For a Datsun??

From: The Man From Utopia (tmfu@home.com)
Date: Wed Sep 22 1999 - 19:27:30 EDT


04:17 AM ET 09/22/99

 Contestants Vying for Pickup Truck
 By MEGAN K. STACK=
 Associated Press Writer=
            LONGVIEW, Texas (AP) _ It's just before 7 a.m. on a chilly
 September morning and the 24 people vying for a $15,000 pickup
 truck are sizing up the competition.
            A mother faces down the twentysomething owner of a snow cone
 store. A father-and-daughter duo eye a teacher who was inspired by
 a dream to enter the off-beat competition sponsored by a vehicle
 dealership.
            The Hands on a Hardbody contest is about to begin.
            The participants clustered at dawn Tuesday to begin a standing
 marathon that will last until mistakes, chilly winds and exhaustion
 peel all participants from the steely skin of the truck but one.
            The rules are simple: One hand must be laid flat on the truck at
 all times. The contestant who holds out longest drives the truck
 home.
            Day One is by far the easiest. Soon feet will swell, boredom
 will sink in and tempers will shorten. Still later, as the
 sleepless hours and days roll by, the hallucinations begin.
            ``You go slowly insane,'' said Vinny Perkins, the 1992 winner.
 ``Tempers flare, you start talking trash, playing mind games with
 each other.''
            Most years, a winner is declared after 90-some grueling hours.
 Around the gleaming truck, the line between comedy and tragedy is
 smudged.
            ``There are so many aspects to this contest people don't think
 about,'' organizer Jan Maynard said. ``It is a real human drama.''
            Filmmaker S.R. Bindler thought so. Bindler shot a documentary of
 the contest in 1995. Released last summer, ``Hands on a Hardbody''
 traces the hilarity and heartbreak of the days-long event.
            Last year, one tired woman in a waking hallucination dreamed she
 was on her way to a dance club. She wandered away from the truck
 and was immediately disqualified.
            ``I've had them thinking they see snakes, bending over to pick
 up tools that aren't there because they dream they're working on a
 truck,'' longtime judge Barbara Baggs said.
            Each participant is bent on winning the Nissan Frontier, but
 everyone has a different theory on how to win, and who the toughest
 competitors will be.
            ``But there are surprises every year,'' Ms. Baggs said. ``You
 can't tell by looking at them.''
            The diet tends to be spartan and packed with protein: Tuna
 straight from the can, thick gobs of peanut butter, bananas. No
 caffeine, lots of water.
            Every hour, contestants can take six minutes away from the
 truck. They dash either to the bathroom inside the dealership or to
 makeshift rest stations set up nearby.
            Warren Hearne, a state police officer, has been hitting the gym
 at dawn to ready himself. Last year, Hearne lost when _ after 56
 hours on the truck _ he accidentally used both hands to pull off
 his headphones.
            This year, his personal trainer looked on while Hearne squirmed,
 twisted around and leaned away from the truck to chat with
 spectators.
            ``See?'' trainer Kevin Elder sighs, tapping his forehead. ``No
 mental concentration.''
            Each contestant has a collection of comforts _ things like lawn
 chairs, stocked coolers, blankets, notes from their families.
            ``This is a vacation for me,'' said Stacy Jimerson, a mother of
 two and full-time student. ``I actually get to relax.''
            Most of the would-be truck owners already have cars; some say
 they'll give the vehicle away if they win.
            Not so Mary Edwards. She needs the truck. Her 9-year-old son has
 cerebral palsy, his doctors are in Louisiana and she can't fit two
 people, a wheelchair and a walker in her compact car.
            ``They keep saying, `Get a van, get a truck,''' said Ms.
 Edwards, who works as a hostess at a local restaurant. ``But I've
 been struggling.''
            Others say they want to win because, well, they want to win.
            ``It's really just the prestige,'' Rick Stolz said. He
 hesitated, glanced around. ``Um, if you can call it that.''
 



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