We decided to try to beat the desert heat by leaving two hours early for the drive to San Bernardino. With the sun low in the sky at our backs, we attacked the desert for our last day’s miles.

Gentle sweeping turns and the gorgeous scenery made us forget the miles we’d traveled so far. It’s hard to believe that settlers in covered wagons averaged only 30 miles or so a day during the great westward migration.

We must not have been the only ones to take the heat into account when determining departure time. We caught other Tour cars along the way, like this fine ’64 Falcon Sprint convertible.

Even the old flat head rod was cruisin’ — all the way in a no-top, flat head Ford. This, my dear friends, is a true rodder.

There’s a reason he’s smiling. Life’s good. Real good. And despite what they say, you can “go back.”

Even in the flat barren lands of the desert, the road can surprise you. Here, Gary takes a steeply banked turn in the Vista-Cruiser.

Notice that great reflection in the hood of the ’59? It’s amazing what some good wax will do (not to mention a highly skilled, but incredibly modest, photographer).

Somewhere out in the middle of the desert, we decided gas was necessary for the forward movement of the cars. So, we stopped. Where, you might ask? Here.

I ran in to leave a credit card with the clerk so Gary and Jim could fill the tanks. This little sign caught my eye.

Interesting use of the word “fortune” twice. It didn’t make much sense until I walked out and looked at the pump.

Holy #@*$!!! That’s more than I paid for my first car. Against Gary’s better judgment, he went in for a quart of oil. Take a look here at the only $3.00 quart of non-synthetic oil in the world.

I’m mounting that bottle for posterity and hanging it on the wall.

Considering we weren’t totally empty, but lacked enough gas to make the next stop, the total could have been worse.

Other Tour cars caught up while we were stopped. Here’s an old Colorado State pursuit Camaro.

Desert almost gone, we rolled through Victorville, where you can find tributes to Roy Rogers and Dale Evans.

How come Dale got the Parkway, but ol’ Roy only got the Drive? By the way, there’s a cool museum there if you ever get the chance.

I convinced Gary and Jim to stop for breakfast by threatening to post online some of the more interesting shots of them. My goal was to have at least one decent breakfast that didn’t involve chocolate or Diet Coke. I succeeded.

Don’t even ask about the green Tabasco sauce.

Outside Victorville there was still snow on the mountains. Amazing when down below it was already over 100º.

Back on familiar ground, we made our way to “E” Street in beautiful downtown San Bernardino. Another Power Tour completed!

After checking-in, we made a side trip to (you guessed it) a car wash to scrape the bugs off the front of the cars. Jim,

and Gary,

had the routine down pat by this time. A little spray, a little wash, and we were good to go. Back to the party and to our friends.

Craig and Ken called to say they were on their way with the dually truck to meet us. (Remember Ken, the one who wimped-out on the Tour because his wife was preggo?) We decided to empty the cars of all our traveling stuff, so folks could get a better look at the interiors.

Cars clean and empty, we headed back to our spot. Here’s a shot of the two long haul cars, along with our 454 Convertible. As much as I would have liked to driven it instead, the price of gas wouldn’t allow it.

Somewhere back in traffic was Dennis, driving SLEPE ’63, the Nova SS convertible. Too bad, Dennis, you missed the shot.

Gary’s highly-tuned nose detected traces of free food, so we followed his trail.

Pay no attention to that silver colored can in front of him.

Our buddy Todd Ryden of MSD has been checking-off each city along the way on the back window of Wagoon. Here’s the ceremonial last “check.”

Now we know the Tour’s over. Todd’s checked-out.

Right on schedule, some time behind us, the flamed Hot Rod van arrived. Another year of fun and frivolity completed.

Ken and I walked the streets of downtown San B, looking for cool Tour cars. This was not one of them.

During the Tour, we had been looking for babes to model our swell Mothers® tatoos. Ken, ever the literal one, found us a real babe.

We managed to get a few of the Mothers® gang together for a family shot. Trust me, we’re better looking than the angle shows.

All during the Tour, folks have been treated to great shots of our resident stud muffin, Justin, along with Jim and Gary. There was only one person missing — me. So, thanks to our emap buddy and former Hot Rod Publisher, Brad Gerber, here is a shot of the Mothers® long haul gang, myself included.

From left to right: Me (Forrest), Justin, Jim and Gary. And you only thought motley crew was the name of a band.

Some of the folks in politically correct California like to, at times, flaunt political incorrectness. Here, Ken lights up a big ol’ stogie to commemorate another successful Tour.

Or, he could have been congratulating himself for weaseling his way out of going. He’s not talking.

Up on the stage, manufacturers announced prizes and awards. After David from Dupli-Color gave away his last gas-powered remote control car,

“Thelma and Louise” of Baer Brakes gave a discussion of their daily travel tips. What a couple of great gals.

One of Baer’s top prizes was a two-day driving course at the Bob Bondurant school in Phoenix, airfare included. When they announced the winner, Ken about swallowed that stinky cigar.

Maybe he’s not so bad. Maybe I was wrong to tease him these past days. Maybe he didn’t deserve to be ridiculed nonstop.

Naah.

Daily awards over, we packed up the stuff and headed out to the hotel. Here’s the last car I remember before falling asleep on my feet — a flamed Caddy convertible with the requisite California blonde in the passenger seat.