Yeah, I had another bagel at Starbucks. This time I charged it.
This morning’s activity was called a “Funkhana”. Yesterday, I chatted with a guy who has done a couple of them. You can’t do it alone; a co-driver is required. One time, he said they blindfolded the driver, and the co-driver had to navigate them through a short course that included parallel parking and backing into a parking spot. Another time, they had to throw Frisbees into baskets.
We did this in the parking lot of the University of Utah football stadium, a few blocks from the hotel. The opening ceremonies for the 2002 Winter Olympics were held here, and they still have the cauldron for the Olympic flame. This cauldron is lit wherever the Winter Olympics are being held, wherever that is. They put it out when the Olympics are done. Today, the cauldron is outside the stadium. It’ll go back in when the 2034 Olympics are held here.
Chad and I teamed up; he was my co-driver, and I was his. First, we had to put dinosaur masks on and drive to three stations. At each, we used grabbers to pick up a small plushy dinosaur. Next, we drove another short course with two stops where we had to toss our dinosaurs through the window and land them in little corrals. We could throw as few or as many as we wanted at each stop.
It was pretty easy to pick up the plushies. I expect everybody got maximum points. For the corralling, Chad said I should pull up as close as possible to the right for one stop and as close as possible to the left for the other. He’d toss his dinos at the first stop, and I’d toss mine at the second. That makes all the tosses as short as possible. So that’s what we did. On my run, I landed 2 in the smaller, higher-scoring corrals. On Chad’s run, I didn’t do so well.
After that, we had a zucchini race. Like Pinewood Derby in Cub Scouts, but with zucchini and squash instead of wood. There were bonus points for the most creatively decorated racer, and each car had to have a dinosaur in the driver’s seat. I’m not very creative, so I didn’t put much effort into it. Instead, I got the bright idea to strap a GoPro onto it. Folks got a kick out of it. On my test run, the camera came off, but another pipe cleaner did the trick.
Our last activity for the whole group was a farewell lunch. Here we thanked all the volunteers who made the event possible. They also gave prizes to the winners of the funkhana. Much to my surprise, I was tied for first. The prize was a larger plush dinosaur. I gave it to Chad. At the end, they gave away some extra T-shirts that were made for the volunteers. They’re a kind of fluorescent green. I snagged one and get more use out of it than I would a blue dinosaur.
For dinner, four of us went to a brewpub to watch the Broncos game. We had tasty wood-fired pizzas and beer. Fun Utah fact: if the beer is more than 5% alcohol, it comes in cans, never on tap. Pretty quickly after finishing, our server wanted us to pay. He wasn’t asking us to leave, but there was a fire a couple of buildings away. They evacuated an apartment complex, and it was possible the restaurant might need to be evacuated as well. That wasn’t necessary. The fire was on the news the next morning.
Somewhere between the restaurant and my hotel room, I managed to lose my sunglasses. I never drive without sunglasses.
Because the deli I found yesterday isn’t open on the weekend, I’m back to the choice between the overpriced bagel at Starbucks and the one that’s a few cents cheaper down the street. Although I should probably take the walk and get a few steps in, I elected for the Starbucks bagel. Bagel (toasted) plus cream cheese plus tax works out to $4.60. I gave the cashier a $5 bill. She rummaged through her change drawer, closely inspected a coin or two, then gave me a nickel and smiled.
“You said it’s $4.60. I gave you a five, but you only gave me a nickel back!”
She fished around in her drawer some more, handed me three more nickels, and said, “We’re out of coins.” Really?
Yesterday, when I told Ryan the symptoms and that we’d done a recent engine swap came up with a few possibilities. One was that maybe we had a poor ground. That would explain why the misfire progressively got worse, and why replacing the plugs and coils didn’t fix it. If that is it, it’ll be an easy fix. Maybe I wouldn’t have to fly home after all.
In early afternoon, I was in the parking lot chatting with a couple who were wondering about all the cars when I spotted Ryan heading my way with Dave, his boss, and the other Lotus USA tech. These are the experts that the dealers go to when they have issues.
Dave is a funny guy. Every time somebody says they’ve modified their cars, Dave asks for their VIN. He takes one look at my car and says, “I see what the problem is. He has an aftermarket diffuser!”
It only took Ryan a few minutes to discover that one of the new ignition coils Michael and I installed a couple of weeks ago is messed up. It’s missing its boot, and it has some witness marks on it. Clearly not a new part. Three came in one kind of box, the fourth in a slightly different one. It must have been the one in the oddball box: a returned item that got shipped out as new. I’m surprised we didn’t spot it when we installed it. I don’t know how we both missed it; the missing boot is pretty obvious.
I called the nearest Advance Auto Parts. The gal I talked to said, “Sorry, but I only have one.” That’s great! I only need one! With a hotel full of Lotus peeps, it only took a few minutes to arrange a lift to the store. John kindly took me there, and after returning to the hotel, it was simple (even for me) to effect the repair.
She fired right up and idled nicely. I cleared the codes and drove a few miles. Music to my ears. I wouldn’t have to fly home, and I’d get to do the track day.
These Utah trips are emotional roller-coasters. Last year, the mysterious oil issue; this year, the misfire. They’re memorable trips, that’s for sure.
Dinner tonight was at the Natural History Museum of Utah. It’s just a couple of blocks up the hill from the hotel. I was a bit surprised that so many people drove. We filled the parking lot, but we could have filled it three times.
We had an hour to explore the exhibits before dinner. It’s not a large museum, maybe only a sixth the size of the Denver museum. It’s mostly dinosaurs. It’s packed with dinosaurs. You walk among them, under them, over them. They menace with open jaws, all pointy teeth and big claws.
I am such a child. There’s a little demonstration of a seismograph. On the floor is a painted box: “Jump!”. On the wall is a display. I jumped, and jumped harder a second time. I “pegged” the needle. A minute later, two people were trying it out, stomping one foot instead of jumping. “No, no, no. Here’s how you do it,” I said, and took a running leap. Pegged it again. I’m such a child.
This place is just a fraction of the size of the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, but I really liked the way they did the exhibits. The dioramas in the Denver museum are stodgy – very last century.
Our speaker after dinner was Robin Shute, Tony’s son. Robin is a 4-time Pikes Peak Hill Climb winner. He’s a bit of a unicorn – he didn’t just drive the car; he designed it. Like his father, he’s soft-spoken, and I missed a little of what he said. Quite the accomplished guy.
The hotel we’re staying in doesn’t offer a Continental breakfast, but they do have a Starbucks in the lobby. The only thing they offer a non-coffee drinker and someone trying not to eat sugary foods is a couple of bagels: plain or everything. In search of better options, I walked a couple of blocks to the Corner Bakery Cafe. Sadly, the options were the same, unless I wanted a sit-down breakfast. So, yeah, I ended up with an overpriced plain bagel.
Today, the plan is to head to Helper, UT, to have our little car show and lunch. It’s a two-hour drive using the fastest route. That fastest route involves interstate highways, and I’m not alone in my dislike for these roads. Since we’re trying to get something like 160 cars from here to there, there was a choice between several groups taking different routes. I decided to travel with the Lotus Colorado group.
Unfortunately, when I pulled out of the hotel parking lot, my misfire got much worse. I drove down to the main drag and just missed the green light. This was good, as there was no way I’d drive it for the 5+ hour round trip with it running like this. When the light turned green, I made a U-turn and went back to the hotel parking lot. By the time I parked it, the check engine light was flashing. I’ve never seen that before. Not a good sign.
With an undrivable car, I won’t be able to partake in most of the activities that I came here to do. I missed our takeover of the town of Helping. I won’t be able to join any of the organized drives tomorrow, the funkhana on Sunday, or the track day on Monday. And, frankly, I’ll be looking for a way to get the car to the local dealer and book a flight back home.
Long-time readers may think this sounds familiar. I had a check engine light the night before my track day at Laguna Seca and an electrical problem on my first Atlanta trip that caused me to cancel my two-day event at Barber Motorsports Park.
The difference this time is that Lotus Cars USA has their three top experts on my car at the event. One of them is Ryan, who has done a lot of work on my car, including fixing the short that wrecked my Atlanta trip. I am confident that Ryan and his colleagues will be able to diagnose the issue and, if I’m lucky, get it resolved, too.
So, I texted Ryan to see if he went to Helper or if he’s somewhere around the hotel. The answer was neither. He responded a couple of hours later, saying that he and his family had just crossed the border into Utah and would arrive at the hotel a few hours later, but wouldn’t be able to look at the car until sometime tomorrow.
Normally, I’d have a book with me. After I lugged a book around France and didn’t even read it on the plane, I didn’t bother bringing one on this trip. When would I have time to read? Every time I have a problem on one of my trips, I end up adding something to the toolbox. I won’t put it in the toolbox, but I’ll be sure to always be prepared to have time to kill. Ahem.
The hotel is practically on the University of Utah’s campus. Two medical school buildings are next door. Surely there’s a bookstore within walking distance. My Navigator friend suggested the bookstore on campus, showing me a photo of a shelf of books. It’s a 29-minute walk. Part of the walk is along a six-lane road with no sidewalk. But enough people go this way that there’s a trail. When I get to a sidewalk, there’s a crossing button I need to press to light up the sign so drivers won’t kill me in the crosswalk. I push the button three times, but it doesn’t work.
To get to the bookstore, I walk past the library. It’s the J. Willard Marriott Library. I was surprised it was named for somebody I recognized and had no idea he had connections to this area. I have no idea who the Norlin was that the CU library is named for.
Anyway, I arrive at the store. It’s two stories, with the ground floor completely filled with UU merch. Shirts, hats, jerseys, jackets, hoodies. A sign by the stairs says that book packages can be collected upstairs. Naturally, I go upstairs. I’m guessing students order online whatever few books they need dead-tree versions of and pick them up here. So much for buying a book.
For lunch, I had the challenge of locating a deli Google said was nearby. As in, practically across the street in one of the medical office buildings. Google messed with me on this one. In pedestrian mode, mind you, it directed me through the parking lot of the office building and into an entrance. I did spot a sign for the Deli, but it just had an arrow. Google did say that it was on the second floor, so I went up the stairs. This led me into a warren of offices. I was clearly not in a public space. After several turns, I managed to exit from the back, as the building is built on a hill, and the second floor is the ground floor in the back. I’m about to give up when I spot it. Navigator led me on the worst possible path to get a sandwich. What’s it got against me?
I was excited to see they served breakfast, too. A nice breakfast burrito would be a nice step up from a plain bagel. Unfortunately, they’re only open on weekdays. They cater to the office workers in the area, and there’s nothing else to bring traffic here. Oh well. Bagels it is.
I counted six cars in the parking lot when I got back from lunch. The place was deserted. Or, nearly so. I helped a guy get a go-kart from his minivan to the lobby outside the banquet room for display. Across the parking lot, over the lawn, through the double doors, and next to the staircase. It’s a Lotus go-kart. Built in Italy, sold across Europe, but only a handful made it to America.
For dinner, the eternal question: the beef or the chicken? Our speaker was Tony Shute, who led the development of the Elise, Exige, and variants. At our table, we couldn’t see the slideshow, and there was a lot of noise behind us, making him difficult to hear. On top of that, he was a soft-spoken guy. I moved to another part of the room to see the slides, but had just as much noise. So it goes.
To top off the evening, we had the awards presentation from the day in Helper. Lotus Colorado outperformed. We won exactly a third of the awards, but we’re more like a fifth of the cars.
Every year in September, Lotus Ltd., the national club for Lotus owners, holds the Lotus Owners Gathering, or LOG. Historically, Lotus Ltd. has been, shall we say, East Coast-centric. Since I’ve been in the club, I think only four LOGs have been west of the Mississippi. Meanwhile, the Golden Gate Lotus Club and other clubs hold a West Coast Lotus Meet (WCLM), generally every other year, also around this time. As long as I’ve had the Lotus, I’ve had the sense that the two organizations may have had issues other than geographic.
It may be that relations have thawed. The title of this post does not have a typo. This year’s get-together is the Lotus United Gathering, which is what you get when Lotus Ltd. and the Golden Gate Lotus Club work together. This does not mean we won’t have both a LOG and a WCLM in the same year. The United States is a big place, and it takes a special kind of maniac to want to drive these cars three or four thousand miles (or more) in a week.
For LUG 2026, the setting is the same as LOG 40: Salt Lake City. On tap for the trip are a drive to Helper, UT for our concours; a drive to a “ghost” town (which I saw last time, so I’ll replace with an alternate); a “funkhana” (a low-speed, light-hearted obstacle course); a track day; and, on the drive home, a hike to Hanging Lake near Glenwood Springs.
Thursday, September 24
My phone’s navigation app likes to mess with me. In Death Valley, it had me going down a dirt road in the dark. It wants me to take shortcuts to bypass towns, so I miss all the restaurants and gas stations. In Missouri, it flat-out lied to me. It said the nearest gas station was 19 miles away, but at the next stop sign, I spotted one a quarter of a mile down the crossroad. I hate interstates, so I often set it to avoid highways. It directed me to a ferry across the Ohio River that operated twice a day. Once, in Tennessee, when I was on the Interstate, in a Biblical rainstorm, it had me exit the Interstate and drive a seven-mile loop, only to get back on the Interstate at the same exit1. I don’t know what I did to piss it off.
Today I decided I’d put in the address of the hotel and hit Start, then ignore whatever it said for half the day. I know it’ll want me to take I-25 to I-80, and that’s the last route I want to take. My plan was I-70 to Silverthorne, then CO 9 to US 40. I wondered how long the app would keep telling me to turn around. It gave up around Colfax. In response, it sent me, and, seemingly, dozens of other cars, on a detour around congestion on the Interstate. It took me four cycles to get through one stoplight. I’d have rather stayed on I-70. Yeah, yeah, I should have ignored it like I said I would.
Colorado Highway 9 passes by Green Mountain Reservoir. There isn’t any water in it. I don’t mean it was low. The only water in it was a largish puddle at the dam. After the junction with US 40 in Kremmling, the road passes Wolford Mountain Reservoir. This is also dry. It’s not uncommon over the years to see reservoirs quite low; this was shocking.
By now, I had finally bent the navigation app to my will2. Almost. It tried to pull the “shortcut around the town” stunt in Vernal and cheat me out of lunch. This great time-saving manoeuvre was not a time-saver because two oversized loads blocked the intersection for three cycles of the light. When I could finally make a right turn on red to grab a sandwich at Jimmy John’s, I sent the navigator app into a paroxysm of rerouting beeps.
At Duchesne, the unexpected happened. Navigator sent me onto Utah routes to bypass Strawberry and Heber City; backroads to within a few miles of I-80. Utah Route 35 is a lovely road with sweeping turns, almost no traffic, and pleasant mountain scenery. At one point, I came across a herd of sheep on the road, directed by three dogs, but no human I could see. The dogs had their charges across the road in no time.
Back in civilization, in Kamas, I came within a hundred yards of joining a group of Lotus, but my low fuel light came on, and I stopped to refuel. I gassed up in Kremmling, 338 miles earlier. It was only another 38 miles to the hotel. I’d have made it with more than a gallon left in the tank – I got 41.3 miles to the gallon on that tank.
Good fuel economy despite the car not running quite right. In the wake of the engine swap, I was getting occasional check engine lights for misfire codes. Last week, Michael and I replaced the spark plugs and ignition coils. But now the misfires are no longer occasional. The idle is very rough, but it never stalled. And at low RPMs, the misfire was quite noticeable.
I pulled into the hotel parking lot a few minutes after 5, a bit over nine hours of travel time. I got checked in with the hotel and got checked in with LUG, just in time to have dinner and a couple of beers with other Lotus enthusiasts.
In its defense, it was the most intense part of the storm, and I pulled into a parking lot for a few minutes when it started to hail. The Interstate would have been crazy, so the detour was a good thing. ↩︎
Not really. By now, this was the only route option until close to SLC. ↩︎
Lotus Ltd. is the national Lotus owners club. Each year, a local chapter hosts the Lotus Owners Gathering, or LOG. LOGs often include autocross or track days. There is a Concours d’Elegance, technical sessions, organized scenic drives in the area, and dinners with notable and interesting guest speakers. LOG 43 was held in Austin, TX.
We made a left turn off the main road and went up a narrow lane. This was the end of one map segment and the start of another. My phone, mounted at arm’s length, displayed a dialog box: end trip or continue? I can’t take my eyes off the road, and working from memory as much as sight, stabbed at what I thought was “Continue”. After a few seconds, the phone went dark. Dang.
I was second to last in the train. I hadn’t seen the front of the line in quite some time. The M100 Elan was behind me, and I was following two Esprits, one red, one black. The M100 had been tail-end Charlie all day, not always able to comfortably keep up with the crowd. The two Esprits are generally more interested in viewing the scenery than ripping through it. Still, they accelerated up and over a small hill. I lagged a bit, hoping to see the Elan make the turn. But I had to either keep up, or find a place to stop and reset navigation. So I caught the Esprits.
This is the second day of our drive, and yesterday we drove 550 miles. It was warm, and I have no A/C. I’d really like to relax. I never got the route book. On the first morning, I got the route for the phone, but I didn’t have time to preview it. I have been over many of the roads we’d be taking, but not all. I didn’t know we were taking a “spirited” detour. I would have skipped it and just gone to the hotel.
I followed the Esprits for quite a while. The road was narrow, bumpy, twisty, and had many driveways for the large properties. The road dropped precipitously for stream crossings, then rose abruptly, then repeated in the next little valley. These crossings are designed to allow water to flow over them in high water conditions. They’re concrete culverts, crenellated, and not high above the creekbeds. Crossing these carrying any speed compresses the suspension, and the surface changes from rough road to smoother concrete. You have to be careful.
I wasn’t comfortable running fast on this road and I was surprised the Esprits both kept it up. We weren’t going super fast – we caught a pickup truck, but he was moving pretty quickly himself. About when I decided to pull over and plot navigation directly to the hotel, we came to a T-intersection. The red Esprit went left, black went right, then pulled over. I followed black, who waved me by. Instead, I parked behind them and worked the phone.
When I looked up, black was gone. I caught up a couple of minutes later. We ran at a sensible speed for some minutes and came to another T-intersection. We parted ways there, them to the left, me to the right. I laughed when I saw them right behind me a couple of miles from the hotel.
We learned later that there were two incidents that we missed. One was our friend the red Esprit. Crossing one of these streams, they hit one of the crenellations and bent a wheel. The other was more serious, I am told. At the same place, a yellow Evora met with disaster. No injuries, but scuttlebutt suggests the car was totalled.
I’ve never organized a club drive, at least not for more than three cars. I have participated in dozens of club drives – one day drives, weekend drives. We’ve had our share of mechanical issues but never any accidents. I’d be mortified if anything like this happened on a drive I led. I think that back road was a poor route choice, given how long everybody had been driving.
I was at the back of the pack, going a bit faster than I wanted to go. I enjoy the back roads. I drive them all the time. I enjoy the scenery, I drive down the main streets of dozens of small towns. I see the sights. I’m fine going 5-7 mph over the posted limit. I don’t want to be that guy in the sports car. I like driving my car fast, but I know what “fast” is and I know I can’t do it on the highway.
They were washing cars in the hotel garage. I got in line. A couple of other LoCos were there too. I “brag” all the time that my car is always the dirtiest in the group, so I caught a little grief for getting it washed. Later, I went up to the restaurant on the top floor for drinks, hors d’oeuvres, and conversation. I generally try to meet folks who haven’t heard all my stories, but I was with other LoCos. This is when I heard about the day’s unfortunate incidents.
Saturday morning was the Concours d’Elegance and group photo. These are always an exercise in cat herding to some degree. Organizing the movements of over a hundred vehicles is never simple, but this one involved a 32 mile drive from the hotel to a park on the banks of the Colorado River in Marble Falls. There was some attempt at getting photographs from a Tesla mounted with robots and using a drone to shoot us crossing over a bridge. We were given lots of instructions about hand signals from the Tesla, but I’m guessing only the first few cars in the train were involved in that.
When we got to the park, they sorted us by model. I got a lot of questions about the damage to the clam. For quite a while, until some stragglers arrived, I was the only BRG Elise there. There are always other green Elises. In the end, there were three: two BRG and one metallic. They guy I was parked next to, David, has 178,000 miles on his. His was pristine compared to mine. There were several cars there with stickers for as many tracks as I’ve been to. Even without the giant tape-covered hole in my front clam, my car has the most “patina”. It is very much the beater of the show.
Emiras and Elises
All in a row
“We can put a passenger seat in it, but it won’t carry many groceries.”
Elans
Afterwards, Kevin and I had lunch with a couple of the other guys at the River City Grill, a short walk from the park. While eating I watched the occasional jet-skier stooging around on the river. It was a warm day, and I was happy drinking an iced tea in the air conditioning.
Back at the hotel, I dealt with a couple of errors and omissions. Every trip, I play a game of “what did I forget?” This time it was my tech sheets for the track days. Michael scanned and emailed them to me. I got them printed out, then met Kevin upstairs for drinks.
For dinner, I had the $63 chicken. Tonight’s speaker was automotive journalist Sam Smith. He’s been writing about cars for twenty years, was executive editor at Road & Track for a while. He’s driven just about every interesting car over that time, has done some racing, some television, and so on. It’s not surprising that he owned a Lotus for a while, an Elan. His talk was pretty well-suited to the audience. Preaching to the choir, you might say.
Sunday was a day running laps at Circuit of the Americas. This was put on by Chin Track Days and was not the official LOG 43 track day. A number of us couldn’t resist the pull of driving on a Formula One track.
Sunday night’s dinner was pork. Both dinners included cheesecake for dessert. It’s strictly off the diet, but I enjoyed both of them anyway. Sunday’s speaker was Russell Carr, head of design for Lotus for the last decade or so. After he gave his talk, he took questions from the audience. He worked on the Emira, Evija, Eletre, and Emeya. I’d never heard of the last one. The Emira is out of my price range, the Evija is out of nearly everyone’s price range, and the Eletre is an SUV and so does not interest me. The Emeya is a 4-door. There are many design elements common across the line, and he went through the design decisions behind them. I found it quite interesting.
On Monday, we went to Harris Hill Raceway for the LOG 43 track day.
For the trip back home, I was concerned about time, so I let the phone pick my route. I knew I wouldn’t be spending a ton of time on Interstates, so didn’t select the “no highways” option. I needed to get as far down the road as possible to make Tuesday a reasonable day, so I knew I’d be driving at night, violating another of my rules. On top of that, I’m running with only one headlight now, so I wanted to be as close as possible to my overnight destination. Last time I drove home from Austin, I stayed in Snyder. This time I opted for Abilene, about an hour closer to Austin. Still, if I stayed for my last track session at 4:30, I’d be driving until after 10. So I did what I seldom do: skipped some track time.
I ended up driving in the dark for an hour and a quarter. In that time, my windshield collected more bugs than the entire drive to Austin. I don’t know why so many bugs, but by the time I got to the hotel, vision was a real problem.
There are a few trees around the entrance to the hotel. I don’t know anything about birds. Birds in my yard get quiet after dark, except for owls, which aren’t in my yard very often. The birds in these trees weren’t owls, and they weren’t quiet. I wasn’t getting the full Alfred Hitchcock The Birds vibe, but I thought it was strange. I asked the desk clerk what kind of birds they are. She didn’t know. When I park, I prefer end spots. I nearly made the big mistake of parking in the end spot under one of the trees. Somebody parked their pickup truck there. I don’t know how clean it was when they parked it, but it was covered with birdshit in the morning.
Much of the drive home was on four-lane divided highways, some Interstate, some US routes. I found the Interstate parts fairly miserable. Way too much traffic. On these four-lane stretches, I kept coming across what I call “left-laniacs”, people who can’t seem to see the signs that say, “Keep right except to pass” or the Texas version, “Left lane for passing only”. They cruise for mile after mile in the left lane. Half a dozen times, I’d slowly reel one of these in only to have them switch to the right lane just as I catch them, making me change lanes to go around them. They’ve been in the left lane all day, why move out just when I catch up to them?
Texas isn’t my favorite state to drive through. Parts of west Texas make Kansas and Nebraska downright scenic in comparison.
When I got to Dumas, I had the choice of going straight north on US 287 (through Oklahoma and eastern Colorado) or heading west on US 87 (into New Mexico and up I-25). I prefer the latter, even though it’s more Interstate. But it would have taken me about half an hour longer, and I was past ready to get home. US 287 gets quite a bit of truck traffic. More truck traffic, I think, than any non-Interstate highway I’ve been on. Luckily, the road is fundamentally straight and flat and has a fair number of passing lanes, so it’s easy to pass.
Before I left home on this trip, I was telling people that I expected to get as much as 42 miles per gallon at some point. The drive down wasn’t exactly an economy run. On the way back, I set my pace to be about 5 mph over the limit, and speed limits in Texas are higher, so my revs were up a bit. The closest I got was 39.7 mpg. I still think 42 mpg is possible.
Over the six days of this trip, I drove 2,080 miles on streets, roads, and highways and 234 on the track for a grand total of 2,314 miles.
The route back was the same as the route there, with two exceptions. I drove to Heber City via I-80 and US 191 instead of the slow, scenic route through the park. And on the other end, I took US 40 from Kremmling to Granby and over Berthoud Pass rather than through Silverthorne and the Eisenhower tunnel.
When I was just about to Heber City, I realized that I’d left my LOG 35 cap in the hotel room. I can picture it exactly as I left it: right next to the room phone, with a cloth mask in it. I called the hotel when I got home, but they say housekeeping didn’t find anything.
Coming over Rabbit Ears Pass, I encountered a few cars that were running in the Colorado Grand. The first one was an early Porsche. I don’t know that I’d have spotted him if he hadn’t waved at me. Next was a red Ferrari. There was a yellow one, I didn’t get a good look at it, could have been a Morgan. Finally, a Mercedes I think was lost. He was at the stop sign at the junction with CO 14 and pulled out and followed me. All the other guys were going the other way. He turned around before he went too far.
The drive from Kremmling to Granby was new to me. Byers Canyon is nice, if a little short.
I was pleasantly surprised throughout the day that the truck traffic was considerably less than on Friday. Auto traffic was pretty bad from Granby to home, exacerbated by showers from Winter Park to Golden. I didn’t actually get rained on until Idaho Springs or so, but all of Berthoud Pass was wet, and the cars kicked up a lot of spray. I’d say it improved when I caught up to the rain, but then puddles made me a little nervous.
My trip home took about half an hour less than Friday’s drive.
So that’s the story.
Now, two final thoughts.
Where Did the Oil Go?
Michael figured it out right away when I told him what Dave and TJ said. Dave and TJ would have figured it out had I thought to tell them that we did an engine swap over the winter.
Of course, the cooler and lines drained when we pulled the old motor out. So they’re empty. When we filled the new engine with oil, it didn’t fill the cooler because the thermostat was closed. It doesn’t open until I put it under “track conditions”, whatever that means. When it opens, the cooler fills with oil and we’re suddenly two or two and a half quarts low.
The problem with that theory is that when I put one quart of oil into the car, I was able to run a 12 lap session and get 3 laps in another session before having the problem again. I guess that means there was an air bubble in the cooler that didn’t come out until the heat from the 12 lap session worked it out.
Which only leads to the next problem: this was not my first track day after the engine swap.
I’ve done 4 track days at HPR. Not a lot of laps: 90 laps over 12 sessions. One day was a Thursday Evening event, one was a half-day in April, one “session” was the RMVR Ticket to Ride. And the Ferrari day. How did I run 90 laps at HPR and not put it under “track conditions”?
Things that make you go “hmmmm”.
I have now put three quarts of oil in and all is good. If I was half a quart low when I left the house and the cooler uses two and a half, that’s the three. I’m reasonably certain I’m good to go now, but I won’t know until the next time I take it to the track. (And maybe not even then.)
I never put more than a quart in at a time to get the dipstick to read full or nearly full. I’m assuming that I went from full to a quart low in an instant on the track, when I could get on the high cam one moment but not the next. The distance driven at a quart low was fairly limited and at low revs.
I’ve done more than fifty track days and I’ve never had any need for brake fluid or motor oil. Needed both in one day.
LOG 40 Reflections
The pandemic took a bit of a toll on this LOG. It was supposed to happen last year, but we all know what happened. Some things just couldn’t be overcome, like the travel restrictions. I was looking forward to seeing the speakers live. I hoped to see the Evija and the Emira. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed.
I often get lazy and refer to “the Lotus club”. But really, the cars are the excuse to meet people. It’s not a club of cars, it’s a club of people who share a passion for cars.
I met quite a few really nice people. How’s that not a good time?
I repeat: I met quite a few really interesting, accomplished, nice people. I had a great time, even if it wasn’t perfect.
I wouldn’t say that I attend LOG for the track day, but I can say I don’t think I’ll attend a LOG that doesn’t have a track day.
Utah Motorsports Campus is the seventeenth track I’ve driven, in the ninth different state.
The facilities are top-notch. Of the tracks I’ve been to, only COTA has better. In many ways, this is COTA but on a smaller scale. The garages are just as nice, only smaller. The meeting rooms are just as nice, but smaller and fewer. It has a go-kart track, an off-road track (with a giant jump). There’s a restaurant and a clubhouse. The parking lot is enormous.
As for the track, it has four configurations: East Course, West Course, Outer Course, and Full Course. We ran the Outer Course, which is 15 turns in just a bit over 3 miles. It’s not billiard table flat, but there’s not more than a couple of meters of elevation change. It’s fast: there are no second gear turns. For the most part, you don’t have to worry about hitting anything if you go off.
We were asked to arrive at the track by 8:00 so everybody could get checked in in time for an 8:45 drivers meeting. I left the hotel at 7 and was parked in the paddock promptly at 8.
I’ve been in a lot of drivers meetings. This one was perhaps the least polished. Polished or not, all the important information was covered. The four or five instructors introduced themselves then the lead instructor started running through the topics. At times, he’d falter a bit and one of the other instructors would jump in and complete the thought or provide something the others had missed.
There were a couple of things that were out of the ordinary. First, everybody got out on track and followed the instructors around a very slow lap. At the end of it, we parked in rows of three with the first row at the start/finish line. An interesting and unusual photo opportunity.
Another unusual facet for me was that we never really used the paddock. Typically, we all empty our cars, placing our things adjacent to our parking places in the paddock. Today, we all unloaded our stuff into one of the garages and parked our cars on pit road. We could park anywhere along here when not on the track as we didn’t need to park near our stuff. And it was quicker and easier to get on and off the track. The relatively small number of cars made this possible. I can’t see it working with 60 or more cars. (I didn’t get a car count, but it was only about three dozen, including the instructors’ cars.)
The advanced/intermediate group was out first. I found myself behind our ghost town drive leader, Speedy Gonzalez. Turns 5 and 6 are the slowest. Not 2nd gear slow, but nearly. Speedy Gonzalez got to turn 6 and spun out. I was saving my camera batteries for later in the day, so I didn’t get it on video. Back in the pits, I asked one of the guys what happened. This is “hearsay evidence”, so not admissible in court, but I’m told he said that he “ran out of talent” in turn 6 and blamed cold tires. You’d think, after racing Formula Fords for hundreds of hours, he’d come up with an excuse that wasn’t the crutch of novices.
I cut my first session short. I was getting a brake warning light in some of the left turns. I needed to top off my brake fluid. I asked around and found a gentleman from North Carolina who kindly donated some to me. I’m sorry I didn’t get his name, but I really appreciated it.
In the paddock, before we moved to the pits
Start/finish photo opp
Lined up on pit road
Smoking Evora
Stricken 2-Eleven
Obligatory action shot
I also cut my second session short. After a few laps, I started getting the rev limiter at 6000 rpm. Back in the pits, I tracked down Dave Simkin and TJ, who hooked their laptop up to my car. They quickly ruled out two or three possibilities and theorized I was low on oil. TJ checked the dipstick: it was dry. The switchover to the high cam is activated by oil pressure. Insufficient oil, no cam. I checked my oil before I left the house and it was okay. How am I a quart (or more) low?
To remedy my problem, I needed to make a trip into town. There’s an auto parts store about ten miles away, so off I went. I bought a quart of oil, poured it in, and now the dipstick showed oil almost to the top mark.
On the way back to the track, I decided to stop at the gas station in town to top off the tank. The pump wouldn’t accept my Discover card so I tried a Visa. Still no joy. A bit frustrated, I hopped back in the car and left. When I got back to the track, I noticed that I hadn’t closed the fuel filler door. And saw that I didn’t have my gas cap. Clearly, in my frustration, I forgot to put it back on. I’d driven off with the cap sitting on top of the car. So off I went, back to town, to find my missing cap. Luckily, someone had found it and given it to the cashier. Each trip to town was about half an hour lost.
When I got back to the track, my group was already on the track, so I quickly put my helmet on and joined the session. Each session was supposed to be thirty minutes. As I had cut my first two sessions short, I still hadn’t seen a checkered flag. In this session, when I saw that I’d done 12 laps, I knew I was well over the half-hour session length. By the time I was back in the pits, I was 14 minutes late. I never saw a checkered flag (which would have been shown to me at three different places), so I’m guessing they weren’t that strict about who was on track when. I never did see the checkered flag all day. But I get ahead of myself.
Anyway, all was good. A few minutes after the hour, I went back out. After 4 or 5 laps, I began having the limiter problem again. When I stopped back in the pits, the dipstick was dry again. Where is all the oil going? I’m not burning it; I’m not putting out any smoke at all. I’m not leaking it; there’s never a fresh drop of anything under the car, and a quart of oil would certainly overflow the undertray. And it’s not getting in the coolant, as the overflow tank is its usual pinkish color. Where’s the oil going?
I had no choice but to call it quits.
The instructors were giving rides. There were four Evora GTs we could ride in, but I’ve already driven an Evora on the track. One guy, Jonathan, had his 2-Eleven there, so I asked if he’d give me a ride. I don’t know how heavily modified it is. He told me it puts out 330hp, so it’s not stock. The body also features a lot of carbon fiber. This made it interesting getting in and out, as it has no doors and you must climb over the top of the roll cage without stepping on any bodywork.
We got me all strapped in and started down pit road. At the entrance to the track, the steward reminded Jonathan that the novice session was on track and he should take appropriate care not to divebomb the newbies.
The car is pretty amazing. It’s not quite twice the horsepower of mine, and at least 400lbs lighter. He’s running slicks (Hoosier R7), naturally, and he’s done thousands of laps here. There weren’t many cars on track, so we had an open run. On our out lap, in turn 6, he missed the turn and we went wide. “OPR”, he said: other peoples’ rubber.
Next lap around, in turn 6 again, where we went straight the first time around (and where Speedy Gonzalez spun on his first lap), all hell broke loose. The engine stopped, which threw the car into a spin. Jonathan took his hands off the wheel (so he wouldn’t break a thumb), we went around twice and were in a cloud of tire smoke. He restarted and went a hundred yards down the track toward the next corner bunker, which was showing us the “meatball” flag. He pulled off the track and stopped the car. We were leaking oil. A lot of it. There was a slick from turn 6 to halfway between turns 7 and 8. There was oil inside the cockpit, in the right front wheel well, and all over the ground under the engine compartment.
The rescue truck was there very quickly and the tow truck was right on its heels. Jonathan described the incident to the rescue crew as they winched his car onto the flatbed. He rode in the towtruck, I went with the rescue crew. First, we went back to the site of the spin (driving the wrong way on the track, which I’ve never done before). Leaving there, we made our way back to the pits using some of the infield service roads. Oh, and this was the first (and hopefully last) time I got to ride in the rescue truck.
I felt bad for Jonathan. After having my day ended due to an oil issue, to be his passenger when he suffered a catastrophic oil failure, made me wonder if I was suffering some bad oil karma for some reason. I know his problem was in no way my fault, but I felt some guilt nonetheless.
The cleanup took 45 minutes. By the time the track was green again, there were only about a dozen cars left. Everybody still there got to run as much as they wanted in the last hour of the day as they stopped running by groups.
Just before I left, there was a bit more excitement. When they opened the track back up, a yellow Evora that had been parked for a couple of hours got started up. That produced a fairly big cloud of white smoke. It wasn’t clear to me if it was oil or coolant or something else.
I took this as a sign for me to make my exit and go back to the hotel.
I bought three more quarts of oil and put a quart and a half into the engine before the dipstick indicated it was full. Still no smoke, no drips, no contaminated coolant. Where did it go? I’ll just have to check the oil every time I make a stop on the way home.
Both there at the track and back in the hotel parking lot, I discussed my experience with several people. Everybody had a look under the car, both front and back (the oil cooler is in the front), checked out my coolant reservoir, and scratched their chins in wonder. Nobody had any ideas.
After dinner, I started packing the car with the idea of making an easier departure in the morning. While I was doing this, Dave and TJ came by and we discussed the situation. They said the oil coolers and lines held about two quarts, or maybe two and a half, they weren’t sure. They said the oil cooling system doesn’t operate except under track conditions. It sounded to me like they thought this would somehow explain it, but it still didn’t make sense to me.
I didn’t run enough laps to thoroughly learn the track; I know I could have picked up a few more seconds. Particularly, I know I can take turns 1 and 11 faster. That said, no Elise passed me. I did get passed by some Evoras, but most of those were instructor-driven. I got passed by the 2-Eleven and an instructor’s 911. And I got passed by a couple of Exiges and the V6 Cup car. I could only manage 118 on the long straight. It was so long I expected to be able to top 120. I am somewhat disappointed that I only ran half the number of laps I expected to, but so it goes. I think I acquitted myself well.
It was an interesting and unforgettable day, that’s for sure.
Tomorrow, hopefully, my trip home will not be so interesting.
Unless I want to leave the hotel, I’m pretty much limited to Starbucks. Luckily, they have more kinds of sandwiches than I’ll have mornings here, so no repeats are necessary. I sat down to eat my sandwich in front of the TV, which was showing the F1 race. I only missed the first ten laps. I’m so happy the cars have the halos. That halo saved Hamilton’s life, no doubt in my mind. The race kept me entertained until it was nearly time to meet for the guided group drive to the ghost town of Eureka City.
The fellow running the drive collected us in the lobby at 10. (I will refer to him from now on as Speedy Gonzales, SG for short.) He gave us a short description of Eureka City and talked about the historian who will meet us there. The museum is normally closed on Sundays, as is the restaurant, but both will be open for us. He then described the route. Somebody pointed out that his route doesn’t match the route that was published. Obviously, nobody was carrying paper and pencil, so nobody took notes. He told us, “You’ll just have to keep up.”
Exiting the hotel, I was near the end of the train, but at our first red light I switched from the center lane to the right lane. It wasn’t that I wanted to get to the front of the line but more that I didn’t want the line to be so long, people would miss the light. When the light turned green, I was third in line. A couple of miles later, we got on the interstate and were soon going quite fast. I use a speedometer app on my phone. It keeps track of driving time, total distance, average speed, and so on. It recorded a maximum speed of 98. This was on the interstate in south suburban SLC. I like to go fast, too, but that’s why I do the track day. I think we lost half the group within five minutes of leaving the hotel.
We exited the interstate and Bobbi pulled up next to me at the light. I hollered, “Does he know people are trying to follow him?” She replied, “I don’t think he gives a shit!” He didn’t make things any better when, shortly after getting on UT 68, he stopped for gas. The experienced drive leader will tell everybody to be gassed up when we meet or will arrange to meet at a gas station so folks can top off their tanks if needed. SG was the only one who needed to fill up, but I took advantage and made a comfort break and bought a beverage so it wasn’t a total waste.
When we were all ready to leave, a bunch of us LOCOs decided to make our own way and stayed at the gas station for a few minutes. Wayne was quite familiar with the area, so we put him in the lead. To our surprise, SG and the few cars that went with him were waiting for us on the side of the road not far from the station.
UT 68 goes south alongside the western shore of Utah Lake. It’s a fairly scenic drive, with a view of the lake and the Wasatch mountains behind it. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a salt lake, too. (I learn later that it’s a freshwater lake that is a bit saline because two-fifths of its outflow is evaporation.) Unfortunately, we were again going at a pretty good clip, not as fast as before, but still too fast to enjoy the scenery. It’s not a curvy road, but there are some bunny-hops that add a little lightness.
We stopped at the junction with US 6. We pulled into the parking lot of a defunct gas station. SG had mentioned the rustic ruins of a station where he had taken pictures of his car, but this didn’t look that photogenic to me. And we were all jammed in together, so I’m not sure what sort of photo one could get. In any event, nobody got out of their cars. We got going again, heading west on US 6. (On the return trip I think I figured it out: the rustic station was on the other side of US 6 from where we parked.)
Not long after, we arrived in Eureka City. It’s not what I’d call a “ghost town”. It has a population of about 700, has a nice new post office, a couple of restaurants, a museum, and a high school. And, driving around, we saw quite a few new or nearly new houses. When I think ghost town, I think nobody lives there. This, to me, seemed more like Central City before the gambling, without the tourists. A ghost of its former self, but not a ghost town.
We met our local historian who launched into his spiel. About ten minutes later, the cars we lost back at the start of the drive showed up. With everybody assembled, after a brief introduction, we followed him up the hill to one of the mines. We were parked everywhere. One of the homeowners invited six of us to park in his driveway.
The mine itself is sealed, looks like an unpaved parking lot now. There’s a tall stake in the middle, with a series of painted markings. “That tells us if it’s sinking.” The EPA did quite a bit of work here. They took the top eighteen inches of topsoil of every lot in town (if you can call it “topsoil”). Many of the old mine buildings are still standing, and still full of derelict equipment. He took us through one, the hoist building.
This held the machinery that ran the lifts to get the miners in and out of the mine. It was dark inside, too dark to shoot pictures with the SLR. The floor was covered with debris, lots of broken glass. In one area, everything looked to be covered with feathers. I don’t think it was feathers, though, because I didn’t see or smell any bird shit. Mostly it was just dusty.
It was quite interesting, so, in spite of the problematic drive down there, it was good in the end.
After the mine “tour”, we headed to the restaurant. Somehow, I managed to get there almost last. I was the second to last to get served. I had a raspberry shake, which is strictly off the diet. It was tasty, and I only ate half. I sat at a table with three other folks, a nice couple from Scottsdale and a doctor who lives in New York but had worked for a while in Denver. Nice folks.
Most folks went to the museum after eating, but by the time I was done, it was getting pretty late and I elected to pass on the museum. I wasn’t alone – our little LOCO breakaway group was still there. We let Wayne lead us back to the hotel. We weren’t going a million miles an hour, so I enjoyed the drive a bit more. We were a small group now; the most common car was the Evora, and all three were yellow.
Evora with “track pack”
Hoist room
Hoist room
Electrical machinery
Driving shot…
Tonight’s agenda at the hotel was a buffet dinner and a virtual tour through Classic Team Lotus.
The buffet was in the same room as last night’s banquet. I figured I’d just sit at the same table as last night, but the seating chart by the door was a bit different. I’m not sure it was the same chart. Did I miss seeing two of these things? My table from last night was full tonight, so I looked for another table that had some open slots. Again, I wasn’t carrying a writing utensil, so couldn’t write my name in the appropriate blank.
I found myself sitting next to Richard and his wife, Sandy, who I visited with last night. After I sat down, a couple came in and claimed two empty chairs and went off searching for food and/or drink. While they were gone, another couple came in. They were chagrined to find that there all the seats but one were taken. They had signed up on the chart to sit here. As I hadn’t, I told them to take my seat. They insisted that I remain where I was and they found another table. I felt a little bad.
The entertainment this evening was a virtual tour of Classic Team Lotus. Richard Parramint did the tour for us, which was quite kind of him, as it was about one in the morning his time. As is usual with these things, it took a few minutes to get through the technical difficulties, but once he got going, all was good. They’re working on quite an interesting bunch of cars at the moment. But then again, I’m sure they’re always working on an interesting bunch of cars.
This is the end of the festivities for most LOG attendees. I, however, have one more day: the track day at Utah Motorsports Campus.
To that end, we had a drivers meeting in one of the conference rooms after the buffet. It’s not the same sort of drivers meeting we get at the track and not a substitution for that meeting. Here, we were handed our tech forms, told when to arrive at the track, got a count of cars by group (novice, intermediate, advanced) and based on that data decided to combine advanced and intermediate. I applauded this move. With three groups, we’d be having 20-minute sessions. I much prefer 30-minute sessions as a much smaller portion of your time is spent on in and out laps.
Our friend Speedy Gonzales ran the meeting. He made a point to stress, repeatedly, that we shouldn’t try to impress the instructors. He told us he had hundreds of hours racing Formula Fords, and nothing we could do would impress him or the instructors, and may, in fact, just scare them. So we were supposed to be on our best behavior. I wasn’t too concerned with this topic, as I won’t be needing an instructor and I always try to be on my best behavior when I’m on the track.
The last thing we were told was to get a good night’s sleep. I’m down for that!
I began the day with a breakfast sandwich from the Starbucks in the hotel lobby, which I ate at a tableful of fellow LOCOs.
The first activity on today’s agenda was the group panoramic photo and Concours. We’d drive from the hotel to a local high school parking lot. But first, everybody was out cleaning up their cars. It rained yesterday evening, so it was mostly a matter of wiping the cars dry. My car, somehow, was already dry and still quite dirty. Is there something about my car that makes any water on it dry unnaturally quickly, leaving only the water spots?
I really don’t care that much if my car is dirty. I often joke that, whenever I take it to, say, Cars & Coffee, I’m always in the running for the Dirtiest Car in Show award. Half a dozen people must have asked me, “Aren’t you going to wash it?” Nope!
We independently headed for our photo at Cottonwood High School. Arriving there, we more or less randomly parked at the west end of the lot. This felt a lot like your typical Cars & Coffee, except that almost every car was a Lotus. While we wandered around, checking out the cars, asking the owners about their customizations, and deciding who gets our votes in the various classes, it started to rain lightly. My car was no longer noticeably dirtier than anybody else’s, and I’ll admit to experiencing a bit of schadenfreude in so many people wasting so much effort cleaning their cars.
Lots of yellow here
Raindrops
Poor man’s pano
Needs a bigger scoop!
Exige with “track pack”
After a fair amount of socializing, we were told to go to the east end of the lot, with the newer cars (Elise/Exige/Evora) in one line and the older cars in another. Many of us are independent thinkers and eschewed neat lines. Let’s just say it looked a lot like people trying to get out of a parking lot after a concert, and it took about as long.
During this operation, the rain really started coming down. A number of cars didn’t have tops; umbrellas were deployed. Some people looked pretty miserable. It was a quick shower, then gone.
As soon as we were all shifted, we were moved back to the west end of the parking lot, arranged by model in a big fan in front of a scissor lift. This took even longer than it took to make the first shift. The photographer, atop the lift, directed traffic. Once all the cars were in place, we took a picture with everybody standing behind their cars, and one with no people.
The photographer starts on his left and works around to his right. When he snapped the first shot, two guys up front start running behind the lift to the other side in an attempt to be in the picture twice. I’d have had trouble doing it but these guys never had a chance. It would have been nice if they’d pulled it off, though.
As I said, this was also the Concours. I don’t take these too seriously, it’s not really my thing. But some people are pretty into it. So I was somewhat amused at how many people spent so much time looking my car over. The odometer topped 91,000 miles on the way out here, and the more than fifty track days haven’t been kind to the finish. The nose is terribly pitted, paint is coming off the tow ring, I’ve worn holes through the fiberglass, in the back there’s the damage from the loose battery, and the big chunk taken out by the incident with the dolly.
More than one person said it adds character. One guy said he’d vote for it if he had a ballot (he didn’t have one, some issue when he checked in). I always figured I’d be the last car to get votes in a Concours, but I’m a bit curious if somebody voted for me because of all my battle scars.
Those 91k miles are well above the average for an Elise, but I have nowhere near the most. I talked to one guy from San Diego with a long commute (daily from San Diego to 29 Palms?) who has put more than 120k on his, and somebody told me there was a guy here from Michigan with 160k. I’d have liked to have chatted with him.
All morning I pondered which self-directed drive to take. The local chapter had devised about ten of them. I was thinking I’d like to head to Antelope Island. I asked several others where they were going, many were non-commital, and nobody seemed that interested in Antelope Island. In the end, I stayed in the high school parking lot until there were only a dozen or so cars left.
The agenda for the evening was a cash bar at 5, a banquet at 6. I got dressed up for it, wearing a sport coat for the first time since LOG 35. I had a couple of Lotus Lagers and struck up a rather lengthy conversation with Richard, a very pleasant man who laughed at all my jokes.
When it was time to have a seat in the banquet room, I saw that there was a seating chart. Evidently, I was supposed to pick my seat when I checked in yesterday. Nobody told me. Here it was, almost completely filled in. I found an empty seat at a table in the back, but I didn’t have a pen and didn’t put my name in the blank on the chart.
Due to various travel restrictions, the guests we had planned on having in the room couldn’t make it. Instead, we got a short video with Richard Parramint talking to two Lotus mechanics from the F1 glory days. They told some funny stories of the practical jokes they used to play on the other teams.
Next up was the awards ceremony. Ross got the task of announcing the names. This went well for about two minutes. Instead of announcing the names of the winners, they used their LOG registration numbers. To add to the confusion, they somehow cross-threaded the awards and classes. That is, they’d announce a Seven owner as the winning Elan. They managed to get it squared away eventually; names in their proper categories. Ross handled it as well as anybody could have.
I didn’t count, but it seemed to me that more than half the winners were LOCOs. I’m sure it wasn’t that many. We are particularly well-represented here this weekend, though, and Lotus Colorado took more than our share of trophies home. About the only ones we weren’t in the running for were longest drive and best personalized plate.
Tomorrow I think I’ll take the guided drive down to the ghost town.
Every year, unless there’s a pandemic, anyway, Lotus Ltd, the national Lotus owners group, holds a Lotus Owners Gathering. These events are hosted by whatever local chapter wants to step up to the plate. The only LOG I’ve attended so far was the one we hosted in Colorado Springs. Most often, they’re deep in the Eastern time zone and I’ve been reluctant to make the drive. In 2020, the fine folks in Salt Lake City took on the challenge. COVID saw that challenge and said, “Not this year!” so it was postponed to 2021, where we begin our story.
I wasn’t the only one from Lotus Colorado, as you might expect. The LOCO gang is pretty devoted to group drives, so a two-day drive was organized for the trip to SLC and there was a choice of two drives for the return trip, one of which was several days and hits several national parks, including a visit to the north rim of the Grand Canyon. Unfortunately, I just started a new job and had to minimize time off, so I did the travel on my own.
Friday, September 10
I left the house at 6 am and headed up I-70 to Silverthorne. Yes, this is a violation of Rule #1. There is a fairly limited number of routes from Denver to Salt Lake City. Most people tend to use I-80. I-70 is another choice. Other than interstates, your choice is pretty much down to Trail Ridge Road and Poudre Canyon. Both are nice drives, but each would add a significant amount of time to the trip.
Between the two interstates, the next most obvious route is US 40. It covers the vast majority of miles between the two terminals, with a short stint on I-70 on the Denver end and I-80 on the SLC end. I drive the section of US 40 between its intersection with I-70 and the western end of Trail Ridge Road in Granby fairly often. A variation of this trip would be to forego Berthoud Pass and continue on I-70 to Silverthorne. From there, take CO 9 north to Kremmling. That’s a new road for me, so I went that way.
I stopped for breakfast at a bagel place in Silverthorne. There, I had a short visit with a couple visiting the area from Portland. They began the conversation by saying that they liked my car because it matches the colors of the University of Oregon.
From the top of Hoosier Pass south of Breckenridge to Kremmling, CO 9 runs downhill beside the Blue River, a tributary of the Colorado. There are two dams on the Blue, Dillon Reservoir and Green Mountain Reservoir, dividing the valley into thirds. The twenty miles from Silverthorne to Green Mountain Reservoir runs along a spectacular string of 12 and 13,000 peaks run to our left. After Green Mountain Reservoir, the valley flattens and widens. Here, trees are only growing on the slopes and the valley floor is fairly barren. North from Kremmling, we climb along Muddy Creek, which is dammed by Wolford Mountain Reservoir just a couple miles from town. Thirty miles up the road we reach Muddy Pass and the junction with CO 14.
John C. Frémont explored this area in 1844, crossing Muddy Pass, heading south. He wanted to search for the unknown source of the Colorado River but “a mob of Arapahoes in war paint” appeared from the east. His men swam their horses across the river and hustled up the Blue River to where Dillon Reservoir is. With Arapahoes everywhere in the woods now (who were actually looking to pick a fight with the Utes), they hurried up Hoosier Pass. Twelve years later, Frémont was the first Republican candidate for president.
Passing the junction with CO 14, we start to climb the eastern side of Rabbit Ears Pass. Typically, the top of a pass is a crest. Here it’s a plateau. The road runs nearly level at about 9,400′ for about four and a half miles. Drop down the west side of Rabbit Ears to Steamboat Springs, and onto the Colorado Plateau, which we’ll cross for most of the rest of the day.
Life Elevated
We follow US 40 west until Heber City, Utah. Traffic was about as light as I expected until I got to Vernal, where I had lunch. I was not terribly happy with the traffic from Vernal to Heber City. The road is nice enough: a good surface, with just about every significant climb having a passing lane. But the traffic west of Vernal was not to my liking. Lots of trucks running in both directions. I don’t know what they’re carrying, but they’re the ones that look like inverted cones, running in tandem, 38-wheelers.
Between Starvation State Park and Strawberry Reservoir, I just missed a rain squall. I’d have rather driven through the squall than missed it: the road was wet and the big trucks kicked up huge clouds of spray. So much for having a clean car.
At Heber City, Google wants me to go to I-80, but I’d rather not. Instead, I find a route through Wasatch Mountain State Park. I enjoyed this little trek: Pine Canyon Drive, S Guardsman Pass Road, and Big Cottonwood Canyon Road. Those first two were narrow, steep, and windy with no center stripe and a 15mph speed limit. Which is about right: I encountered a deer and a Bighorn Sheep ewe standing on the road.
I pulled into the hotel parking lot at 4:20 and was directed where to park: drive under the limbo pole, past the Evoras and Elans and Europas, into the upper part of the lot with the Exiges and finally my Elise brethren. I wasn’t the last to arrive, but nearly so. As usual, I have the dirtiest car in the group. Everybody who needed it washed their cars at the hotel. I barely had time to check into LOG and into the hotel before it was time for the Gathering of Lotus Owners.
Out in a tent on the back lawn, we had some food and a cash bar. Soft taco fixins, chips and various dips. A local brewery made a Lotus Lager available. I think it was more like an amber ale. I like amber ales, so I had two Lotus Lagers. Somehow, I managed to gather with other LOCOs, which I don’t have to drive 600 miles to do. I resolved to mingle as much as possible with people who haven’t already heard all my stories.
