Folks I have to tell you I love going to a rally. The anticipation builds and builds till I feel like emotionally, I might explode at any moment. I have a mini rally, or better called a trailer gathering in two weekends. At present, I am getting very excited again. However, there is a dark side to all this excitement. The dark side is the depression I feel on Sunday morning when it is over. As soon as the first trailer leaves I feel an overwhelming sadness come over me. I have come to absolutely loath that feeling.
The first trailer to leave at the installation rally was John Kwasnick's 1961. The guy with the shortest pull was the first to go. You can see the hole in the wagon wheel above. He had been parked between Rob Baker and Wayne Moore.
I wake up early. I was awake at about 4:30 am and reading, drinking coffee, and generally enjoying the comfort of my second home. At 5:45 I hear a truck pull up. I look out and it is John hooking up his trailer to his Land Rover. I could feel the depression come washing in like the tide in the Bay of Fundy. So strong and swift that there is no stopping it. Within five minutes I began packing Anna up and getting her ready to go home too. As co-host, I could not escape, though there was a great deal of stuff to take down and make the field look like it did before we arrived. I put on a smile and pretended that the ending of such a fine rally did not bother me. I think I heard at least 10 people say "I hate the Sunday of a rally" or "This is the worst part of the rally."
As I left for home there were three trailer still on the field. I guess a little depression is the price one must pay for such a good time. I guess there are down sides to all positive events. Now if the next two weeks would hurry the hell up...