For many, the annual gathering at Summit Point Motorsports Park for the Out Motorsports Rainbow Road trackcross event is the big feature of the year. Traditionally held in April, it represents the springtime and thawing of winter where everyone can bring their dailies, track rats, and projects to come hang out and enjoy some racing. It’s a fantastic event for veterans and newbies alike, and everyone leaves with new friends and memories.
Even though I live in the upper Midwest, I’m not one to skip the springtime Summit Point event just because I’m far away. The first year that I attended, I had a disaster roadtrip in Blooper, my shitbox 350z drift car, which wound up costing me an engine and several pounds of body weight from sweating with no AC for 3000 miles. Last year I decided to fly instead, and it was so nice not suffering on the road for days on end that I booked another flight for this year. My buddy Cliff wanted to join in the fun, and for his inaugural trip he chose to make the drive in Beverly, his beloved 1992 Crown Victoria.
One of us traveled to Summit Point in first class, and the other might as well have been in the cargo hold.
The Calm on Wednesday Night
Marissa: My flight was booked for Thursday afternoon, so all I had to do was finish packing and head to the airport. I was going as a spectator instead of a driver this time, so no need to check a bag or take my helmet with me. I had my backpack and duffel by the door, my PTO was booked, and everything was ready to go. My flight would leave Fargo at 12:30pm, I’d connect in Chicago O’Hare, then land in Baltimore around 6pm in time for dinner with my girlfriend. I’d even have time to grab caramel dipped apples from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory in one of the terminals.
Cliff: In typical anxious fashion, I was pouring over my route options while I was getting my gear ready to go. There was freezing rain in the forecast, so I had Beverly in the garage so that I wouldn’t have to chisel a door open in the morning. I had the trunk loaded down, gas tank full, and went to bed ready for an early morning departure into whatever Mother Nature felt like throwing at me. I had an overnight stop in Indianapolis to avoid the worst tolls on the turnpikes, but come hell or high water, I was making it to beautiful West Virginia.
Stormy Thursday Departures
Cliff: By 6:15am we were on the road, heading out into slushy rain on the freeways in Western Wisconsin. The roads cleared up about 30 miles in, but the rain persisted. In spite of that, Beverly and I were still making tracks. I was well into Wisconsin before Marissa was even due to be at the airport.
The first day of a road trip is always easy: I was cradled in the supreme comfort of 90s Ford Velour, had my road snacks, and the tunes were jamming. Before I knew it, I was in Janesville, refilling the tank to trek into the morning Chicago traffic. As I traveled, Discord started lighting up with updates from Marissa and the coming tragedy of air travel in inclement weather. Just to rub salt in the wound, I kept peppering my own updates showing just how far I was making it.
Beverly and I shot through Chicago, finally stopping at the Southland plaza for a break before continuing on into Indiana. As I turned south onto I-65 out of Gary, the clouds broke up and I was finally in warm weather, truly enjoying a vacation road trip. I made it to the north side of Lafayette, Indiana for another break as I learned Marissa’s flight out of Chicago was cancelled.
At that point, I threw up the offer to backtrack north to rescue her from the airport and drive her the rest of the way, waiting in case that had to happen. After about 45 minutes, I was cleared to continue south. Pulling into Indianapolis, I checked into my appalling hotel and went for dinner, all while waiting to see how the drama at O’Hare would play out.
Marissa: It was a snowy morning and roads were clear but glazing with ice in the Fargo area, so I decided to go to the airport a little early. After dropping the xB into his pre-booked parking spot I got to the (thankfully short) security line around 10am since I wasn’t checking a bag. I nearly lost my OMS hat in the baggage scanner but it was an easy wait for my flight.
Until it was delayed to 1:30.
Then 2:30.
Then 3:30.
Then 5:30pm.
The window for making the connection (and obtaining the dipped apples) was rapidly shrinking until it was too late to catch. American Airlines automatically rebooked me into a different flight that included a new destination: Reagan (DCA) in Washington DC. After all the delays I’d arrive around midnight, which sucked, but was doable.
Thursday Escalates
Marissa: I landed in O’Hare Thursday evening and my next flight was immediately delayed by two hours before the wheels even hit the ground, putting my eventual arrival to DC at 2am. It had been a frustrating day and there were obnoxious kids on my flight from Fargo, but at least I was at the halfway point. With the new delay, I was able to grab some dipped apples to at least fulfill that side quest before plopping down on the floor near a big window to wait.
Less than ten minutes after posting my latest update in the OMS Discord, things went from bad to worse:
From where I was sitting, a ticker board of flights flipped everything to the ominous red “CANCELLED” flag and a swarm of people flooded towards the help kiosks. My phone pinged with a helpful “You can rebook your flight for free” message as I called my now-dozing girlfriend to let her know the situation. After several failed attempts in the airline’s app to grab a new flight, I was rebooked onto a morning flight with a connection to DC for a final arrival time of 1:30pm. I didn’t want to bother with finding a hotel and having to fight through a TSA line in the morning, so I resigned myself to spending the night in the airport.
Since all the restaurants had long since closed for the night, I scored a turkey sandwich for dinner from a Hudson News store right before they closed at 10pm. With many hours to kill and frustration simmering, I continued to play the flight roulette and re-rebooked onto a different flight through Indianapolis that would put me in DC at 11:40am. But the departure was many hours from now, so I headed to the gate to try getting some sleep.
Cliff: While Marissa was finally in the air to O’Hare, I went to my regional favorite for dinner, the always glorious Waffle House. By the time I was back to the hovel for the night, Marissa was on the ground and trying to rebook her flight east. Once again, the offer to abandon my hotel and set out on a rescue mission was on the table. Truth be told, I’d rather be sleeping in the passenger seat of Beverly than where I was at the moment.
Sleepless Nights
Cliff: While I was tossing and turning in my hotel, Marissa was fighting battles of her own for something resembling a night’s rest. Other than that, nothing to report from Team First Class…
Marissa: Have you heard of “hostile architecture” in cities? Things like bars and spikes placed on benches and ledges to keep homeless people from napping on them. Chicago O’Hare has that in SPADES. Every chair by the gates has a metal armrest that doesn’t move, so you can’t lay down on anything. I glanced at the floor and immediately went “no”. I decided to take my chances being cramped on a chair with my bags. As people filtered out of the airport, the terminal was quiet. I started to doze off around midnight despite being twisted into a pretzel.
Of course, this is when the Latin club music started playing.
Near my gate was a walled off construction area for airport renovations. An overnight crew was having a fantastic time bopping to bangers, and while their taste in music was great, the timing was not. Eventually the music became a background drone and I nearly dozed off again.
Of course, this is when the army of vacuums arrived.
Maybe it’s because I had judged the floor as not sleep-worthy. Maybe I had bad karma. Maybe it’s like Chappell Roan said: Nothing good happens after midnight. A veritable militia of people with vacuums descended upon the tail end of the terminal and moved towards my gate, cleaning everything in sight. The noise was staggering so after half an hour I gave up and tottered through the airport like a zombie in search of quiet.
After 2:30am I settled on a tile ledge on a skywalk overlooking the gates outside. On the opposite end, several other airport hobos were also trying to sleep, so I clambered up and curled into a ball to try to sleep.
Friday Morning Cruising
Marissa: After nearly no sleep on a combination of hostile benches and a tile ledge, my body had more creaks than a house from the 1800s. An hour before my morning departure, I got up and shuffled to my gate. Boarding was fine and I made it to Indianapolis at 7:30am.
Thankfully, my connecting gate was right in front of me and boarding was on-time. I sighed with relief and settled into my seat. I was finally on the last flight of the saga! It can’t get any worse! I’ll be picked up by my lovely girlfriend (whom I adore for suffering the traffic to get to DCA in the middle of the day) and we’ll have the dipped apples together and it’ll be great!
“Is that Mike Pence?”
The guy next to me nudged my arm and gestured to the old man sitting diagonally from our row, showing me a photo of Pence on his phone for comparison. I looked at the photo and shrugged. “Well, maybe? Just looks like an old man.” Then he brought up a photo of Pence’s wife – sure enough, that was the woman with the old man. Mike Pence was sitting in the cheap seats along
with his grandkids, who promptly started screaming bloody murder as soon as the plane door closed and didn’t stop until we landed. Adding insult to injury, their bag in the overhead bin spilled a water bottle that soaked through my duffel bag and clothing.
Cliff: Thanks to my terrible night’s sleep, I was on the road early again. I had been advised to swing south through Cincinnati to avoid the worst of I-70. I found myself at Waffle House yet again for a hearty breakfast before departing Indianapolis, and after clocking my northern accent and out of state plates, I was blessed by the wonderful waitress with a tall cup of coffee for the road.
On the road again, I was heading hot and fast towards Ohio. I went from Indy all the way through Cincinnati and northeast to Wheeling, WV before stopping for fuel. All the while, receiving updates from whatever airline nonsense Marissa was dealing with and teasing with my own location. From Wheeling, I had a beautiful trip through Pennsylvania, up into the Allegheny Mountains and across the Maryland line.
I took a break in Keyser’s Ridge, letting Beverly cool off from her miles of steep climb and enjoying the cool mountain winds while admiring the scenery. From Keyser’s Ridge, it was a long descent down into Winchester, Virginia to our host hotel for the weekend. Somehow, regardless of my very lax, vacation-y pace, the great barge from the north managed to pull into town and drop anchor over an hour ahead of the one that was supposed to come in by air.
The Trip to Summit Point Was Still Worth It!
Marissa: Despite all the suffering, the end result of seeing all my Out Motorsports buddies was worth the stress and sleep deprivation. Nothing compares to seeing old faces and meeting new ones at the Summit Point event, and I look forward to it every year. Next time I think I’ll drive instead. Beverly was clearly the first class option.
Cliff: Are there things I’d change about my travel next year? Absolutely, mostly to do with route and overnight stop choices, but I don’t think I’ll chance air travel on a tight schedule in a Midwest spring. Perhaps Marissa needs to just load up with me for the drive, because Beverly never once let me down.
Just over 1100 miles of comfort, music, and gorgeous views culminated in the best weekend of my life. I finally met internet friends, made new ones, and spent time with the best car community I’ve ever had the honor of being a part of. I can’t thank Jake and the rest of the crew at Out Motorsports enough for what they’ve built here and have allowed so many wonderful people an opportunity to join. If you’re on the fence about attending any of the wonderful events the OMS crew puts on, take the leap, I guarantee it’ll be worth it.