THE WANDERERS #23
MASTERING THE REVERSE SPONSORSHIP AT THE MUD BOGS
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they were heading to Nebraska, against Emma's wishes. Carl had heard about a Mud Bog event that was being held, and since they had no particular destination in mind, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Since the radio blurb was all they knew about the event, Carl headed for Lincoln, figuring that he could stop in at a Chevy dealer and pick up information. We join them now as they rumble into downtown Lincoln and park in front of a clean and shiny Chevy dealership.
***
Carl ambled through the doors and immediately caught the eye of a bored salesman. "Good morning, my friend. I can see you're in the market for a new Suburban. We can make you a heck of a deal on that old beater you're driving. Say, maybe we'll give you five or six grand on it towards a new one."
Carl's jaw tightened a bit. "You got a Suburban with a satellite dish, two trail bike racks, a pair of awnings, a complete kitchen inside, a gun rack, a fishin' pole rack, a toilet and a shower, not to mention a TV, VCR and a stereo that cost more than your monthly rental here?"
The salesman's jaw dropped. "Uhh, nope. But we've got a fine selection of new trucks that..."
Carl interrupted..."that don't have much in the way of horsepower and are probably stock. Man, I got a built 454 under the hood, not one of those weenie motors that won't even chirp the tires. All I need from you, Slick, is information on how to get to the Championship Mud Bogs being held in this here fine state."
"You mean you're gonna compete in the mud race? An old guy like you? Where's your bogger, old timer?"
Carl drew his shoulders back and sucked his stomach in.
"Right out there by the curb, sonny. The one with the boat on the roof. You're lookin' at the Suburban that just won the Baja 500 Safari race."
"You're kidding!"
"Nope. And I got the trophy to prove it."
"Go on!"
"It's a fact. You buy lunch and a cold beer and I'll show it to you."
Over lunch, which consisted of pickled eggs, beef jerky, potato chips and pitchers of beer, Carl and Marvin (that was the salesman's name) talked all about off-road racing. It seemed that Marvin ran a glass-bodied Jeep CJ in the Unlimited Class, much to the dismay of his boss.
"Ain't that pure hell, Carl? Here I am, the star salesman at the Chevy dealership and I'm racing an un-sponsored Jeep. But my boss, Mr. Heimrod, he's so tight he has to put his pants on with WD-40."
Carl popped an entire pickled egg into his mouth and chased it down with a half pitcher of beer. "Don't seem right, Melvin."
"It's Marvin."
"At's what I said. You got mud left in your ears from the last run. Anyways, Myron, are you any good at boggin'?"
"Yeah. I get a lot of seconds and thirds. But I've never won. Mr. Heimrod said that if I wanted to get any sponsorship from him, I'd have to walk in here with a first place trophy. But the competition is fierce in this area."
Carl bit off a chunk of beef jerky, stuffed a handful of potato chips in his mouth and said, "Whelfl, yhtoouff vando groofd..."
Emma sighed. "Carl, please don't try to talk and eat like a wild boar at the same time."
Carl emitted a dainty belch, wiped some chips off the front of his shirt, and looked Marvin straight in the eyes. "Melvin, you want to win? I can show you how. After all, you're talkin' with a Baja champeen here. And I got more than a little bit of experience in mud racin', too. So why don't we team up for this here race. I'll run the stock truck class and you can run your regular class. I figure a pair of wins ought to get your boss's attention. And not only that, if we team up, I can probably talk your boss into sponsoring us. Should be no problem at all to get him to at least pop for entry fees."
Marvin sucked down the last of his suds and laughed. "Hah! If you can get that cheap old scrooge to sponsor us, I'll personally wash your Suburban for you after the races. You're on, Carl."
***
Marvin coughed politely. "Mr. Heimrod? I don't mean to interrupt you, but I'd like you to meet someone. This here is Carl, and he'd like a word with you."
Carl stuck out a meaty hand. "Heidy-doo there, Hemroid. Glad to meetcha."
"The name is Heimrod. Heimrod."
"That's what I said. You got wax in your ears or somethin'? Anyways, I'm the owner of that trick Suburban parked right out in front, and me and Myron here are goin' to team up in the mud bug race this weekend, and we'd like you to sponsor us. Whaddaya say?"
"I say you're out of your skull. I'd be embarrassed to have my dealership name on the side of that rig. It looks like a rolling condo owned by wandering gypsies."
Carl took a deep breath. "Do I take that as a no?"
"Indeed. I'd hate to show my face if your rig had my business name on the side in front of a bunch of potential customers."
Carl started to get red in the face, but Emma quickly pulled him off to one side and whispered in his ear for a few minutes. At first, he shook his head from side to side, then a look of awareness came over his face, and eventually he smiled and shook his head yes, yes, yes.
With a broad grin on his face, Carl leaned on Heimrods desk. "Hemroid, here's the deal. I'm gonna offer you a reverse sponsorship that you ain't gonna be able to refuse. Here's how it works. Unless you pop for the entry fees, I'm gonna letter your dealership name on the doors, the hood, the roof and both fenders. Then I'm gonna do as bad as any human being has ever done at a mud bog. Now, who's your biggest competitor?"
"Why, that would be Doofus Ford, over on Main Street. I hate his guts."
Carl smiled again. "Good. So here's what were gonna do for you. I'll letter Doofus Ford all over my Suburban, and promise not to use your dealership name in any way."
A puzzled look flashed over Heimrods face, then understanding slowly filtered in. "Listen, I've also got a General Tire store over on the other side of town. Could I get you to run some BFG stickers on the windows. Big ones. I hate the BFG dealer. We used to go to school together and he stole my girlfriend from me 23 years ago, almost to the day."
"No problem. Anybody else you don't like?"
"Yes. There's this guy who did my driveway and it cracked real bad in six months. Custer Concrete. Can we get that on the truck somewhere?"
"No problem. With reverse sponsorship, anything is possible. Now, let's talk money."
***
An hour later, Carl had hammered out quite a deal, which covered entry fees, rooms, gas and food.
The next day, Carl and Marvin drove out to the small town of Wet Plank and found the sign up place. Marvin was ecstatic. "I don't know how you did it, Carl!"
"Oh, shucks, Melvin, that ain't nuthin'! Emma gave me some real good ideas. Here's the deal: When we make our practice runs, we both do as bad as humanly possible. Then we look up that Ford dealer and ask HIM for a reverse sponsorship! We should get at least twice as much money!"
During practice, both Carl and Marvin made some truly embarrassing runs. Marvin did a wheelie off the line, got crooked in the first 20 feet of the run, did a U-turn and took out the starting lights on the way back.
Carl blasted off the line on his run, then cranked the steering wheel hard right and charged out of the pit, scattering course workers right and left. He then threw The Whale into a lurid slide and sprayed mud over all the people standing in line at the concession booths.
By the time both of them had made a few runs, the Ford dealer had dragged them into a corner and was begging them to take a fistful of money to get his dealership’s name off of the vehicles. They shook hands and made a deal.
Carl peeled off all the stickers and slapped some Heimrod Chevrolet decals on both rigs in their place.
In the elimination runs, Marvin set fast time in his class and went on to eventually win, while Carl got tenth out of 12 starters in his class, when two ancient Scouts drowned out.
Carl was happy, though, as he had made $2640 from the reverse sponsorships, and Marvin made his boss ecstatic because he had finally won a big one. Emma was delighted because Carl decided to split the money with her... sort of. He gave her forty bucks and a big hug.
![url]](http://[url]http://i230.photobucket.com/albums/ee308/stoneshrink/83%20diesel/P7230901_zpszgcr4eni.jpg[/url])
