"Remember, folks," stresses the P.A. announcer, "that's an adult smoker."
Soon the racing begins. For 10 bucks the folks in the cheap seats get the same mud facial that a socialite would spend hundreds for at an exclusive spa. "Let's see a wreck!" a disgruntled customer shouts during a lackluster run. "Take that thang back to Dee-troit!"
"If there's anybody in the arena who left a tractor-trailer full of Christmas trees in the parking lot," comes the inevitable P.A. announcement, "remove it immediately or it will be towed!"
It quickly becomes clear that Shafer will become the world champion, a title he can savor during his monthlong off-season in Pontoon Beach, where he is a licensed game breeder and raises the black bears that gave Bear Foot its name.
And with that decided, there is but one question left to answer. The Falling Fire Angel has done her thing. Vicki Sims is an adult. And she now stands smoldering in a tunnel. So I wonder: Does she qualify for the Camel jacket?