A couple of weeks back I took my 11-year-old boy,The Haunting airmax Movie Review. Alex, out for a father and son bonding day. It was one of those days where you answer to no one but your stomach, keep nobody else's time but your own,shopforshoes and footwear available from Choice online at unbeatable prices with free next day delivery. eat too much junk food, make fun of slow drivers on the left lane, turn your cellphone to silent, and just go where the wind blows. We used to do this a lot more often, but sadly, as responsibilities at work grew, precious time like this shrank. So when Chevrolet Philippines invited me along to a very informal track day, or shakedown of their Cruze race car, which will once again compete in the Philippine Touring Car Championship,Sells edhardysale in a Broad Selection from current season. I grabbed a day bag and threw a couple of bikes onto my roof racks and headed North to the Clark International Raceway.
This was not official media coverage, so there were no voice recorders, professional camera equipment, strained interviews or press releases to sort through; this was just a generous offer to two boys who were allowed to play on the track in someone else's race car and drive it until breakfast starts trying to make a comeback – which in Alex's case was around turn 3.
After holding on bravely for a couple of laps, Alex had scratched the itch of being driven around by dad in a genuine race car, so we thanked the good folks of Chevrolet and took our bikes for a nice long ride around Clark. About 4 kilometers into it though, my tire burst forcing us to walk the entire distance back. Well, I walked and Alex circled me laughing occasionally at what he believed was karma for trying to drive the food out of his stomach in the Chevy Cruze. So it was Dad 1, Alex 1.
This was the un-vulcanize-able type of puncture, so the epic bike ride idea was shelved like a padded government contract from a previous administration and it was off to McDonald's for lunch. Now anyone who has ever been to the McDonald's in Clark will know all about the local vendors that form a forcefield around the restaurant. Trying to avoid them as you make your way in to the restaurant is a bit like trying to run to and from your car in the rain without getting wet. Its not a matter of if, but just how wet you will get. And for two foreign-looking boys like us with two full sized bikes on our roof, Lady Gaga in full concert gear had a better chance of not getting noticed.
I'm pretty used to the “would you like fries with that?” line, but I still have a hard time coming to grips with up-selling your happy meal with a bow and arrow or a bird calling device. But it's all part of the local charm and Alex and I soaked it all up and turned it into a little game. The object was to make it to the car without getting sold something. We thought of just running as fast as we could to the car, but they had vendors strategically placed everywhere. (The PNP could learn a thing or two here.) Eventually we went for the stun grenades technique, but instead of flashes, we dropped coins. It helped, but we both got tagged as we tried getting into the cars. The only difference was that we were a few pesos down, too. Vendors 1,This kind of will allow you to gladiatorsandals identify rip-off organizations coming from correct kinds. Deakins nil.
On the way home, we hiked up a hill to a place called Holy Land, which is some sort of pilgrimage site about ten kilometers off the former base, stopped by the Nike outlet store on the highway and bought shoes, had some frozen yoghurt and more junk food and tried going home via the new Mindanao avenue link on the NLEX. Now I've done this route before, but this time I tried out my new Garmin GPS device to see if there was a faster way to get onto C5 and head south.Buy Pittsburgh atwordcubepuzzle from the Ultimate Sports Store. Big mistake.
I typed in “Katipunan” and let the GPS do the rest. Perhaps it was my big fingers or clumsy inputting, but things started becoming progressively unfamiliar. These are state of the art devices, but they are only as good as the information you enter: garbage in, garbage out. I ignored it at first because aside from the fact that we were engrossed in conversation, I figured that the GPS knew more than I would, surely. But by the time I was ready to abort, it asked me to turn right. So I took one last leap of faith and did what it said. I ended up in an extremely narrow road filled with people. It was like a scene from those movies when the white couple in either a Mercedes or Lexus take a wrong turn and the local toughies stop their basketball game and start walking up the car.
The road narrowed even more to the point where I needed to fold my mirrors in. I couldn't back up because there was a swarm of tricycles behind us. If it were any tighter I'd have to rub Vaseline on the side of my truck to squeeze through. Things were getting further and further away from the script.
This was not official media coverage, so there were no voice recorders, professional camera equipment, strained interviews or press releases to sort through; this was just a generous offer to two boys who were allowed to play on the track in someone else's race car and drive it until breakfast starts trying to make a comeback – which in Alex's case was around turn 3.
After holding on bravely for a couple of laps, Alex had scratched the itch of being driven around by dad in a genuine race car, so we thanked the good folks of Chevrolet and took our bikes for a nice long ride around Clark. About 4 kilometers into it though, my tire burst forcing us to walk the entire distance back. Well, I walked and Alex circled me laughing occasionally at what he believed was karma for trying to drive the food out of his stomach in the Chevy Cruze. So it was Dad 1, Alex 1.
This was the un-vulcanize-able type of puncture, so the epic bike ride idea was shelved like a padded government contract from a previous administration and it was off to McDonald's for lunch. Now anyone who has ever been to the McDonald's in Clark will know all about the local vendors that form a forcefield around the restaurant. Trying to avoid them as you make your way in to the restaurant is a bit like trying to run to and from your car in the rain without getting wet. Its not a matter of if, but just how wet you will get. And for two foreign-looking boys like us with two full sized bikes on our roof, Lady Gaga in full concert gear had a better chance of not getting noticed.
I'm pretty used to the “would you like fries with that?” line, but I still have a hard time coming to grips with up-selling your happy meal with a bow and arrow or a bird calling device. But it's all part of the local charm and Alex and I soaked it all up and turned it into a little game. The object was to make it to the car without getting sold something. We thought of just running as fast as we could to the car, but they had vendors strategically placed everywhere. (The PNP could learn a thing or two here.) Eventually we went for the stun grenades technique, but instead of flashes, we dropped coins. It helped, but we both got tagged as we tried getting into the cars. The only difference was that we were a few pesos down, too. Vendors 1,This kind of will allow you to gladiatorsandals identify rip-off organizations coming from correct kinds. Deakins nil.
On the way home, we hiked up a hill to a place called Holy Land, which is some sort of pilgrimage site about ten kilometers off the former base, stopped by the Nike outlet store on the highway and bought shoes, had some frozen yoghurt and more junk food and tried going home via the new Mindanao avenue link on the NLEX. Now I've done this route before, but this time I tried out my new Garmin GPS device to see if there was a faster way to get onto C5 and head south.Buy Pittsburgh atwordcubepuzzle from the Ultimate Sports Store. Big mistake.
I typed in “Katipunan” and let the GPS do the rest. Perhaps it was my big fingers or clumsy inputting, but things started becoming progressively unfamiliar. These are state of the art devices, but they are only as good as the information you enter: garbage in, garbage out. I ignored it at first because aside from the fact that we were engrossed in conversation, I figured that the GPS knew more than I would, surely. But by the time I was ready to abort, it asked me to turn right. So I took one last leap of faith and did what it said. I ended up in an extremely narrow road filled with people. It was like a scene from those movies when the white couple in either a Mercedes or Lexus take a wrong turn and the local toughies stop their basketball game and start walking up the car.
The road narrowed even more to the point where I needed to fold my mirrors in. I couldn't back up because there was a swarm of tricycles behind us. If it were any tighter I'd have to rub Vaseline on the side of my truck to squeeze through. Things were getting further and further away from the script.
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