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Sunday, Sept. 14, 2003 As a competitor in last year's inaugural Targa Newfoundland, I am considered a "pioneer". Those who followed last year's event may recall that there were 35 entries. This year the count is more like 60, and over a third are among the pioneers. That's a damn good return rate! There is good reason for it... Targa Newfoundland is one great event! Word of the success of TN's first year has spread among automotive adventurers across North America, and elsewhere, and they don't want to miss out again.
Australian Ralph Grant is entered again, though this time it's in his own Volvo 142. Canadian Jodie Shay is Grant's co-driver. Bill Arnold won the Modern class in his BMW M Coupe in 2002, but he's back in a 1972 BMW Bavaria sedan in the Classic division, though the powerplant is a much newer "M" six cylinder. Jeremy Hill and Lennox McNeely return in Len's 1965 Ford Mustang Fastback, hoping to better their runner-up finish of last year.
Today's action consisted of the Demonstration, a nearly 2 km blast around the Confederation Building in St. John's. It begins with a parade of the competing cars from Mile One Stadium in downtown to the complex of government buildings up on the hill. After a couple of parade practice laps to familiarize competitors with the course, they hit the track individually. The idea is for the event stewards to get an idea of driver ability... or lack thereof. Despite a few spins and some mechanical failures, there were no big incidents. Action really begins on Monday with the Prologue stages. Results on these two stages will help organizers seed the drivers based on their ability. The first is 4.62 km, the second 7.06 km. In between is a two hour lunch break at Beachy Cove School.
We Got Screeched! There is a tradition in Newfoundland to welcome visitors. It involves a sharp tasting rum called Screech, kissing a cod fish, and reciting a phrase in your best attempt at a Newfie dialect. Following the Sunday evening dinner, Captain Merle showed up to tell a few stories about life in Newfoundland, and to baptize those "not from around here". We kissed the cod (in this case, a slice of salt cod), gulped the Screech, and did our best recitation, and Captain Merle passed among the throng with oar in hand, tapping the newly-Newf-ed on the shoulder.
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