7:44 - No sooner had we begun to make slow progress in the carpool lane than it too became part of the perpetual gridlock that is Southern California during rush hour. Brake lights shone in our faces and the sound of the big Stoptechs grinding down speed threatened to poop on our plans of victory.
7:47 - The airport rush is on. Laptop case slung over one shoulder, camera on the other and an overnight duffle flailing behind me, I rush for the automated check-in kiosk. Without the carry-on luggage and e-ticket, this would have been a completely lost cause. Thirty seconds and the boarding card's in hand and I'm now racing on foot for the security screening line. I have an hour to get through, get drunk and get boarded.
7:50 - The traffic is incessant. But we have another trick up our sleeve. A Fastrak pass, which allows us access into a special coned-off lane for the privileged and informed. Somehow only 5 percent of Southern California's population has discovered this little gem. With a triumphant whoosh from the engine bay, we rocket past commuter faces parked in the morning monotony.
7:50 - The running comes to an abrupt halt when I see over 50 people in the triple winding line in front of the TSA screeners. The wait gets unbearable quickly as the suffocating conversations of couples, kids, travelers and business men yapping on cell phones make me start to wonder if driving the 290 miles wasn't the less painful way.
I finally reach the end of the shuffling winding mass, and already have a shoe off, when the airport worker at the back of the line announces the security line at Terminal 1 has no line and takes only two minutes to walk to. Great.
7:55 - More potential trouble. A hairline crack develops in the windshield, right in the path of Steve's vision. Just as we're commenting that it doesn't appear to be too severe, it juts ten inches across the windshield. This could be a problem. Fingers crossed, we trudge on.
8:02 - Every time I have to walk shoeless through the baggage check, I find myself wondering how often the airport bothers to spray down these areas. I feel safer from athlete's foot renting shoes from a bowling alley. It's probably better that I don't ask.
8:03 - Do you ever wonder if truckers talk to each other in effort to clog the road and rain on your parade? They do. And they think it's just hilarious. And like a bully in high school, there's nothing you can do about it because they are much, much bigger than you. We wait out the torture and finally pass them with an extra special wave goodbye.
8:45 - We hit our first coned-off section of road but we're happy to find that, in the light traffic into the desert, it doesn't seem to affect anything. The masses simply file into one lane and trundle on.
9:00 - The flight attendants are making their final checks as our 727 pushes back from Gate 1, on time, towards the southern end of the runway. I'm barely able to stay awake long enough to hear the engines roar for take-off. Vegas is just 290 miles and an hour and five minutes away.
9:15 - I'm actually impressed with the Skyline's civility. Despite the fact that the car is equipped with a full rollcage and coilovers, and has virtually no interior, it's actually cozy in here. The automatic climate control does nothing to affect the charging RB26 and the R12 refrigerant keeps us as cold as penguins despite the blazing desert sun. I'm starting to wonder if it was the guy over-head in the aluminum sardine-can who's getting the plush treatment. I might just have a little nap.