(Driving Tigers Magazine reporter Charlotte Webster approached 1986 AADA Northeast Regional Champion, Ed Tunis, and asked what it was like fighting his way to the World Championship. This is what he told us.)
I was coming out of the final lap and just had to stop on my mark to be the new Northeast Champion. My plans for the victory party with my jovial crew were interrupted when Chase Pierce, the Driving Tigers entry, accelerated out of the turn in a mad dash for the line. I wasn't worried at first; at that speed he'd overshoot the mark--and the rules said you had to park it. At that speed, not even retro rockets would do the trick. There was nothing that could stop him....
Except a collision!
He was coming right at me. I wasn't sure which of us, if either one of us, would be able to survive a crash like that. I couldn't take a chance. Waiting to the last possible second, I swerved out of his path. Pierce shot past me and the mark.
His autocannon fired in a last-ditch effort, blemishing an undamaged side of armor. Pierce had known the shot could make no difference in the outcome; he was putting on a show for the crowd. Playing along, I launched my last two radar-guided missiles. The first was confused by limpet beacons on the road, but the other one locked on target. The crowds went wild.
With that incident past, I coasted in and gracefully removed myself from my Can-Am. It was over. Edward C. Tunis III of Jersey Autoduelling Establishment had just become the Northeast Regional Champion. What a feeling!
The next morning on the road back to New Jersey from Arlington, Mass., my crew stopped for breakfast at a truck stop off I-95 by the RI-Conn border. Pierce was there. He saw me and invited me over.
"I stop here whenever I'm in the area," he told me. "One of the waitresses is a good friend of mine." At that moment, she came over to the table. "Ed meet Missy. Missy, this is the guy who took away my chance at the crown yesterday."
I sat there feeling uneasy as Missy poured out two cups of coffee, took my order and left. "No hard feelings about the match, Chase?"
"Don't be silly. It's part of the game. I don't hold grudges."
That was a relief. After that I was able to relax enough to pick up my cup without spilling it. The coffee was very hot and very strong.
"By the way," he said as he pushed his cup away, "I had Missy put arsenic in that pot in case you walked in."
I spit my coffee on the floor and started gagging. Pierce bellowed out a laugh loud enough to rattle the glasses. Then he reached over, grabbed his cup, and shotgunned his coffee down in a single gulp.
"Damn! That stuff really jump-starts the old engine."
Realizing I'd been had, I started laughing, too. "Well, then get me some more. My engine just stalled on me." Our conversation lasted for an hour and a half covering topics from past duels to the last episode of "McDade". My mechanic blew the horns on the truck outside letting me know it was time to move on. I wished Pierce luck and told him I'd see him at next year's tournament.
"Bring the Championship home to the Northeast," he yelled. That was my plan.
BLAD!
That cursed airhorn blasted again. I bade Missy farewell. Looking at her great shape and her deep blue eyes, I decided I was coming back soon. Real soon. With a running leap onto the running board, I took my position at the gunner's station, and the convoy was off.
There wasn't much action on I-95. It was Memorial Day weekend, and most people just wanted to get home alive. Nevertheless, an occasional police cruiser screamed down the highway after speed demons. A few cars were on the roadside waiting for tow trucks.
Upon arrival at the JADE bullet arena dueltrack, I was given a hero's welcome. In the crowds were signs reading, "JADE is on the move", "Ed Beat Texas", "Go, Ed, Go", and, of course, "NJ LUVS ED". The parade inside the dueltrack was very emotional for me. My fellow teammates drove their vehicles in the lead, followed by my 2013 Buick Eagle convertible with me in the back seat. My pride and joy sported metal armor all around. She had claimed three kills in her time with a 20mm articulated Mitchell Recoilless Rifle, Series 300LX--it hadn't been fired in years, but I kept it in good condition.
The 10-wheeler pulling my prize-winning car brought up the rear. It was still damaged from the autocannon blast, but I refused to have it repaired for sentimental reasons. I felt it should be preserved just the way it was when it rolled into the pit after the match. It would be put on display "as is" in our arena as JADE's first Regional crown winner.
In my moment of happiness, however, there was great fear. Fear over facing fourteen of the best duellists ever, including the reigning World Champion. I tried to put these thoughts behind me. If I didn't, failure was destined to come.
Over the next few weeks, I rested and waited for word to come through the red tape. Finally, I received word that the 2037 World Championships, which was to be held in Baltimore on 4th of July weekend, had a budget of $30,000 to build a multi-purpose car, including personal weapons. I had been hoping for a large budget so I could use a gas hog and save on weight. No such luck.
Suddenly, ideas started hitting me like anti-tank shells. I called Mitch, the mechanic who built the Can-Am, along with my brother Dan. We met at a local bar about 6:30, and by the time we left, at 2 am, the floor was littered with blueprints and cigarette butts. We tried combinations ranging from a compact with component and metal armor to a pickup with a turreted Vulcan. Finally, we decided on an Indy with an electric plant and linked micro-missile launchers with armor piercing rounds.
When the holiday weekend came, we loaded up and headed for Maryland. The New Jersey State Police gave the convoy an escort to the state border. Dan and Mitch drove point. Roy, a fellow JADE member, drove the truck with my car inside. My mother took the tailgunner position, which was a dangerous move--last time she was fined for removal of mines she had scattered over a half mile of highway. I rode shotgun for Roy.
During the entire ride through Delaware, I tried to keep my mind off the competition. I tried, but I kept worrying about the armor. Should I downgrade something to get more armor. At least, I didn't have to worry about over-confidence.
When the convoy pulled into our garage in Belair, Roy wheeled the Indy off the truck, and I called the convention center in Baltimore. The man who answered told me the tournament was "invitation only." I laughed as I introduced myself. He apologized and informed me that the tournament started at 7 pm. After hanging up, I returned to the garage's office.
Dan, dressed in camo-green body armor and battle vest, greeted me with a dedicated salute. He stood ready to guard the Indy, poised with a 9 mm automatic MP50 submachine gun in hand. It may have seemed over-dramatic, but in this business you never know who may be lurking about, stealing information or sabotaging equipment.
Roy was bent over the desk studying the blueprints. "You're going to go blind if you keep staring at that bluegraph paper," I told him.
He didn't break a smile. Instead, he turned and left the office. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a piece of paper near the plans. Roy was experimenting with downgrading the tires to pick up armor. It was a gutsy move--without solid tires, I'd have to be careful about debris. Hmmmm. I grabbed Dan and told him to give Roy the "okay" on changing the tires. It could work.
Our convoy arrived in Baltimore in the late afternoon. Dan and I wandered around the convention hall while Roy and Mitch watched the car with Mom--she wasn't going to miss this bout for anything. I spotted several people with AADA jackets and casually joined the conversation.
"Are any of you finalists?" I asked.
"I am," one responded. "Pete Hallenberg, from the Atlantic Coast."
I introduced myself, and we started discussing the regionals, last year's Championship, and the inside scuttlebutt about the other competitors. Pete took me aside, out of earshot of the others, to tell me a rumor: the At-Large entries were going to team up and pick off the rest of us one by one.
I told him with confidence that my Indy could withstand direct hits from heavy lasers and autocannons. He was impressed. We made a pact to help each other in case of trouble and to focus our attention against Montgomery, reigning World Champion, who was back for an unprecedented second title.
"Gentlemen, to your cars!" announced the PA system.
Grabbing my helmet and snapping a button, I wished Pete luck, and we parted. The race was a point system with randomly selected blue and red areas worth points. There was a big 25 point bonus for each kill. There would even be points awarded for each crewman killed in combat. This could be bloody.
The starting gun fired, and I threw Jersy Devil into gear. Right next to my starting gate was Red Six. I cruised around to an easy score. The PA announced that I had taken a 5 point lead over the rest of the competition. Unfortunately, I was now facing a wall.
As I threw the car into reverse, I heard a loud crash of metal. Montgomery had committed a head-on ram with the duellist from England--he had a metal ramplate! My heart sank as the announcement came that he had just taken the lead. Shifting to forward, I drove to the nearest blue marker.
As I sailed over Blue Twelve, Pete gave me the signal to attack Montgomery. At that moment, there was a loud explosion--a van had caught fire and it didn't have an extinguisher. In this game, they were playing for keeps.
Bringing Jersey Devil around, I saw our prey up ahead. My car rocked slightly as Vulcan rounds ricocheted off my metal armor. It was time to end the reign of terror.
Pete and I began pounding at his armor. Our attacks did little more than keep him busy holding his car steady. A cold shiver ran down my spine. I knew something was going to happen any moment.
My eyes were riveted on Montgomery's car as he turned and accelerated in my direction. I fired another round just before all went quiet. My world turned black as I heard Dan calling over the radio, "Ed! What's your status? Respond!"
It was two weeks later when I woke up. I remembered everything that had happened. My muscles were all stiff, but looking down I saw nothing was broken or set in casts. Keeping vigil at my bedside were Dan, Mitch and Roy.
I tried to smile at them. Mitch saw me moving and started cheering. Roy ran out to get Mom or the doctor or somebody. They had been worried about me, but I pulled through without a scratch.
"Ed," Dan whispered to me. "Do you remember the crash?"
I tried nodding yes. It appeared in my head vividly. I guessed they were worried about amnesia. No problem. It seemed the worst thing I had was a bad case of stiff muscles.
Dan leaned close to my ear. "Ed, they had to activate your clone. They weren't sure that they would get a good memory reading after the collision."
Suddenly, I was very tired and wanted to go back to sleep.
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