was rad! Not only did he get the car ready in Pennsylvania and drive it 700 miles to Night Zero, he was going to run the rally and then wheel this thing 2300 miles back home to Red Deer Alberta.
Before any of that we had to spend our registration day sorting out some issues with the crunchy old Mopar. I went after some exhaust leakage and rolled the rear arches with an axle shaft while RJ spent some time on wiring and getting a 4x4 light bar powered up. This ended up coming in clutch while we drove home from our dinner at Deer Lodge Dining room. After all the roundels, route books and maps were handed out everyone sat down to feast on steaks roughly the size of a small putting green. The 70’s road house was absolutely packed from parking lot to dinner pass and the air was just as full, just with anticipation for the coming 2 days on the rally.
What felt like 5 hours later, we were in view of the highest peak in Georgia at Brasstown Bald. Kris, Jake, Jeff and Stephanie being the visionaries and founders of Overcrest had given their uplifting thoughts to us all at the drivers meeting, it was time to rally. The light in the parking lot was sparse at first, but the sun soon crested the tree line and lit up the mountainside with its vibrant hues of autumn colour. The sound of flat sixes, V8’s, Diesels and 4 bangers could be heard echoing through the color rich forest. RJ began easing the Barracuda down the mountain road toward the first major waypoint in the route book. A few miles down the road seemingly drawn by a gymnasts floor routine, the Barracuda’s brake pedal went to the floor.
The 40 year old drum brakes had overheated in a massive way, pouring white smoke from behind the 14 inch Cragers and filling the cabin with the smell of a track day brake failure at 10 mph. RJ managed to wrestle the car to a skinny shoulder on the inside of a corner and out of the way for trailing cars. We hung out on the side of the road for quite some time to let the brakes cool and hopefully re-gain some bite. We agreed that it would be in the interest of surviving this Overcrest Rally to cut our route and take a more simplified route to the end point for the day.
It took us roughly 7 hours to make a 2 hour journey. We encountered a surging problem which ended up being a stuck choke plate on the carb. Then we decided to swap plugs to help with the car breaking up on throttle which we accomplished after two Napa stores and re-installing the plugs with the correct gap. RJ also ran a couple cans of Liqui Moly engine magic sauce to see if a lifter tick would calm down or change in any way, nope. We had the “Should we pull the intake and try changing lifters?” conversation and figured an O-Reilly’s parking lot would be a good place to attempt it. We pulled into the Waynesville location and ran into Kris with his 911 and Mitchell Denny with his 67 Cougar, who had a similar day of battling issues with the old pony car.
Mitch and I had been sharing the joke of maybe meeting up to rally or just drive sometime without one of our cars being broken. His Cougar was suffering from carb issues or so we all thought at the time. The snappy and high revving 289 in the Cougar will usually tickle the auditory receptors from the next county, I could hear it idle into the parking lot the first time I met Mitch. In his home state of Missouri ,after my GC8’s radiator puked its guts out on route 66, this dude showed up after sending one instagram message and a phone call to hang out and help. That should give you a good idea of his character. One thing I think we all admire about Mitchell is his ability to not let things go far into his patience meter. Always smiling and making jokes, not much can ruin his day even if it’s spent under the hood battling issues for the entire rally.
The day was definitely not what we expected, RJ told me he felt bad for not being able to do the full route. All I could do was smile, we got the car to the stop in one piece, tinkered on it all day, shared some good laughs and ended up hanging around the parts store parking lot with our pals. To me, there’s not too many days on the road that can compete, my rally in the right seat was absolutely a blast so far. In fact I’d feel guilty about going anywhere but the passenger seat of the Barracuda for day 2. It was like I’d be abandoning my post, but over a couple pizzas and a request from a friend to ride with them I decided to swap seats. RJ gave me a grin and said something to the effect of “I really think you should experience that”...
“I’m in a fucking Stratos!” The thought was circling my brain like a Times Square news ticker. Insert more hair brained profanity as I rip through the Appalachian mountains in another good friend's Lister Bell Stratos. I met John King at the Overcrest Rally in Utah. John has an energetic love and passion for driving unlike anything I have witnessed before. Being able to jump in with him brought me back to us flying through the desert at 100mph in our own versions of our favorite rally cars. The morning fog flying past my window and giving away to beautiful vistas over the hills and warm hues in the foliage was supplemented in auditory excellence by the screaming supercharged Lotus (Toyota) V6. From my side the car felt like it rotated on a pin bolted to the center of the chassis. Light, powerful and oozing with character this had to be one of the greatest cars I had ever sat in. It took a hard drive like an anvil to be hammered on throughout the day. Making hazard calls to John and keeping us on route kept me busy, especially at our pace. With nothing but air cooled 911’s, E30 BMW’s and some Ferraris in the mix it actually felt like we were driving through a 70’s or 80’s special stage at times. Eventually we made it to the end point of the entire rally at Fairgrounds raceway and the Overcrest Cup.
The sound of Chevy V8’s overwhelmed my senses as we crawled out of the Stratos, a dirt track to my right and what looked like Late Model class stock cars in the pits made my heart flutter. We had arrived at the track outside of Boone, North Carolina. The Overcrest Cup was a race that had been backed by the OC crew and they had invited 5 of the best local drivers to come out and put on a show for our community of enthusiasts. A lot of the racing I was exposed to as a kid was circle track/dirt track racing, so it felt like home to me. As I watched the cars rip sideways and fling clay into the crowd, the past few days bubbled into a fond emotion. I had spent the entire time as a passenger, snapping away with my camera, exploring routes and helping to sort out issues with the Barracuda. I was able to cap it off with a ride in a For some reason that nagging question of, “Do I miss the drive?” bounced around my mind a few times, my answer was still an easy “nope”.
I’ve actually spent a lot of time on the passenger side of the car this year and the experience is something you need as a car person. For me it was an uncertainty about having fun or being fulfilled, that same feeling scares a lot of people from taking themselves out of the driver seat and yea, it scared me for a moment. Thumb up on the digital interstate, I jumped in and didn’t really think about being in control or driving one bit. It barely crossed my mind until well…now. That uncertainty was only a small or even momentary hang up, because waiting on the other side was still an adventure. Removing the steering wheel probably gave me a more personal look into why I look toward stepping off to the next adventure. These journeys, friendships and memories aren’t harbored by a steering wheel, so no matter what, you’ll be in the right seat.
