Dispatch: Home for the Holidays

During our whirlwind tour of Spain I took pains to avoid the news, preferring instead to live in the moment and focus on Spain’s rich heritage. Although Violet occasionally read the news online or watched BBC, the see no evil, hear no evil approach enabled us to take advantage of adventure, planned excursions, tasty food and complex wine.

For instance, we were unaware that our president had broken a core campaign promise by capitulating on tax relief for the wealthy or that our new Speaker of the House and his Senate counterpart were prone to tearful crying jags in contemplation of their own circumstances, not those of the public that they served. My free Holiday advice to Barak, John and Mitch is simple: Man up gentlemen, it’s a long and tough road ahead and America needs real leadership, not schoolyard shenanigans! Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

Of course we knew about and toasted the recovery of kidnap victim Jean Marie Berlinghoff over plates of sumptuous paella, but with our minds still dwelling on the Iberian Peninsula and Christmas and New Years looming, we were ill prepared for immediate immersion into missing child cases.

The first one reached us the day after we returned, on December 15. A thirteen year old girl with medical issues did not return home from middle school the day before. It had been two days, her family was frantic and the local Sheriff was unresponsive, saying that it seemed a runaway. This has always proved a good excuse for law enforcement indifference as the sheer numbers of runaway children invites indifference. During a couple of consultations with the girl’s grandmother we decided to do the following things: blanket the already created missing child flyer throughout the community, including areas that a local runaway might frequent; focus upon the neighborhood where her best girlfriend and co-conspirator was thought to live, stakeout the neighborhood to see if anybody was removing the flyers and then follow that person home; and finally, continue to press the case through Facebook and other social media sites.

 The next day was problematic. She was still missing, the Sheriff couldn’t be bothered and the family was concerned about a worsening medical condition and possible gang involvement. This time it was decided that media needed to be notified in hopes of embarrassing the Sheriff into action. By December 17, she had been located and returned home.

Also on Thursday the plight of a two year old boy was brought to my attention via Facebook. His non-custodial father had not returned him to his mother. The father was in jail and most of the activity surrounding efforts to recover the child were being conducted via social networking. I told the family that they should re-format the photo essay into a missing flyer, contact local law enforcement to establish that a report had been made, and contact NCMEC to get a flyer posted on their website. The child was recovered by early Friday morning.

KlaasKids did not play a big part in any of these cases. However, we did consult the families, make pertinent suggestions, help with strategies, offer moral support and make ourselves otherwise available. Being involved in three successful recoveries in a row is kind of like the kidnap equivalent of a hat trick. It isn’t even important how the children were recovered because all were recovered alive and returned home in time for the holidays. Maybe there is a Santa Claus after all.

Dispatch: Seven Miles High

This great land passed in a blur of competition as beautiful, finely tuned automobiles filled with amazing competitors turned heads, brought squeals of laughter from little children and drew crowds wherever we happened to pass or park. The caravan of Lamborghinis, Corvettes, Camaros, and other exotic cars domestic and foreign, futuristic and ancient became the sole focus of our lives as we gamed our way to the finish line in little Galena, IL.

The past eight days have been so intensely focused upon the moment that the real world seemingly ceased to exist. That president Obama’s Chief of Staff resigned meant nothing when compared to completing the next bonus round before the competition. My hometown Giants seem headed to the National League Championship playoffs, but that is insignificant when one is seeking “the future birthplace of Captain James P. Kirk”. I felt extreme exhilaration as my beautiful green Camaro regularly topped 100 mph and my partners and I became dependent upon each other to make our marks, out strategize the competition, and be as close as possible to the top of the leader board when we put our keys in our pockets and walked away from overworked automobiles at the end of each day.

In retrospect, it is amazing that there weren’t more mishaps. Some of the teams got tickets, but nobody was caught driving in excess of 95 mph. There was only one flat tire, one altercation that nearly came to blows, and no accidents. When the Back to the Future DeLoreon broke down with no spare parts available, the Green Hornet and Doc Harmony got a trailer and pulled them with their Excursion for two days until we got to Cedar Rapids where parts had been shipped. The competition remained at a high level as we put 2,800 miles on the odometer. Cheating and poor sportsmanship were at a minimum.

I was afraid that I would be sitting in a car for 8 to 10 hours every day digesting fatty food, without an opportunity to exercise. However, as my aching body will attest, I did more running and climbing these past days than I have engaged in many, many years. The food was cheap and unappetizing so I was able to control my diet without consciously trying. If I don’t see another hamburger, pulled pork sandwich, tub of potato salad, pot of beans or brick of scrambled eggs for 6 months I will be a happy man.

If one is going to be truly competitive in the Fireball Run one needs physical training, viable preliminary research, a friend with a cell phone at a computer or constant internet connectivity, a GPS tracking device, a good car, and some good fortune. Although Team Polly neither won nor placed near the top my good fortune came in the form of a beautiful Camaro that was loaned to me by General Motors and the two men who rode with me and were my partners at different times during the competition.

I have never before spent this much time away from Violet during the 26 years that we have been together. I can hardly wait to see her at the airport later this evening.

Dispatch: Galena, IL

Who am I, how did I get here and what am I doing? My sense of normalcy feels stripped away. It’s as if crossing American at between 80 – 120 mph has blurred more than my peripheral vision. I arrived at the Fireball Run without expectation, but leave with a honed sense of competition, companionship, and camaraderie. I’ve learned lessons in trust, teamwork and tolerance. In doing so I believe that I have reconnected with a primal instinct.

The only real competition today was the drag races. Well, if you call watching Ron and Diane’s red Diablo disappear down the track as if I were sitting still competition. Ah well, I still hit 91.4 mph which I think is awesome for a quarter mile. On my second run I got my revenge on Kenny Greene’s Smart Car.  

With family business completed John joined me for the last day of the Fireball Run in picturesque Galena, IL. It was good to see him again. Together we drove downtown where the city pulled out all of the stops. Hundreds, if not thousands, gathered for one last look at the fabulous lineup of exotic, erotic foreign and domestic automobiles. It didn’t hurt that we were competing in the same space for the local Oktoberfest celebration, or that the two eventually blended.

Our final party was yet another hors d'oeuvre buffet. That surprised me because I thought that JJ would pull out all of the stops and ensure that our final impression was satisfying and memorable. Finally, awards real and imagined were distributed. It was great fun and I believe that whether you came in first or last, in the final analysis we were all winners.

Dispatch: Topeka, KS

Another day of thrills and spills as the Fireball Run races across the USA. We spent an hour at a manufacturing plant and thirty seconds at the Eisenhower Presidential Museum. Nice statue!  At Heartland Park speedway in Topeka I rode in a special edition Lamborghini on the track and at dinner I talked about the changes that have occurred since Polly’s tragedy.

I broke in my new partner today. In January 2005, Rob McConnell’s two year old daughter Bianca Vaminik was kidnapped by her non-custodial mother Eva Vamanik and taken to Indonesia. He hasn’t spoken to Bianca since. In those few times that Eva contacts Rob she goads him about not sending presents to his daughter, but she refuses to provide an address. The FBI told Rob that if he can convince the mom to return to the United States they will serve her with an International Parental Kidnapping warrant. The high end penalty for international abduction is less than that for illegally copying a DVD. To that end Rob has resorted to using social networking to locate Bianca and her non-custodial mom somewhere amongst a population of 245,452,739 people.

This morning we staged at the Dodge City Speedway and raced school busses around the oval track. The bus I drove wasn’t nearly as fast as Valentino Balboni’s screaming orange Lambo. Valentino is a Lamborghini legend who has been with his company for more than 40-years. He personally test drives every Lambo that leaves the factory in the small Italian township of Sant’Agata Bolognese.  Valentino was calm, cool and collected as he screeched around corners and unloaded on the straight-aways at Topeka’s Heartland Park at speeds exceeding 175 mph. I may have put his consul in a white knuckle grip, but I have to admit that it was the most thrilling ten minutes of my life.

One of our challenges today was to take a picture at the Atomic Cannon. At 83-tons with an 84-foot barrel and a range of 20-miles, the Atomic Cannon was developed in the 1950’s to fire an Atomic artillery shell. Who comes up with this stuff, and did somebody really think that was a good idea?

Our evening reception was at Ed Bozarth Chevrolet in Topeka, Kansas. I talked about the changes that have occurred since Polly’s tragedy. I figure that I need to provide new, good information every evening as part, albeit a small part, of the reason the Fireballer’s signed up to learn about this issue of my life. After we checked into our hotel we hung around the Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka RV sipping bourbon and winding down from an intense day of competition.

Dispatch: Dodge City, KS

Death Race 2010 is upon us. Moments after leaving Lubbock this morning, John received the dreaded news that his mother-in-law had died at 2:00am. He knew that it was imminent and had spent hours the day before consoling Meredith as she helplessly watched her beloved mother weaken and then finally succumb to the ovarian cancer that she had battled courageously for the past eight months.

I put our assignments back into the envelope and drove John to the Amarillo International Airport, where his secretary Caroline had booked a flight so that John could return to his family. Instead of rejoining the game, I drove to our hotel in Kansas City, thinking about my own father’s fragile health. When I called to tell him that I loved him my mom explained that he had checked into the Intensive Care Unit at Monterey Community Hospital earlier that morning. My dad has been spending too much time in the ICU lately.

A State Trooper pulled in behind me right after crossing the border into Oklahoma. I checked my speed, made sure that I was not exceeding the limit and maintained a steady pace as the trooper followed closely. By the time he turned off 30-minutes later I was ready to pull over to the side of the road, raise my hands and throw myself at his mercy.

Tired of eating too many burgers and beans I went to a Mexican Restaurant run by Mexican’s after I arrived in Dodge City. Mistake! That was some of the nastiest shit that I have eaten in some time. Speaking of shit, when I mentioned that Dodge City smelled like shit I was told, “No, it smells like livestock.” I think that livestock is a sanitized definition of shit.

We ate dinner at Dodge City’s Boot Hill where they served quesadillas and fried rocky mountain oysters. I declined several offers.

I told the Fireballer’s why John had left the competition and many if not most of them expressed their condolence and prayers. Things will not be the same without him, but if any trip is truly predictable, it’s not really an adventure after all is it? I hope that John will be able to rejoin the rally when we arrive in Galena, IL on Saturday.

Dispatch: Lubbock, TX

The State Troopers who escorted us out of Gallup, NM stayed with us for a couple of hours. When they finally waved our caravan on we were traveling somewhere beyond 100 mph. I have no expectation that I will receive such a friendly gesture the next time a State Trooper catches me traveling somewhere on the far side of 100 mph. I drove the Camaro today and John and I won this phase of the Fireball Run. We were greeted by city officials and other well wishers at the Overton Hotel, our check in point. One of our missions was to purchase non perishable food items for a local food bank. I believe that more than 3,500 items were ultimately tallied up.

If I were to do another road rally, I would definitely put in some serious training. The competition gets frenzied and exhausting the closer we get to the finish line each day, with competitors foot racing to various check points and upon completion of bonus adventures. This friendly but fierce competition is where the real fun is. Certain vehicles seem to always be on the leader board and it is becoming apparent who the eventual winners are going to be. Hopefully, John and I will make the cut.

This part of America tends to be flat and the roads seem to extend beyond the horizon. The Lamborghinis take advantage of this opportunity to open up their throttles. They are awe inspiring as they leave our lesser vehicles in their dust. Makes you wonder why the first five cars to the finish line today were three Camaro’s, one Vette and a rented Dodge Charger.

It was not a good night. JJ and I got into it yet again and seem to be as compatible as oil and water. I doubt that KlaasKids will participate in the next Fireball Run. Hopefully, things will tone down as we move deeper into the competition. I know that he is trying very hard, but believe that his organization is understaffed, leaving too many details unattended.

Seriously, why are the American cars running circles against million dollar Lamborghinis? Has the quality of the American automobile evolved so quickly? I know that our stock Camaro is a beautiful machine that has an unsurpassed head turning capability.

Dispatch: Grand Canyon

The two days I spent in Henderson was the longest week of my life. The real entertainment didn’t begin until after last night’s Chamber of Commerce party. We experienced setbacks and stand downs. The Zen Master’s 1909 Model T sputtered to a standstill off the side of the highway, spark plug wires fused to the engine block, as copious amounts of smoke blended with the Vegas smog. This morning we emerged united in purpose, with our eyes to the road and a true sense of adventure in the air.

John stayed with the Model T, lighted only by a full moon while I drove the Zen Master back to the U-Haul truck and trailer that he wisely brought along for just such an eventuality. We pushed the old car onto the trailer and at 9p.m. embarked upon a treasure hunt for spark plug wires. Two stops later we delivered cable and a crimping tool back to the Loews Resort and watched the Zen Master jerry rig cables only to discover that he’d cracked his engine head. Undaunted, he went to his room to contemplate his next move.

Back in the lobby we had a philosophical discussion with the event coordinator and eventually agreed to disagree. It’s funny how heat short circuits emotional connections as it unifies new compadres in purpose.

John doesn’t snore…much! Whew, and I was worried that I wouldn’t get to sleep at all last night. When we finally did get up early this morning the sun was shining, a breeze was blowing, the smog had cleared, the Zen Master had magically found not only an engine head, but a mechanic to replace it. When we bid our new friend farewell at the starting line he said that he’d buy us a drink after he joins us in Williams later tonight. You know, only a Zen Master would believe that he could drive a 100 year old car 3,500 miles across the country and have the inner peace to navigate the challenges of age and make it really happen.

Dispatch: Las Vegas Motor Speedway

I am awed and humbled. The early arrival reception was held on a terrace at the Lowes Resort overlooking Lake Las Vegas. The sun set as drinks were poured, hors d’oeuvres were served and the full moon rose over the Black Mountains. Fireball Run participants and Henderson Chamber of Commerce representatives circulated during the official meet and greet. Inevitably, as I shook hands and introduced myself to my fellow travelers, they launched into monologues about the missing kids that they represent. Many had contacted the families and/or local law enforcement agencies to get case updates. Many had distributed press releases about the cases and some received recognition in local newspapers, television and radio stations. It is good to see that otherwise dormant cases are receiving attention.

We went to the Las Vegas Motor Speedway this morning for our Fireball Run orientation. Things started slowly as more participants straggled in, forms were filled out, decals were attached to the vehicles and copious amounts of water were consumed as the heat on the tarmac surged toward triple digits. The schedule became a memory as the time trials began and we threaded the cone track. At the end of the day our screaming Camaro LT had the third best time on the cone track. Not bad for a couple of rookies competing against Lamborghini’s, tricked out Mustang’s and a very peculiar but cool 1909 Model T. I doubt that we will win many races, but nobody will forget our intensely awesome lime green chariot.

In the Bay Area a hot day is anything over 80-degrees F., so standing on the Speedway tarmac, in the Vegas desert on a sunny September day is a lesson in real heat management. Copious amounts of water are consumed, shade is a luxury and a convenient toilet is a necessity.

Is the lesson of the Fireball Run going to be about the convenience of the Men’s Room? I sure hope not, because as much as I love my Camaro, there is no bathroom in the back seat.

Dispatch: Lake Las Vegas

The Fireball Run is finally coming together. I arrived at the Lowes Lake Las VegasResort and checked in without a hitch. The first person I ran into was my new friend Paul Nigh, who is driving the Fireball Run in his Back to the Future Delorean. Does the fact that he has a flex capacitor put the rest of us at a disadvantage? Well I hardly think so, because I am picking up my cousin and team mate John Klaas at the Hard Rock Hotel early tomorrow morning in a lime green 2010 Camaro LT that has been generously donated by General Motors. From there we drive to the Las Vegas Motor Speedway when the game will be on.

This evening there is a reception where we will all meet and greet one another as we prepare for the competition which will begin at the Speedway. All told, there are 35-teams, all representing a missing child from their hometown community. As we roll across America each team will be tasked with handing out missing child flyers to everybody they meet along the way, so this truly is the Race to Recover America’s Missing Children.

Team Polly is representing little Hasanni Campbell. Hasanni was last seen wearing a gray sweatshirt and gray pants at approximately 4:15p.m. on August 10, 2009. Hasanni, who has cerebral palsy, was reported by Louis Ross as missing from a car outside a shoe store in Oakland's Rockridge district. Oakland police have indicated the disappearance may be homicide. Both of Hassani's foster parents were arrested in connection with the case but the district attorney declined to file charges due to lack of evidence. I doubt that Hasanni will be found alive or that Louis Ross will be held accountable for “disappearing” the little boy, but he does deserve to come home and maybe the awareness that we raise will assist in that effort.

The one dark cloud hanging over Team Polly’s head is the very poor health of close and elderly relatives. John’s mother in law is suffering from an advanced form of cancer and my 90 year old father has taken too many trips to the emergency room these past months for the prognosis to be anything but bleak. Well, we will pray for their health, wish them comfort and hope that they overcome the long odds that seem to be stacked against them.

After all, wasn’t Las Vegas premised on beating the odds in the first place?