Trek To Texas II

Twenty-four hundred miles without blowing a connecting rod through the block? I was dubious. The 11.5:1 compression of the Toyota's 2ZZ-GE, combined with 8 psi of boost and my Italian right foot did not sound like a healthy combination. Still, we gave Project Matrix a rich, safe tune, a working stereo and hit the highway on the Trek to Texas II, our second annual road trip from Irvine, Calif. just south of Los Angeles to the World Import Challenge in Houston.

Last June, you'll remember we nearly needed to swim to safety as a string of tropical storms peed all over the Gulf coast. Well, this year's event went off without a hitch. We packed our waterproof underwear for nothing.

Each day we visited various Mazda dealerships, because Mazda signed on as the Trek's title sponsor, but we also found time to stop by the headquarters of companies we don't usually get to visit, like Nitrous Express in Wichita Falls, Texas and Direct Hits who sponsored a go-kart stop in Albuquerque, N.M. At each stop, readers aware of our itinerary from the Trek Web site, gathered to show us their interpretation of modern performance. But mostly, the trek is miles of unwavering desert highway interrupted only by long-lost gas stations and motor lodges whose forms are slowly dissolving into the desert floor. It's a landscape that encourages both contemplation and speeding tickets.

We chose Project Matrix for the trip, to prove Toyota's 2ZZ-GE engine, which has an 11.5:1 compression ratio can be turbocharged and still work. Plus, it has the most cargo room of any project car in our fleet.

After a few 10-hour days in the Matrix, which ran flawlessly the entire trip despite constantly being kept in the boost, a few little niggles popped up. For instance, you cannot fit any kind of charging adapter (like on a cell phone) in that nifty DC outlet located in the center console. We also discovered the abrasive fabric used on the door insert will rub your elbows till they bleed. Still, we pressed on, raw elbows and all.

Some of last year's motley crew made this year's Trek. Trek director Larry "I-have-a-Jacuzzi-and-big-screen-TV-in-my-room" Saavedra spent every evening uploading digital pictures of the day's events, so readers would have day-by-day coverage of our progress available on our Web site www.sportcompactcarweb.com. Cam and Kendall Waugh, with friends Steve and Jody, made the trip down from Regina, Canada to join us in Amarillo. Just like last year, they again made the Trek in their beloved B6T-powered Ford Festiva, which, by the way, is just a hair slower than our quite fast Matrix.

Much of the trip paralleled historic Route 66, where the souls of travelers lost, freckled kids with sticky fingers and overheating Studebakers haunt the many stops built when the road served as a river of resources and opportunity. Plying the straight roads that run through the West, you get a sense of the lonely cowboy life with only dirt and the stars to keep you company.

Upon our arrival in the high desert Arizona town of Chandler, the outside temperature gauge on the Matrix registered 18 degrees. Having cursed such temperatures the duration of my upstate New York childhood, I never thought I might one day enjoy it in a very high strung, very turbocharged Matrix. Holy smokin' tires.

First gear: Useless. Second gear: Useless until 50 mph. Then the car scratched third gear, hard. With such high-speed prowess, the Matrix collected dead bugs fast. Cleaning sessions became almost as frequent as gas stops. Then the Matrix spent 8 long seconds behind a gravel truck in Leupp Corner, Ariz. In 8 seconds, our red hood went from perfect to having a year's worth of rock chips.

Each day, the lunch stops quickly divided the Trek caravan into two groups: Those who traveled 2,000 miles to sample the culinary wonders of the road, Cracker Barrel and Dairy Queen, and those determined to get sick on the same stuff as the locals. Convincing the locals we wanted real local food, however, was difficult; they continuously sent us to Pancho's very commercial chain Mexican Buffet. Mmm, Velveeta burrito, can't get this back in L.A.

A culinary constant, however, was provided by the saviors from Red Bull, who met us at indecent hours on those early, cold desert mornings to supply little high-octane silver cans.

We wanted two things from the great state of New Mexico: Sopapillas, those heavenly pockets of fried dough, and green chile. Nothing works a man's taste buds or his colon like New Mexico chile. In Gallup, after consultation with a local gas station attendant, we drove to the "across the tracks" part of town to eat at the Plaza Cafe, where they were only too happy to serve up a bunch of 'feriners.' Great chile.

As we drove east, two things caught our attention. First, we noticed the truck-to-car ratio shot up. Our Skittles-colored caravan of sporty cars was now clearly outnumbered by thousands of turbo diesel dualies. And second, there was no missing the Wal-Mart phenomenon, especially in little towns like Memphis, Texas, population 2,472. Pulling off the two-lane highway into the quaint and historic brick-cobbled town square of Memphis, we half-expected to see Boss Hogg chasing after a certain orange Charger. Maybe a third of the store fronts were viable businesses, and Gloria, owner of a local eatery, explained that everyone was moving away to cities with more fiscal opportunity.

The lure of roadside advertising proved an ever-constant pull, and the widely advertised trucker discounts for porn had several staffers doing their best swaggers at the truck stop/package store/barber/fireworks/smut emporiums, but were betrayed by their lack of proper "y'all" usage.

After the more than 2,000 miles, our hastily burned collection of CDs grated on our nerves like nails on a chalkboard. We were desperate for new material, but our patience for Norteno, country or ministry shows was soon tested. Assured my non-reverential lifestyle would lead me straight to hell for the 4,573rd time, we reached Houston where we were finally blessed with brimstone-free radio.

With sadness, we left Project Matrix at the World Import Challenge. From there, it was transported to Spring Break in Daytona Beach, where it no doubt received a well-deserved vacation.

Would we do it all again? In a heartbeat. There's nothing like a great road trip to ponder the relationship of you and the world, you and your car and your car and the world. We urge you to take the two-lane road less traveled on your next trip, leaving the interstate for another day. See what the America television no longer shows us. Explore while treasures are still to be found, meet the locals and get homemade pie for the road.

When you're ready, sign up for the Trek to Texas III. It's only one short year away.

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