Oh, Lord, please let my heater work. That was my first thought when I opened the garage door for the Alfa drive to Eureka Springs, Ark., on the only frigid morning of an Oklahoma Autumn that had made global warmers beam with self-satisfaction. This drive was going to be huge - drivers from Tulsa, Oklahoma City, Kansas, Texas, Missouri, Michigan and, for all I knew, Milan, Rome and Turin for the 25th Alfa Fall Fling. No top-down today, at least until the sun burned off the gray on this Friday, October 23.

Most of the traveling Alfisti were to form up in one of a couple of armada. The first was to gather early that morning at the Quik Trip east of Tulsa across the highway from the Tulsa Hard Rock Resort, Casino, Golf Course, Hotel and 24-hour Bar and Buffet (correct me if I'm wrong - never been there). The absolutely firm directive was to be there at nine thirty sharp for an immediate takeoff, for this was the advance team carrying all the banners, snacks and drinks to the hotel in Eureka Springs, and it had to there to set up everything for the rest of the Alfisti arriving later in the day.

Oh, how long do you have to own an Alfa until you learn that Italianate time and deadlines are advisory - just like yellow stripes to Keith Kelly? Naturally, therefore, we milled around the Quik Trip lot for what seemed an arctic winter, drinking hot coffee, stamping our feet, eating donuts, studying one another's valve covers and explaining to the gawkers that they are Alfa Romeos and that they don't import them any longer. All the while straggling Alfisti straggled in and made ready for the jaunt.

OK, ten-thirty and we are at last off on our way eastward in a caravan with David and Eileen Simmons in the lead, Alan Ozwalt in his Alfetta next, then me in my '91 Spider, followed by Claudia Ozwalt in her 164. Behind that were Jamie and Autumn Perlingiere, Les and Joan Neidell, Russ and Peggy Neely, Karl and Rosie Schmidt, and __________ ... .

We started out on the direct route to Eureka Springs, a 150 mile cruise due east from Tulsa, just as my GPS was saying we should. But it wasn't fifteen minutes later that Leader David Simmons veered onto a paved goat trail into the Ozark foothills and the GPS began insisting I "make a legal u-turn". Getting rid of the GPS, I knew that this trip wasn't so much to get us to Eureka Springs as it was to "be going" to Eureka Springs, and Leader David does seemed to know how to find the zen in a road trip. But what mystified was how he was actually able to find Eureka Springs with all the zen'ish zags he found along the way. However he did it, though, this was about to be the most fun I had ever had in a car. Really. The Most. No, Really. Even better than the Talimena Drive trip last year; and I thought that was the most fun I had had in a car. There is absolutely nothing like driving a car well designed for hills and curves.

So, up, up into the hills of eastern Oklahoma we drove, the switchbacks and hairpins coming more often with the miles. Past lakes, over rises and through fiery-colored woods, past Spavinaw dam and lake - Tulsa's water source - and then over into Arkansas for a moment - just a moment because before I knew it we dashed up into Missouri. Missouri? Why Missouri? I mean Eureka Springs was by now far away from us to the southeast and we were careening northeastward. Simple answer: there were more hills and hairpins in Missouri. And since someplace up in Missouri there was bound to be another road that would wind us back down to Eureka Springs, why not?

By mid-day we'd been flying for a couple of hours and it was beginning to warm up; so I turned off the heat and cracked the windows - still not top-down'able, though. The entire way I had been behind Alan Ozwalt and ahead of Claudia Ozwalt, going faster and faster around the curves and over the humps and through the straights. It is a very peculiar experience driving in the slot between Mr. and Mrs. Ozwalt. It made me feel like an uninvited guest at their dinner out. Claudia was driving her 164, which, for all the world, looked to me like Alfa's drive-the-kids-to-soccer-and-go-to-the-grocery model. And, in fact, her back seat was stacked full of groceries and Alfa convention supplies for the weekend. So, I naively assumed she was on the drive just to look at the leaves and the wildlife. Not a chance. All the way, while I was pushing my Spider to stay up with the Leader, if I let off the gas for a moment, Claudia and her mom-mobile 164 were going to leave tire tracks on my trunk lid.

So, there I was driving as hard as I dared to stay ahead of Claudia with Alan and his Alfetta setting the pace right ahead of me. Yet, someplace around East Overshoe, Missouri, in a particularly fun piece of hill driving, I started to smell gasoline. Oh, great. I had just replaced one of my fuel pumps and I assumed I hadn't tightened something important somewhere and was about to explode or conk to a stop and be crushed between the Ozwalts. But then I began to see a pattern to the odor. It came in bursts, each one a few moments after Alan's Alfetta would hang a tight right turn. And then I saw it: a Alan veered right, a pint of gasoline poured out the back of his car onto the road, and I caught the odor of it a moment later as I drove over the slosh spot. There I am, getting light headed from Mr. Ozwalt and in mortal fear of being run over by Mrs. Ozwalt. Fortunately, we hit Noel, Missouri a few minutes later for a brief stop. Warning given to Alan ("No big deal. I'll fix it in Eureka.") and new slot in the lineup grabbed ("Impressive driving, Claudia; but I'm moving back there with the amateurs."), and we were off again.

Still, the turns and hills kept coming and the fun continued. Someplace up there in Missouri we bent southward back toward Arkansas and Eureka Springs. It was past lunchtime when we began to see footprints of tourism, signs for craft shops, restaurants and hotels. We rolled into Eureka Springs and found the Fall Fling hotel just where it was supposed to be; Leader David really did know where he was going. Unfortunately, I was unable to stick around for the weekend; I had to drive on to Kansas City to meet my family for "command performance" event. So, after some really good barbeque with fellow Alfisti in Eureka Springs, I pulled out the GPS, stuck it back onto the windshield and headed North back into Missouri, passing the afternoon armada that was just arriving.