June 01st, 2006 Day 1

Car: Spyker C8 Spyder
Co-Driver: Victor Muller, CEO Spyker Cars
Top Speed: 162 mph
Cop Stops: 2; 1 ticket for speeding 97 in a 65 (This one was mine. I could have bought a new pair of YSL stiletto boots for what this cost me, but it was well worth it!), 1 warning for improper display of license plates (we had UK plates).

FIRE UP YOUR ENGINES
I said if there is one car I want to drive it is the Spyker (www.spykercars.com). So when I am partnered up with Victor Muller, CEO of Spyker Cars, I can’t wait to get started. It is like New Years Eve in July. Times Square is closed off, the place is buzzing with a crowd of excited people and although it is 8:00 in the morning I suspect some people are still a bit drunk from the party the night before at Marquee. This crowd is probably a bit noisier however. When you have 100 cars lined up end to end and all the engines fire up at once, well, screaming teens from New Jersey hoping to catch a glimpse of Justin Timberlake in TRL studios aren’t even that loud. We are on the front line in between Corey Feldman in a Silver Lotus Elise and a silver Mosler. When the flag drops we are led off the grid by the one and only Mario Andretti driving a black Panoz. You don’t get better than that.

NAVIGATION BY ANDRETTI
We take off racing the streets of New York and the adrenaline is pumping. We get the route card and I look for the GPS to dial it in. The dash in the Spyker, a combination of the finest buttery leather and brushed steel, is perhaps the most gorgeous I’ve ever seen. Only today it’s missing one crucial component, a GPS. There is also no map or radar. We decide to make Mario our GPS, and given that we’re heading to the Poconos Raceway in Pennsylvania we should be all set. We go through a tunnel and the Sypker, a Ford GT and suped-up Studebaker all rev at once. I get chills.

AND THEN THE RAIN CAME
It’s an ideal driving situation--cruising down the highway, top down, in the most stunning car on the road, right behind Mario Andretti. Both Victor and I love cars; we’re purists, we’re fanatics, we’re idiots. When the sky turns ash gray and drops begin to fall, most people would pull to the side and put the top on. When this happened neither one of us said anything. We thought that sheer will and our love of driving sans roof would simply make the weather go away. It didn’t. Instead, the sky opened up and we had ourselves an unsolicited shower. Once drenched there was nothing to do but to pull over. It might have had something to do with the fact that we couldn’t even see the road anymore. I opened the door, swung out my leg, and my best pair of Gucci stiletto boots were met with a deep puddle of mud. We manage to get the top on and once inside, soaking wet from Gucci boots to Prada sunglasses, there was nothing to do but to laugh.

THE DAY’S CASUALTIES
We finally make it to the Poconos racetrack, albeit soaking wet. There we get to act like real racecar drivers and drive a lap around the track before stopping for a quick lunch. We manage to dry off before getting on the road again for the journey to Toronto. Although it is the first leg of Bullrun, it is a long one, and not without casualties. We lost two Lambos and one person ended up in jail at the Canadian border (rumors seemed to say it wasn’t due to Bullrun antics). A few people stayed on the US side of the border due to “issues”. The Mosler ran out of gas on the highway, but before you go judging, the car was new and driver claimed the gauge was off. A cop stopped and instead of simply helping him get gas the cop actually gave him a police escort...at 120 mph. Mr. Policeman, wherever you are, you get our coveted Bullrun Kickass Cop Award—congrats and keep up the good work!

June 02nd, 2006 Day 2

Car: Yellow Audi
Co-Drivers: Stefan Johannson, former Ferrari Formula One driver; Malik Ado-Ibrahim, former Formula One team owner.
Top Speed: 160 mph
Cop Stops: 1, because the car had manufacturer plates.

ALL THAT JAZZ
I was very excited to drive with both a Formula One driver and a Formula One team owner. I figured we’d dart in between cars at high speeds, which would result in some insane stories for Day 2’s entry. I slip in the backseat and hold on for dear life. Malik turns on the radio, “the soft sounds of smooth jazz”, as we turn gently on to the highway. We head off to the casino at Windsor on the border for lunch. The drive is uneventful but as we pull in the driveway there are swarms of people waiting for autographs. The masses can’t wait to get their picture taken with Stefan and I am even asked for my autograph; famous by association I guess. We have a quick lunch and then it’s back to our cars for the dash to the border. In Bullrun style we thankfully get a police escort otherwise it would have taken us hours to get through. Again we seemed like celebrities, which is good for me considering I don’t have either my license (my wallet was stolen days before leaving) or my passport (it was currently with the Russian Embassy in New York awaiting a visa). But we’re Bullrunners so they just wave us through.

THE RIGHT WRONG TURN
Malik makes a wrong turn and now we need to take a detour onto a longer highway. It turns out that word of the rally catches on and now all the cops in the area are looking to pull over Bullrunners. However, because of our wrong turn we’re now on a different highway than everyone else and we simply sail right through. That is until we see the flashing red and blue behind us. The cop ran our plates and thought that the car was not registered.

Malik tells him that the car is given to us by Audi. The cop seems perplexed that Audi would simply give them a car and Malik responds shyly that they are celebrities. Once the cop checks out their identification and realizes who they are he lets us continue on our way. But not before telling us that we made his day. Glad we could help out. We continue to cruise along at a comfortable average speed of about 100 mph. We pull into the House of Blues Hotel in Chicago and miraculously we come in 6th! It just shows you that sometimes a little slow jazz wins the race after all.

June 03rd, 2006 Day 3

Car: Black Mercedes-Benz CLS 55, Brabus K8
Co-Drivers: Claus Ettensberger, President and CEO of Brabus Corp of USA (brabus.com); Karl Funke, Senior Editor European Car (Europeancarweb.com)
Top Speed: 180 mph
Cop Stops: 2; both speeding tickets for Karl, 20 minutes apart.

DO NOT EAT THE APPLES!
We begin the morning with breakfast at Lake Forest Sports Cars. The Cuban Brothers put on a performance warming up the crowd with some morning calisthenics. Right before I get in the car a man tells me that under no circumstances should I eat the green apples lying in the center console and for god’s sake to make sure that I do not bring any bananas in the car. I am the guest so I simply nod in agreement. Apparently the day before they didn’t get any tickets and so they seemed to associate this with the fruit. We take off with Claus darting in and out of cars at speeds around 140 mph. This is what I had thought yesterday would be like. I’m more of a supercar kind of gal but the Mercedes is so agile and smooth that even at 180 mph I am sleeping like a kitten in the back.

CLAUS THE CAT
Claus pushes the limits of the Merc and it responds perfectly but when we stop for fuel he hands the reins over to Karl. Within minutes Karl gets his first ticket. All of a sudden there is a knock on the window. A journalist had heard over the radio that we got pulled over and came directly to the scene get the story, but the cop shoos her away quickly. We get on our way and about 20 minutes later poor Karl is stopped again. Two tickets in 20 minutes, not good. Claus takes one green apple and hands me the other. We eat them with pleasure and throw the cores out the window as our calling card. Our lunch stop is at the TK BEER FACTORY in TK CITY. We make it to the factory and in order to get the route card we’re supposed to take a tour. We’re in a rush so instead we jump back in the car and call Stefan and Malik who tell us that we’re going to the Intercontinental in Kansas City. Claus takes over the wheel again driving 150+. Another car calls us to tell us that they heard over the scanner that there was an APB out for a black Merc. But Claus makes it through with no tickets. This man has nine lives and always lands on his feet...he is Claus the Cat.

A BULLRUN FIRST
Other cars weren’t so lucky. The award for the best Bullrun ticket ever goes to the Audi Q7. Overheard on the scanner was a female cop who was just itching to nail the Q7 for something. She thought about giving them a ticket for not wearing their seatbelts but she couldn’t see through the tinted windows in the back to actually confirm the charge. They saw the cop car behind them and of course slowed to a crawl. So instead she gave them a ticket for “obstructing the flow of traffic”. In other words, they actually got a ticket for going too slow! A Bullrun first for sure. In other news, Annabelle Frankel gets taken into jail for going a few miles past 100.

June 04th, 2006 Day 4

Car: Mosler; Shelby Mustang
Co-Drivers: Troy Hanson; a blond actor, his mom and a rocker-looking photographer
Top speed: Not applicable
Cop stops: 0

HOT CARS AND MARRIAGE PROPOSALS
Each day I had managed to pick the best cars to drive in. I drove with all pro/semi pro drivers and was among the first to arrive. This day I am supposed to drive in the Taxi, but unfortunately it is among the car casualties. So I have to scramble a bit in the morning. I see Troy, a semi-pro driver, who’s driving the Mosler, most certainly the coolest looking car on the rally. He says yes quickly but points out that the AC isn’t working. It is the morning and the first stop isn’t far away so I accept the challenge. Not only doesn’t the AC work, but since it is a virtual racecar only a tiny portion of the window even opens to allow air in. Troy has one hand on the wheel and with the other holds the door partially open. He takes his shirt off and I contemplate doing the same as the car reaches a toasty 97 degrees and it isn’t even noon yet. Troy Hanson is the perfect racecar driver name (second perhaps only to Ricky Bobby) he’s handsome and he’s half-naked so as the flirtation ensued I decide to just go with it. It is just like your average first date, complete with lots of leading questions, except there is no food or alcohol and lots of sweating. Perhaps it is like a first date in the Sahara, in the middle of summer, if you were locked in a car with no air and the sun beating down. Driver Hanson seems to have lots of requirements for a girlfriend, he is almost as particular as I am. In the end he comes to the conclusion that we should get married. I accept and begin to plan our fabulous Moroccan wedding in the desert so we can reminisce about our first, and I suppose last, date.

DRAGGING IN THE HEAT
We stop at a drag strip in some mid-West city, they all begin to look the same after a while. I hop out while Driver Hanson takes the car on the drag strip for some press photos. The first thing I do is launch a reconnaissance mission to find a mechanic to fix the car. A few guys were hovering around a proper dragster and I zeroed in on their leader, a beefy midwesterner with a long blond mullet. He’s perfect! While Troy continues his 10-second passes in the heat I receive numerous offers for rides. I turn them down as I now feel committed to my husband-to-be and planning the Moroccan wedding of the year. (Checklist: call Vera Wang to make me a white caftan wedding dress, book a suite at La Mamouna for Patrick McMullan, find Moroccan rabbi). One by one each of the cars leave the drag strip until there are only 3 left--the Mosler, the Shelby Mustang “Safety Car” and the black Porsche. They had been traveling together the entire trip. Finally after everyone has left they decide to take a look at the car. So after driving and sweating in a hundred degree heat I now take a seat to sit in what has risen to 103 degrees for about two hours while they try to fix the car. I am not fairing well and a man comes over to me and asks me if I’m ok. I respond by saying no and I can feel that lightheadedness before you faint. He rushes over with what looks like anti-freeze but is actually Gatorade and puts a wet cloth around my neck. I drink the dyed sugar liquid and feel as if I’ve been brought back from the brink of death. After about two hours of working on the car they decide it’s beyond repair. Two hours of work in 103 degrees to no avail. I am switched out of the Mosler for a cameraman, Driver Hanson probably doesn’t want some fainting girl in his car and I don’t blame him. I am placed in the Mustang and I’m thankful for some cool air. One of the photographers, who looks like a rock groupie complete with two-tone hair, cut up jeans and a midriff bearing shirt, was left at the scene and now also has to be squeezed in the back with me. For the duration of the trip I travel with my knees butted up against the back on the seat, slightly keeled over toward the window, trying desperately not to throw up in Shelby’s masterpiece.

SPEED IS NOT AN ISSUE
Finally we’re on the road. Although we possess 3 stellar cars for some reason they decide to drive the speed limit, a first for me (or most likely anyone else) on this trip. We still have a long way to go but I’m just happy to be driving with cool air. After about 45 minutes we come to a sign that reads “Road Closed”. Everyone gets out and they debate whether to turn around or continue through the roadblock. After about 20 minutes there’s still no decision so they decide to go past the roadblock and use up more precious time to film the cars. Then after more discussion we decide to head back. Even though it’s a few hours since we left the drag strip and we haven’t made any headway we decide to make a pit stop. In all of my other experience rally pit stops rival the old Formula One tire changes. As you roll into the gas station you have your seatbelt unbuckled, one hand on the door, and you know exactly what you need. You delegate tasks so you know who’s getting the gas, who’s getting the water and who’s heading to the bathroom. As you slow to a stop, all doors swing open and everyone jumps into action. Since we had wasted so much time and we were so behind I was ready to go. I get out run to the bathroom, get some water and some cashews and run back to the car and buckle up my seatbelt. I’m ready to go in just a few seconds flat. But I’m the only one in the Mustang. There’s no one in the Mosler or the Porsche. I look out the window and they’re sitting on the sidewalk chatting. I wander over wondering if perhaps one of the cars broke down again. They say that we don’t need to be first, it’s about the experience. This is the first time I realized I was in real trouble. I’m not sure what experience they were talking about, the one where you sit at a gas station in the middle of nowhere and eat gas station pizza and anti-freeze Gatorade?

THE INFILTRATOR
Realistically I am the infiltrator here. They are all in agreement and have their own system, which they’re perfectly happy with. They inform me that they’ve been last every day and they don’t care. Unfortunately they neglected to mention this to me. Back in the car there was talk of auras and Indian chiefs and about how they had been listening to that red neck comic Jeff Foxworthy for the entire last leg. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for the “smooth sounds of soft jazz”! At about 6:00 my friend calls me to say that they arrived in Vail and she was on her way to the spa. We were still a good 5 hours away. After a few more 20-minute pit stops and a rainstorm (during which we drop the speed to below the actual speed limit) we roll into Vail at 11:30. The first person I see is Victor from Spyker. I just shake my head. He laughs and offers to take me to dinner, but I’m so exhausted at this point that I head right up and go to bed. I guess I should cancel the rabbi.

June 05th, 2006 Day 5

Car: Black Mercedes
Co-Drivers: Claus the Cat and Karl
Top Speed: mid-100s
Cop Stops: 2, no tickets

THE CAT V. THE COPS
The first thing I do in the morning is ring up The Cat. “Claus I need to get to Vegas, and you’re my man.” Claus invites me back and I just melt into the welcoming arms of the black leather backseat. It feels like home. Claus starts out driving and though he says he’d like to take it “nice and easy today” we’re already at 150. We meet up with Nicolas Frankel and his sister Annabelle (fresh from her time in the pen) in their silver corvette. We get word that there’s another APB out for a black Merc and a silver car. Just then we spot a cop car pull out behind us. We get off the highway and though the cop is far behind he sees us and follows us off the exit. For some reason Nicolas pulls into a Budweiser factory. We pull to a stop and the cop pulls right up behind us. Annabelle runs out and Nicolas informs the cop of her unfortunate bout of diarrhea, as if this somehow will get us out of a ticket. The cop says that there have been reports of a black Merc and a silver Porsche speeding along the highway. Nicolas immediately indicates that he’s driving a Vette not a Porsche so that must rule us out and Claus chimes in that there are so many black Mercs that he couldn’t possible point the finger at us. Somehow Nicolas manages to work into the conversation something about being an Olympic bobsledder and the cop seems impressed. How can you give a ticket to an Olympian? Miraculously, he lets us go.

THE CAT V. COPS PART II
A little further down the road the word is out again for a black Merc and a silver Vette. We get off and again the cop follows us off the exit. Claus drives into a Taco Bell and pulls around to the drive-thru. We order french fries and as we stealthily pull out we see the cop sitting behind Nicolas. Claus the Cat strikes again! We pull across the street and look for a way back onto the highway without driving past them. Nicolas calls us and says that the cop would like us to come back but nothing will happen to us. Claus does for some reason and we meet up with another very cool cop. He informs us that a car reported us causing havoc on the highway. He says he understands we want to have fun but just to be more courteous to other drivers. For the rest of the leg when we blew past someone Karl was in charge of providing the courteous combination wave and smile. We make it into Vegas with Claus’s cat status still intact.

June 06th, 2006 Day 6

Car: silver Lotus Elise
Co-Driver: Bibi
Top Speed: 120 mph
Cop Stops: 0

FALLING IN LOVE ON BULLRUN
The Lotus is basically good for 5’3 women, pre-teen boys and fully-grown midgets. It’s not practical, most people complain it’s not comfortable, if you’re not careful you will get run over by an SUV (see below). Basically it’s a somewhat life sized matchbox car and I love it! The Lotus Elise was tailor made for me. At 150 top speed it’s not the fastest car but you’d be hard pressed to find a car that’s more fun on the track. The car sticks to corners like double-sided tape holding up a low cut Cavalli halter. You virtually lay down in the car so I could even wear my Gucci stilettos with no problem. The stiletto lays flat and they didn’t even pose a problem when double-clutching. A car that allows me to double-clutch in my Gucci’s, that’s the car for me!

THE CARS DON’T NAVIGATE THEMSELVES
We start the leg at the Shelby factory. Not a bad way to start the day, by looking at Cobras and Mustangs. I tell my co-driver that she’ll be the navigator and she just shakes her head no. We’re on the starting line and she tells me that she doesn’t know how to read a map. We decide to follow cars to the highway and then it’s a straight shot to San Diego so it shouldn’t be a problem. Except the silver Porsche we’re following is lost and then gets pulled over by a cop. We start to follow someone else who also doesn’t know where they’re going. After about 20 minutes of trying to find the highway, which was right near the factory, we find it. We stop to get gas and meet up with the silver Porsche again. Why we didn’t learn our lesson the first time I have no idea. Well, he does find the highway this time, however he leads us on the wrong way! If you’ve ever driven around this part of the country you know that exits are about 60 miles apart. The Porsche crosses the center divider and after another mile I do the same.

TEQUILA SUNSET
We decided to skip the lunch stop at Lake Havasu and head straight for San Diego. We make it in 3rd and receive the congratulatory praise though we neglect to mention that we skipped the lunch stop. Instead of going straight to the hotel the end stop was at a private train car owned by Patron Tequila. It was a design masterpiece with dark wood beams on the ceiling, plush couches and paintings adorning the walls. We are met by John Paul Mitchell, part owner of tequila, and I debate asking him to do my hair which hasn’t seen a hair dryer in several days. We arrive in enough time to go to the pool and take a nice long shower. The nighttime party is held on the roof of the W hotel, which boasts a floor made of sand. It’s a great party and everyone makes the most of it considering tomorrow is our last day.

June 07th, 2006 Day 7

Car: silver Lotus Elise
Co-Driver: Bibi
Top Speed: 120 mph
Cop Stops: 0

DONUTS FOR BREAKFAST
They try to take away my Lotus but I refuse to relinquish the keys. David tells me that someone else is going to drive the Elise for the last leg but I inform him that this simply won’t do. I don’t mean to be difficult but, oh who am I kidding, I am difficult, and don’t fuck with me and my Lotus! Outside Chuck Mallet takes his yellow Corvette for a spin—quite literally. Right in front of the W hotel Chuck decides this would be a good time for a morning donut, with the car that is. If you ever visit the San Diego W be sure to look for the black rings outside, courtesy of Chuck.

THE CARS DON’T NAVIGATE THEMSELVES, PART II
We’re off and again I have no navigator. I find the right highway but I have no idea where to get off. I have Bibi call Claus but we miss the exit. I get off and it’s one of those weird highways where it’s complicated to get back on the other way. I make a detour and get caught in some serious traffic. I try to cut in front of this black monster truck that’s raised up on impossibly huge oversized wheels. The light turns red and Mr. Monster doesn’t see my matchbox car. He takes out my driver’s side mirror and keeps on going, I’m sure he didn’t even feel the hit. We carry on wounded to the racetrack. There rally/drift champion Tanner Foust takes me for a little drifting lesson around track. The car is amazing! Tanner thinks so too so when we exit I grab the keys back from him quickly before he tries to claim it as his own. He’s adorable, but I want my car back. We’re one of the last cars to leave so we’re already behind. Getting to LA will be a disaster any way you look at it so I try to find the least painful way. This of course involves lots of different highways. Once on the road my navigator promptly falls asleep. I drive, navigate and daydream about heading south with my new best friend, the Lotus, and spending the rest of our days hugging the Mexican coast and drinking margaritas. Alas, instead we pull into the Beverly Hilton.

BULLRUN SUCCESS
It’s been quite a journey. Not too many casualties for me. I got one ticket (Oh, the YSL boots that never will be) and lost a car mirror. But on the positive side, I got to drive the Spyker, by far the best car on the road right now. I got engaged, albeit briefly, and planned a fabulous Moroccan wedding, which granted will sadly never materialize. And I found my car soul mate in the Lotus. All in all I would say I had another successful Bullrun.