Tuesday. I wake up feeling *really* groggy and out of it. We grab a breakfast at the hotel and take off on the first, very short stage. It is a 22.9 mile segment from Sydney to Louisburg. We have 30 minutes to cover it and morning 'rush hour' traffic in Sydney slows our exit from this small urban outpost in rural Cape Breton Island. Dad is driving and kind of freaks out and drives pretty fast, even though I assure him that we are doing well. I'm feeling the jet-lag and not too awake, but thankfully the navigation is pretty straightforward. We arrive at the checkpoint with enough time to spare to get ourselves situated with me at the wheel... ready to finish this leg, and immediately check out for the next... a 116.5 mile run back to the Canso Causeway. Somehow I got my timing off and arrived one second early. "D'oh!" I feel like a moron. I have blown our chance of winning. The checkpoint I missed. Grrrrr. I drive the next leg... a long one... long enough for me to mentally beat myself up for my error. Dad did nothing wrong, giving me an accurate countdown, I just accelerated too soon and blew the checkpoint. Given the good weather and pretty easy nature of this rally, combined with the competition, we will most likely not recover from even a one second error. There is one guy here who apparently practices in his driveway for weeks beforehand, and has won 6 of the 8 Vintage Rallies he has run... thankfully he drives a newer Ferrari, so can not run in all that we do. He won the Forza Amelia last spring, and will most likely win this one too. Especially now that we have flubbed. Oh well. In the past we have always been penalized by the actions of others... cutting us off from the checkpoint, either being late, or early, and nudging us out of the way. This is the first time since our very first rally that we have just screwed up and missed a zero by our own actions. I am very disappointed with myself... and drive the next leg without saying much. Dad takes it pretty well, and thankfully doesn't show any real disappointment with me. The segment ends at the causeway back to the mainland. We arrive with *plenty* of time, and take the opportunity to fill up the Cruise Missile with some gasoline. Our time arrives and we zero out in what we think is a saving grace for a bad day. The driving is great, we are just bummed from accumulating some penalty time earlier. The night before we were joined at dinner by two journalists, Kate MacLeod and Martha Thomas, and we had agreed to allow them to drive our car today. We switch after they finish their run through the checkpoint, and I drive their (loaner from Mercedes) 2001 SL600 V-12. The thing is like driving a high-tech living room. It accelerates like a bat out of hell, and handles pretty good, but it is not much of a 'driver'... no visceral satisfaction whatsoever. I prefer the wind in my (admittedly thin) hair, and the rumble of a powerful drivetrain propelling me forward, thanks. It has a price tag around what I paid for my first house... but has *no* chance of appreciating in value like it did. The 37 mile run takes us to lunch at the Chedabutco Bay Brewery in Guysborough. I have a great lunch, with a nice Porter, out on th scenic deck... Above: The Chedabutco Bay Brewery in Guysborough N.S., site of our lunch. The whole town meanwhile is out front enjoying an impromptu concourse. We heard later that some moms took their kids out of school to come see the cars! Cool Moms in Guysborough. =) Below: Robert Stockman's 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB/4.... I'm not really a 'Ferrari guy' but I have to admit that this thing is an object of lust. Below: Dad test driving the SL600 V-12. For the next leg, a 103 mile transit to Sheet Harbor, Dad gets his turn to test drive the SL600 while I navigate for Martha Thomas who is test driving the Cruise Missile.   At Sheet harbor we trade back for our usual partners and cars for the 75.3 mile trip into Halifax. What awaits us is a shocker... for which you will have to wait until tomorrow... Go to the Next page: Wednesday. --chuck