Was it really eight years ago? Boy, it seems like it was at LEAST…eight years ago. After years of telecons, and emails only, my editor at Drag Racing Online, Jeff Burk (from here on, to be referred to as ‘The Burkster’) and I were actually boots-on-the-ground for the first time at a race, as employees of the same consortium, together. Ironically, at that 2016 running of the Joliet Nationals it would also turn out to be the LAST time. And so, pull up a stump, do what you gotta do, because ‘Charming and delightful Old Uncle Chicago JON‘ (Lions-roar, and Chicagoans will get this reference. Rest of the world? Sucks to be you) is about to regale you with the strange but true story of, THE LAST SUPPER…

The Big Show race in Joliet has, for years been all over the charts. Big successful years, and spartan empty-seat years. In recent times, closed with ‘coming-soon’ signage out front. It lives on, and this year I’ll be back, in an official capacity once again. As I am now chief-cook-and-bottle-washer of The Nitro Joint, the June edition will be full of adventures from the 2024 edition of The Joliet Nationals. But for now, we’ll discuss the merry miss-adventures of 2016, and trying to strap on the old feed bag, late at night in a town you might want to BE in, late at night. (Haa-Haa-haa…he said ‘strap-on’). So, let the mayhem unfold! Fridays dinner was at a more than awesome steakhouse, named “Al’s”. Burkster pronounced to BE awesome, because it announced to the world it had Cocktails, in neon lighting on the sign. But our focus here is with the chaos that ensued trying to get a meal on Saturday night.

We had at our disposal one of those ‘GPS-dealies’, but found it to be, what’s the term I’m struggling to find, uhm, oh yea, it was JUNK. Trying to get to Al’s, it was doling out instructions (it ‘spoke’ in one of those robot-voices) that were to the effect of, “turn-right-now-take-a-U-turn”…..Gee, ‘Hal’ why didn’t you just say “turn left”? Clearly we ‘parked’ it, and decided to kick it ‘old school’ and ask for directions from a gas station. Bad idea and that is how we ended up spinning around in circles, running here and there. “Baa-boo” (not his real name…possibly) sent us into a residential neighborhood, that dead-ended into a storage locker. (maybe he thought we wanted a meat locker?) Time, contrary to what the Rolling Stones famously sang, was NOT on our side. It is late, and with an expense account at our disposal, our tastes are grander than ‘roller hot-dogs’ at the Kwikee-Mart. (also run by someone named ‘Baa-boo’) Finally, I spot a CORONA beer sign in a window, stomp on that loud pedal and pray that we aren’t just barreling down on a liquor store. Well, it wasn’t Al’s, but it was a nice little Mom & Pop diner, that was closing in twenty-five minutes. We offer to take our meals with us, but the gal says they have to close up anyway and we can enjoy our dinners. Burkster opts for the fettuccini, and with an impish gleam in his eye, asks if they have Key-Lime pie. {SIDEBAR: Burkster will ask this of any and all dining establishments, even if it’s a DENNYS, during breakfast.} I opted for a meatball sub. Comically, for all the decades Burkster spent on the road, he claimed to have never seen a meatball sub. I suspect he was just ‘yanking me’, but whatever.

Halfway through our meals, we noticed the two employees were scrolling their phones. Sensing they were being more than polite, we asked for some ‘to-go’ containers, thanked them again for letting us in so close to quitting time and head it on back into that good night. Our ‘grand accommodations’ for the night? Well we have to touch base on that one for a second. As I was always more of a campground type of guy, the idea of a room was novel. There is a lot to be said for the line for a morning shower not being fifteen dudes long. That doesn’t mean that the budget had it at its disposal for us to be at The Hilton. Burkster, for all his years in the business knew of every ‘Dew-Drop-Inn’ in the nation.  You know, the quaint little fifteen room deal on the edge of town. This is Joliet, and we end up at a place with a numeral in its name. Now, something like a Holiday Inn will have a sign out front with FREE WIFI, or perhaps HEATED POOL. Our humble accommodations proudly trumpeted THEIR glowing achievement, that being WE’VE BEEN ON COPS TEN TIMES THIS YEAR. No lie, almost every door in the place bore the same “blunt-force-trauma” marks. During our stay, I suspected the ‘nice folks’ down the way were dealing, and I don’t mean Gin-Rummy. As we feasted on leftovers, we told ‘horror stories’ of our journeys thru the years. I may only have about fifteen years of credentials under my belt, but I’ve traveled ‘quite a lot’ since my first race in 1971. And, truth be told, Burksters first Indy Nationals was my fourth (!!) so, (Bill Murray-voice) “I got DAT going for me…which is nice”. He owned it though, my favorite tales revolving around the comic hijinks of the legendary members of the ‘Thousand Foot Club’ in Indy for The Nationals. Right about the time he’d get to the late arrivals being ‘stacked up like Cordwood’ by the door, I knew I’d missed some first class mayhem, with a lot of the icons in this crazy sport of ours.

The next morning at, boy, what was it called again? Uncle Joes Waffle Hut? (which ALSO did not carry Key Lime Pie) whatever, we’re mapping out the day and Burkster had one last round of stories about expense account mayhem, that being how the guys from the ‘print-days’ would really hand it to accounting, with the ridiculous stuff they’d order. (“yes, I’ll have the steak, with a side-order of…STEAK”) It makes me wonder what poor old Jesus might have had to deal with at the REAL ‘Last Supper’. Think about it for a second. You’ve even lived this any time you and a bunch of co-workers went out to lunch. So there’s poor old Jesus, telling the assembled, “Look, no WAY are we splitting the check thirteen ways! Me, I had the soup, MEANWHILE Paul, the ‘cute Apostle’ ordered the LOBSTER! Again!! Dig out the silver Amigos, everyone pony-up”. Road food, whether it’s breakfast, lunch or dinner always has a story. It may not have Key Lime pie on the desert menu, but if you have a sweet-tooth, that’s why Baboo always has plenty of Ding-Dongs and Yodells on hand. And that’s just the clientele! (radda-boom-crash!) Coming next month, more Joliet mayhem, 2024 style, with special guest ‘Tom The Longest Eight Miles’ along for the ride, til then I AM Chicago Jon, time for me to once again say….CCC-YAAAaaa!!!!