The 5th Annual Miata Club Baguio Country Club Run
(21^st to 23^rd of October 2005)

Day 1: The Trip Up to Baguio 

I hate packing.  I can never just take what I anticipate I’ll need.  Each item of clothing that I think I’ll need has to have a back-up and that back-up’s gotta have a spare.  And I always end up with more than twice the clothes that I’ll need.  What the heck…

Just about everyone was on time at the assembly a bit before 5am last Friday morning.  Two Miata’s, a Suzuki Grand Vitarra and one Starex, nicknamed “the school bus”.   President Jojo took his silver Miata, Carlo and I, in his silver Miata, ChitoF in his Vitarra, and Keith in the “school bus” with 4 other “school kids”:  Alfie, JR, Zaffy and Nomer.  Just as we started to take off for Baguio at 5am, a call came in from Allan saying that he’s had to pass by his office and so as not to delay our departure he’s already on the road in his Toyota Fortuner and says that the way the club drives we’d surely catch up to him in no time.

Through the entirety of EDSA I keep my eyes peeled for Allan – nothing.  I get another call from him and he says that he’s already on the expressway and that he’ll slow down.  Now, because ChitoF had just freshly undergone the trauma of being fined for speeding on the South Expressway just the week before, and also having had to attend a seminar for that same ticket, we were nervously rendering strict compliance with the posted 100kph speed limit, which is nearly a snail’s pace for a Miata Club fun run.  But after 30 kilometers on the expressway - still no Allan.  Chito radios and asks the group to stop at the next gas station so that he can get something to eat.  I phone Allan and give him the information to stop at the next filling station, he responds by asking in his perennial. childlike tone, “Is there a McDonald’s there?”  “I don’t know, Allan!  Just stop so we can meet up, for cryin’ out loud!”  It’s 5:30 in the morning and Allan’s got me hollerin’ at him.  In previous fun runs it’s always been either he’s late and he wants the group to wait, or he forgot that the run was that day and we shouldn’t wait for him when we’ve already been waiting.  This time he proceeds ahead of the group – hay nako Allan!

We see him at the station in his brand spankin’ new Fortuner from which he alights accompanied by his charming wife Libby and their friend Jonathan.  The school kids were having such a great time in the school bus that they completely miss the stop and radio us that we’d just meet up further down the route.  Chito and Allan’s party grab a quick breakfast at the Burger King and Allan relates that he and Libby haven’t been up to Baguio in nearly 10 years and he’s not quite sure of the way.  Chito assures him that the route is relatively simple and to just follow closely and they’d be alright.  Meals are finished or put away and we head on out again.  A short while after we pass the San Fernando on-ramp, the gray Miata of Dale joins our little convoy, Allan’s is the last car.

We stop at Tarlac, Tarlac where the school kids have stopped to have breakfast at the Jollibee in Luisita Mall. 

 Because Allan has yet to show up, a discussion comes up on whether Allan made the U-turn at the junction of Concepcion or whether he went straight ahead.  If he didn’t make that U-turn and went straight ahead he would be headed for the southbound expressway and he’d be on his way back to Manila.  Jojo phones him and asks him if he made the U-turn.  Turns out that they fell behind as they had to stop for a bathroom break and that they failed to make the U-turn, Jojo tells him that on his present course he’s headed south going back to Manila.  The guy’s already in Mabalacat, and any further and he’d soon be southbound on the expressway.  Great!  Allan got lost!  Now, he asks us to wait for him.  This, from a guy who absolutely beams with pride every time he demonstrates the compass in his high-tech wristwatch. And now, not only does he have a compass on his wristwatch, he also has a compass on the dashboard of his new car!  Jojo is in a quandary as he declares that he might have to go ahead since he has a meeting to attend up at Baguio, but we tell him it’s alright and that we’d wait for Allan.  After about 20 minutes, Allan calls and says he’s approaching Luisita, we head on to the cars and start off and tell him to speed up and just catch up with the convoy.  We’re done waiting for him, even if he’s not right behind us, at least now he’s headed northbound instead of southbound looking for Baguio.

We get to the foot of the mountain going up Baguio where we catch up with Jojo and took the opportunity to re-group at the gas station there.  Just before heading on up to Marcos Highway Allan asks over the radio (again with the tone), “Are we going to pass the big stone lion?”, “No Allan, that’s Kennon Road.  There’s no lion where we’re passing.”  “How about the big bust of Marcos on the side of the mountain?  Are we going to see that?”  “No Allan, that’s much further up and we’re not going that far.”  Ang kulit!  I’m just waiting for him to ask the all-time-favorite kid-on-a-road trip question: “Are we there yet?”

Going up the mountain on Marcos Highway, Carlo and I are moving at a fast clip.  Carlo’s car is wearing his “track day set-up” of Bridgestone intermediate race tires on GT3 wheels.  On the expressway the tires were very loud making a droning sound much like truck tires do.  On the country roads, the tires were a little harsh going over the rough patches.  But here on the concrete twisties of Marcos Highway, these tires positively made us feel invincible! 

After haulin’ butt for a considerable time up the mountain, Carlo and I surmise that we should stop at the top of the mountain to wait for the school bus and the rest because we’d been going so fast. Near the top of the mountain Carlo slows down and takes a swig of his drink that he’d gotten at the last stop.  Just as he capped off his drink on a downhill portion of road …WHOOOOOSH!!! – the school bus passes us as if we were standing still, cutting into the opposing lane, carving racing lines despite oncoming traffic, demonstrating stability despite lots of chassis roll with the rear end lifting as it braked hard and dove as it made a sharp apex to avoid an oncoming truck.  The school bus is being driven by someone with lots of track time!  But that was the last of the downhill portions and now with the uphill grades becoming steeper, we effortlessly pass the school bus and I button down my window, stick out my hand and waved bye-bye to them.

In the school-bus, Keith has his foot planted firmly on the gas pedal and is caving in the floor-board behind it.  In the uphill portions, his speed and rpm’s radically decline despite the application of full throttle.  Alfie mimics the Irish character, Scotty, the engineer on the Enterprise on Star Trek, “I’m givin’ her all she’s got Captain!”  The kids consider throwing out the golf bags with the clubs to lighten the load and radio Allan to pick ‘em up as he runs into ‘em.

I don’t know if Alfie has pictures but this is the scene in the school bus:  Keith is driving, Alfie’s riding shotgun, JR has the entire middle bench to himself, the rear bench is occupied by Nomer, curled up and hugging a pillow, and Zaffy’s in the same bench, reclined with the jump seat in front of him as his foot stool.  So while Keith is carving up the roads with his driving, the kids in back with all that room in the bus are bouncing off interior panels and each other.

Arrival at Baguio

We arrive at the country club and get our room and cottage assignments:  the kids riding the bus take the cottage while the rest of us are in rooms at the main building, and Allan’s party are in their own house a few minutes away.  Alfie, ever the gourmand, suggests that we have lunch at Li’l Johns at the commissary in John Hay.  As we’re chowin’ down the baby back ribs, everybody, myself included, is cracking jokes about Allan’s remarkable sense of direction.  However, I’m thinking that I’m lucky that I’m not driving because I most probably would have gotten lost too, because like Allan I’m also rather challenged by a poor sense of direction –  I’m the guy that’s been known to go the wrong way on a race track!

A bit later, Allan and his party arrive and join us for lunch.  The golfers:  Jojo, Chito, Keith and JR discuss their golf plans for the afternoon.  Without having talked about it, it’s generally acknowledged that we’ve got the assignment of preparing for the events for the evening.  After lunch we disband with the golfers heading out for golf, the Allan team going back to their house and the rest of us to shop for supplies.  Keith gives us the keys to the school bus and with Carlo at the wheel of the bus, we head to the liquor and general merchandise store at the top of Session Road.  Decisions, decisions, should I get one case or two cases of beer?  Better to have a surplus than a deficit!  Even without a pretty girl named Roma pushing beer on me, I get two cases of beer, Alfie gets two bottles of rhum and condensed milk for his recipe of “Mangler’s”, Zaffy gets an assortment of chips, hotdogs, dip, and marshmallows for toasting on the fire.  We head back, load up the fridge and retire for the rest of the afternoon.

As evening rolls around, Carlo and I head for the cottage and watch videos of American rice boy events, mostly just paying attention to the bikini girl show segments.  The golfers finally arrive and Jojo inquires if we’re satisfied with our accommodations and asks who’s on the second floor of the main clubhouse, Chito, Carlo and I say that we are.  Then Jojo proceeds to talk about “mu-mu” (ghosts) and immediately I cut him off saying “we’re not having any of those stories on this trip!”  Although a rough and tumble guy like me has no worries about fictionalized stories of that nature, not everyone is comfortable with them, and I certainly didn’t want anyone else having the discomfort of not being able to sleep because of silly ghost stories.  Ghosts on the second floor of Baguio Country Club, my foot.

Our party of 9 then piles into the school bus and heads out for dinner at a Mongolian restaurant called “O Mai Khan”.  Keith pulls his best Schumacher moves on Baguio’s curvy roads but with 9 guys in the van we’re in tighter and snugger than being in a Recaro racing seat.

At the restaurant just about everyone goes for second servings.  And afterwards the discussion becomes a mini-tech session where the original guru, Alfie, is asking me about Spal fans and other stuff – I give Carlo a nudge and a wink – check it out, the great Alfie asking me tech questions!

After dinner we head back to the country club and Jojo hosts for drinks at the bar in the main building where we assemble at a very long table where we’re joined by Allan’s party a bit later.  The golfers are dead pooped not having had any rest since they got up that morning, and also, the rest of us were still generally still tired from the drive up.  Not only was I tired, but I was now worrying about all the alcohol that we’ve got.  I’ve gotten two cases of beer, Alfie’s going to be making his rhum based “Mangler’s”, none of which we’re touching that evening since Jojo’s hosted us at the bar, and now Allan and Libby are talking about making Margarita’s for us on Saturday evening which they’ve prepared for and brought up all the supplies including a blender.  “This is a logistical alcoholic overload catastrophe just waiting to happen.  I’m going to be dead-pukin’-drunk tomorrow night.” I dreadfully thought to myself.  It’s like witnessing a train wreck that’s about to happen but you can’t do anything about it.

We retire at around 11pm which is a relatively early hour.

Day 2: At Baguio

I awake at around 6:30am, Saturday, greeted by the sound of the Carlo Ablaza biological cold air induction system going at full throttle.  Leisurely, I gather my thoughts and prepare myself for breakfast.  Without having agreed upon it, the group meets up again at 8 in the morning down at the veranda for the breakfast buffet.  The golfers again prepare for golf and Carlo asks, “what’re we going to do?” “Mag top-down-top-down tayo!” I respond.

Dale and Alfie in Dale’s showroom shiny gray Miata and Carlo and myself in his silver car but occasionally Alfie and I traded seats since I wanted to try the ride on the oh-so-expensive Aragosta coilover suspension system on Dale’s car. 

We drive around the city where we see the Allan party on the street in the Fortuner headed for the market.  Baguio is just absolutely so much fun in a Miata with the top down.  We drive through all the traditional sites in the city and around John Hay and around the PMA grounds, it felt like we could do that all day and not get tired of it at all.  I’m in the passenger’s seat snapping pictures and experimenting with different camera angles.

Lunch at the commissary and again more driving around and sightseeing in the afternoon with the school bus in tow.  Like Allan, Nomer tells us that he hasn’t been up to Baguio for ages and Zaffy and Alfie tell him all about the usual sights that he has to see like Mine’s View Park, the Good Shepherd Convent where local delicacies are bought and the pony ride that is an absolutely indispensable activity that he must engage in at Wright Park.

Evening of Day 2

In the mid-afternoon we retire for a nap, which I am positively incapable of, never could take those.  So I just watch tv, seriously trying to rest up, since I knew that there would be major amounts of alcohol to be put away that evening.  We meet up with the rest of the crew at around 6:30pm and the nine of us again pile into the school bus to have dinner at a Chinese place.  As we get onto Session Road, observations are made on the congestion of the place.  Jojo says he hasn’t been on Session Road in the longest time.  “But Jojo…” somebody says, “you’re up here in Baguio all the time.”  “Yes, but I only spend my time up here at the country club.”

We proceed to look for the Chinese restaurant and a story is related about another restaurant which they had gone to in the past on the recommendation of Santy, who curiously enough joins just about all the fun runs but this time is absent.  The distinguishing feature of this restaurant that Santy recommended was that it had lots of parking, consequently the meal that they had was forever etched into their minds as one of the most horrible meals they’d ever had.  No wonder it had lots of parking – nobody goes there!  Finally, we find the Chinese restaurant and without looking at the menu, Keith asks, “may pata-tim kayo?” “yes sir.” “Pata Tim!” Keith positively declares as the central dish of the main course, he then proceeds to order up a flurry of other dishes.  Allan’s party arrives just as the food also begins to arrive at the table and we make room for them.

One of the stories that’s related at the table is Allan’s near acquisition of a plasma TV in Singapore.  He was looking at a fancy plasma TV and calculated it’s price in Philippine Pesos at around PhP148,000.00, a price which he calculated he could afford.  He asks for assistance and the saleslady indulges all his inquiries and was very accommodating with him.  He initiates inquiries with forwarders regarding freight charges to Manila and continues to make calculations which consistently come out to the original “affordable” price he calculated and cannot believe his luck on this highly extravagant piece of modern technology.  I always wondered why we pay Porsche prices for Mazda parts, now I know – 3 thousand dollars for a TV is “affordable” for this kid!  On the day he finally decides to make the purchase he makes one final calculation at the store, just to make sure - and it comes out to PhP1.48M.  He is devastated and wonders how he could have made the same mistake over and over again, so many times.  Reminder to self: ALWAYS DOUBLE, TRIPLE AND QUADRUPLE check my bills on the Miata stuff I’ve bought at Allan’s store (just kidding Allan!).

Another story is one that was surprisingly told by Jojo regarding the intake of tofu, which some of the dishes on our table were peppered with.  According to Jojo tofu when ingested by females makes ‘em…and he makes a cupping gesture with his hands without saying a word.  To continue his sentence, I say, “makes ‘em into 38”DD’s?  Jojo do you mean that with all these booby enlargement commercials on TV (my favorite commercials!) and the popularity of expensive silicone implants that it’s just a matter of eating tofu to increase bust size?”  He refuses to answer and he refuses to complete the sentence, merely preferring to make the cupping gesture with his hands.  The following day we even get him to repeat the gesture yet we’re unable to pry the words from his mouth.  But kidding aside, I think what Jojo meant was that tofu is an aphrodisiac.  At least that’s what I think he meant.  First time I’ve heard it.  But who knows?

After finishing the meal, I’m chatting with Allan as the kids pile into the bus while snapping pictures and I’m the last to try to get in.  “Get outta here!  There’s no more room for you!  Doon ka kay Allan!”  I comply and head on back over to Allan’s car.  Luckily, Allan’s just getting on the road and I’m able to catch a ride.  New car, new car smell, wow!  I can hardly even hear its diesel engine nor the vibration normally associated with diesel engines.  It felt like it had a good amount of power too and as we’re headed to their house to pick up the Margarita supplies we’re going up the steep uphill roads with plenty of torque.  It even feels stronger than a Miata.  Carlo, who works for Toyota will later tell me that it certainly is more powerful than a Miata and it will probably kick the Miata’s butt in just about everything but a sprint to 100kph because of its “variable vane turbocharger”, a turbocharger that can act like a small snailed turbo for a quick spool for boost at low rpm and like a big turbo for high rpm boost, essentially like having two turbochargers without the complexity of a twin turbo system, he explained.  My supercharged Miata is a dinosaur.

At Allan's house, the Lavarro couple assembles the Margarita supplies and I stand back and observe their process, chips and stuff are gathered and decisions are made by the couple on what to take, and what not to take.  A scene which gave me a brief but profound glimpse into married life.  Libby says, "let's not take your blender, we'll just use the shaker" - blender's tossed out of the bag.  "But let's take the blender's body so we can use it as a pitcher", Allan says - pitcher-half of the blender goes back in the bag.  Allan says, "let's not take these Margarita glasses anymore and we'll just use the Styrofoam cups" - plastic Margarita glasses get tossed out of the bag.  "Oh, and there're more chips and stuff upstairs, I'll go get 'em."  Allan disappears up the steps and while he's up there, Libby gathers up the Margarita glasses which have been set aside by Allan and with her low voice dripping with toughness and resolve, this little girl who's just a touch over five foot tall declares, "I brought these Margarita glasses all the way up the mountain and we're darned sure not gonna leave them in this house.  We're going to take them with us and we're going to use them!" - Margarita glasses go back in the bag.  We load up the supplies in the car and get back on the road.  As we're pulling out Libby goes to Allan, "your blender's just too darned noisy."  A puzzled thought enters my mind, and I think to myself they're a couple right?  And everything should be “ours”, right?  But there's a "his" blender?  Consequently, there must be a "hers" blender.  His and hers blenders - interesting concept, I think to myself and briefly run my thoughts through my legal education on the law of Persons and Family Relations, more particularly the different property regimes in marriage…

Back at the kids’ cottage, Alfie’s busy preparing his “Mangler’s”, a mix of rhum, condensed milk and … that’s all I know … but it’s supposed to taste like a better version of Bailey’s Irish Cream liquor.  I didn’t even get a swig of a Mangler.  The Lavarro couple declares that “the bottle of Tequila has to be finished!”  Chito and I exchange knowing glances about the massive hangover we’re facing the following day.  Margarita’s chased down by beer, an outstanding and foolproof recipe for a splitting headache the following day.  Best that we avoid the Mangler, perhaps leaving that out will somehow mitigate tomorrow’s hangover, Alfie will understand.  Well, I’ve had hangovers before and this isn’t the last time I’m going to have it, and we absolutely cannot disappoint this lovely couple, who are such dear friends, especially since they’ve made such a special effort, and most especially after the strength and resolve that Libby had demonstrated with the Margarita glasses.

Keith is busy cranking up the fire at the fireplace and I comment, “Hey!  A regular boy scout!”  Keith corrects me and says, “I was a senior scout, not a boy scout”.  Heck, I don’t even know that there was such a term as “senior scout”, the furthest I got was cub-scout and that was all two days of it after which I quit after learning that we had to sleep outdoors. 

The Lavarro couple has brought with them a “Margarita Kit”, a commercially prepared mix of salts on which they dip each glasses’ rim which has been primed by lemon juice.  Upon seeing the Lavarro’s paraphernalia Carlo exclaims, “Hey, a Maragarita kit!  Mary Ann (his girlfriend) loves Margarita’s!”  Why is it that girls love tequila and Margarita’s?

And so the train wreck is under way and I’m sipping from my brought-all-the-way-from-Manila-by-Libby-Margarita-glass and chasing it down with beers.  Keith is telling us about all his other hobbies like HO train sets, guns, watches and whatnot.  Twice, I think, Jojo tried to excuse himself but the group wouldn’t hear any of it.  The guys are experimenting with different kinds of pulutan and I’m used to sisig and kinilaw in that respect but these guys were experimenting with combinations of toasted marshmallows and chocolate chip cookies along with their Manglers.  Although it looked like a lot of fun, I’m really at a loss for words on how they come up with that as a good combination with alcoholic beverages.

We also had an award presentation ceremony where Chito cheerfully presented Jojo with his golf winnings for the day – all twenty pesos of it.  Notwithstanding, Jojo proudly accepts the bounty of his victorious efforts.  Apparently, they had bets on the holes they’d been playing and all throughout Jojo just managed to win 20 pesos from Chito.  This probably speaks of the relatively close golf skills of the two gentlemen.  The team-ups were Chito and JR against Jojo and Keith.

… and that’s as far as I remember, see what I mean about tequila?  I can’t even remember the rest of that evening!

I do remember walking back to the club’s main building and telling Carlo that we need water as an anti-hangover remedy – lot’s of water!  It was 4am and we ask for room service to bring up some water – bar’s closed, no water.  Groggily, we go down to the car and drive to the nearest gas station convenience store and I get 3, two-litre bottles of water.  Back at our room we ring up Chito in the next room to tell him we’ve got some water for him and he immediately gets it.  I drink as much of the water as I can and succeed in drinking ¾ of the 2 litre bottle until I feel like I’m drowning.  That should do it.  I lie on the bed and put my head down on the pillow and the room’s spinning.  I try to make it spin the other way around just to see if I can stop it – no use, just …. zzzzzzzzzzzzz.. 

Thank you Allan and Libby!  Please don’t get the wrong impression.  I had a great time and the company was absolutely wonderful!   If only there was a way of absolutely avoiding these hangovers.

Day 3: The Return Trip

I awake at about 9:15am the following day, Sunday.  As I open my eyes I try to determine the extent of the damage to my brain cells that the previous night has wreaked.  Not that much of headache, I feel woozy, but I’ve been worse – far worse!  The water worked!

I get showered and cleaned up for breakfast and finish as Carlo wakes.  Likewise, he doesn’t have much of a hangover and we determine that we’re fit to drive home today and we don’t have to implement our alternative plan of staying over one extra day in case the hangover is too bad.  He puts on some clothes and we go down to the veranda to catch the last call of the breakfast buffet.  The only other guys left at the table were Chito and Jojo since the rest have been at the table since 8am and they’re fixing up our group’s bill.  Carlo and I were the last to get up this morning.  After everything was said and done, Chito and Jojo give us an assembly time of 10:45am at the cottage.  I give Allan a call and tell him of our departure plans and I ask if they’ll be alright by themselves, he answers in the affirmative.

At the assembly time, just before the trip down, Carlo adjusts pressures on his race tires to try to get a more comfortable ride from them.  We snap a few photos and some light banter and we’re off down the mountain.  Jojo is lead car and he is moving at a fast clip.  I understand Jojo’s intentions, the trip down is much faster and he’s going to make use of the car’s handling advantage downhill where not much power is required.  He is passing cars at a fast rate and there are times that we loose sight of him and only catch up when he runs up on a slower vehicle that he has a hard time passing.  Carlo is driving aggressively, yet conservatively at around 7/10ths of his capability.  Jojo, on the other hand, looks like he’s working his car’s suspension and tire grip for all they’re worth and there are times when he’s taking fast sweepers and his car’s body roll is at a 35 degree angle.  Racing on the street class of the Miata Cup has certainly improved Jojo’s skills as a driver.  I tell him later about the roll angles that he was encountering and he’s surprised at my observation inasmuch as he doesn’t even feel those roll angles while he’s in the car, suggesting that he’s perfectly comfortable with such roll angles.  Because of the aggressive driving, there is no radio communication from the Miata’s all the way down the mountain and the Vitarra and the school bus are now too far back to be seen.  But we do have a standing agreement to meet at the Caltex station down at the foot of the mountain.

At the foot of the mountain we’re joined by the Vitarra and the school bus in a matter of minutes.  We go for bathroom breaks and Jojo also takes a cigarette break.  We decide to eat at “Isdaan” at Tarlac, Tarlac.  “Isdaan” is a big outdoor restaurant that almost looks like a theme park and it’s 2 hours away.

When we take off the school bus is burning rubber, and soon leaves us behind, but the kids are still within radio range.  When we arrive at Isdaan in Tarlac I told Alfie, “you guys were haulin’!”  Alfie retorts, “we’re late for school!”  Isdaan is a very interesting restaurant. 

It’s like they built a seaside resort inland.  It seems like the entirety of the place is like one big fishpond filled with carp and the separately roofed tables are floating on bamboo rafts.  They have this area with a game where for a fee, you get to throw dishes at a target to vent anger or frustration and they call it “Taksyapu!” which is a Kapampangan cuss word.  The best part was our attractive waitress, Jen, and when she appeared Chito’s face immediately lit up.

As we order we’re also chatting up Jen with smooth-operator-Chito doing the talking, on matters like, how long the restaurant’s been open; how long is the restaurant’s operating hours; how many shifts there are; which shift she’s in; and how can we contact the restaurant for reservations, what’s the phone number to contact; which is the best way to get a reservation, to contact the restaurant or her personally, and…and Chito turns to me and with a wicked smile on his face, mischievously asks, “ituloy ko pa ba?”  I witness a master at work!  I truly am not worthy!  I hope that Chito sends or posts some pics of Jen on here.  Nomer, who’s generally been quiet on this trip chuckles and says, “ginawa nyong GRO yung waitress”.  Also, just after the entrance to the restaurant Carlo spots a child swing and tells me, “look Joey a seat just for Manong!  Too bad he’s not with us.”  At the table, President Jojo gets the assistant manager and asks that the brightly colored child swing be briefly put beside our table for photographs which would be entitled “Manong, wish you were here!  Saving a seat for you!”  Hey Manong!

At the table I ask Keith, who’d been drinking beers the past couple of nights, if his gout had been remedied considering the beer and licentious and indulgent food we’d been having over the weekend.  He says the beers weren’t much of a problem, it was the bean sprouts and tofu that we had Friday night at the Mongolian grille that almost gave him a gout attack Saturday morning and he gave it a counter attack of massive amounts of water much like my anti-hangover remedy.  This he’s telling me while he’s chomping down on roasted peanuts – another surefire gout stimulant.  And after I finish with my buko juice he goes, “tapos ka na ba jan?  Gusto ko yung laman eh!”  “But Keith, ‘di ba nut din yan?  It’s a coconut.  And therefore nakaka-gout din yan.”  “Hindi totoo yan!” he goes, as he proceeds to carve into the coconut meat and enjoys it.  I admire this man’s resolve in the face of a painful and debilitating ailment.

As we finish up our meal, Jojo shares his idea for a solution to avoid delays caused by run participants getting lost.  For the next Baguio trip, he’ll be handing out very simple and easy-to-read maps which will include landmarks and their description, and such maps should then be “Allan-proof”!  We all applaud the idea.  Especially me, since as I said I’m not too far from Allan when it comes to matters of direction.  It’s a good thing the term coined is “Allan-proof” and not “JoeyB-proof”!

We finish our meal and get back on the road.  On this final leg of the trip we have lots of radio communication.  Jojo proclaims that he can get 10 kms/litre on his stock normally aspirated car on a race day at the Batangas Racing Circuit inclusive of the trips to and from the track.  A genuinely good figure considering that he’s going full throttle for most of the day on a race day.  All generally agree that the Miata gets good gas mileage so long as it’s out on the open road.  Then, Jojo asks Chito to check out his car’s tail-pipe and asks if it was centered or off to one side. Jojo also observes the MazdaSpeed exhaust muffler on Carlo’s car in front of him and sees that it is rock steady as opposed to his which moves from side to side.  He complains that his muffler’s movement causes the exhaust tip to make contact with his plastic bumper leaving burn marks on it.  Jojo surmises that “it’s probably because of the high G-forces of racing that his muffler moves from side to side.”  I sarcastically make a comment over the air about the “high G-forces” that Jojo is able to generate with his car.  To which Alfie piles on it with another comedic remark.  I don’t know how Jojo took it – but we were just kidding Jojo! We all know you’re a great driver who can surely generate “high G-forces”.

Our next stop was the first gas station on the southbound direction of the north expressway.  This was two hours away from our lunch stop at Tarlac, Tarlac where I’d had a couple of beers, remnants of Saturday night, which Chito had stored in a cooler for the trip down, and smuggled into the restaurant.  Now those beers and the massive amounts of water which I was still taking to stave off the hangover were now killing me to get out of my bladder, threatening to make a mess in Carlo’s leather-lined interior.  It seems it wasn’t only me who needed the bathroom break, everyone else did and we were all lined up in the restroom.  Chito, again with a mischievous smile on his face, calls Jojo’s attention and says, “Jojo, about that muffler problem you have: you know you can just trim that plastic bumper and all your problems would be solved and it wouldn’t even take a few minutes.”  He’s chuckling, and so am I, but Jojo just ignores our little joke.

At this point the kids are back in the freshly fueled school bus and they’ve brought the bus to where we’re parked.  Alfie buttons down his window as they approach and declares “6.75km/litre!”  and they all laugh at the rather thirsty consumption of the small diesel engine.  But then again, they’ve been doing some very aggressive driving.

And finally, it was time to bid farewell to our runmates to the now concluded annual Miata Club Baguio Run for 2005.  We had a great time!  Thank you President Jojo and Chito for the accommodations at BCC and for your company.  Thank you school-bus boys!  Thanks for the ride and the company Carlo!  Thank you Allan and Libby!  Let’s do it all again soon to another destination!

Joey Bernardez
Manila
24 October 2005

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