Sowerby movie premiers

I was standing on 59th Street in New York City in sweltering heat. My wife, Lisa, rested a clammy hand on my shoulder while a bead of nervous sweat dripped down my face.

Every Boy Scout knot I used to know, from a sheepshank to a round-turn-and-two-and-a-half-hitches, tightened in the pit of my stomach.

It wasn't the pulse of the concrete jungle that was getting to us. No, the source of our bile attack was the milling crowd in front of the Clearview Cinema with New York International Film Festival plastered across its marquee.

It was nearing 2 p.m., which was precisely the time when "No Borders," the 50-minute documentary film we had worked on for three years would be screened in front of the waiting throng. The expectant patrons seemed like a serious lot. And the slate of competitive films such as "Broke Even," "Pay the Price" and "A Life Worth Living" did little to ease our apprehension.

Even though "No Borders" had won an award for creative excellence at the U.S. International Independent Film and Video Festival in Chicago, this was the first time Lisa and I would view the film in the presence of more than a couple of relatives who were blood-bound to sit through it and react. We were literally minutes away from the Big Screen in the Big Apple with a theater full of film-festival groupies.

No going back. We wiped our brows, donned our hippest, grooviest attitudes and crossed the street. The doors opened, tickets were collected and the crowd gathered around the concession stand. This was the real thing, popcorn and all.

Lisa and I walked stone-faced past the concession, figuring candy wouldn't be a good idea considering the condition of our stomachs.

"What if they don't laugh at the funny parts?" I nervously whispered to Lisa.

"What if they leave after it starts?" she replied.

As we settled into our seats, my heart was pounding. Then, that familiar music we had heard so many late nights during production blasted through the theater like an old friend coming to our rescue.

Panoramic opening scenes from Calcutta, India; Istanbul, Turkey; and Tuva (near Mongolia) filled the huge silver screen. I cringed when my twangy, nasal voice narrated the first few minutes outlining the 14-day driving adventure upon which 10 couples from as many countries were about to embark.

The audience was quiet as they were introduced to a Turkish palace renovator, a Canadian billiards supply mogul, a Tuvan throat singer and a Mexican race car driver. As scenes of a French chiropractor, a Guatemalan school teacher and an Israeli fashion designer flashed across the screen, sound bites of their accents provided the feel of an international "who-dunnit?" flick.

During production, we had worried that the information load at the beginning of the film was where we might lose some of the audience. But they seemed hooked on every detail as the concept played itself out in the opening scenes. (You can watch the film at www.wheelbase.ws/noborders).

Detroit to Beverly Hills. Two weeks on the road armed with spanking new V-8 Oldsmobile Auroras, bags full of travel accessories and a list of 500 attractions. At six lavish en route dinner parties, competitors boasted of their exploits and plotted strategies for the next leg in their bids to out-vacation each other.

When Bulent Güngor of Team Turkey explained how his wife, Merih, had turned white when a Michigan state trooper handed him a $400 speeding ticket, the audience broke up. When Team India's Saloo Choudhury talked about the dirty look he received from Team Guatemala as he passed its car, there was another round of laughter.

And when a participant hypothesized that the majestically carved Mount Rushmore was " ... more impressive actually here than when you see it on TV," the audience lost it.

It seemed apparent to the viewers that the tale of international camaraderie with a touch of road gonzo was well- worth sitting through. That had been our intent in producing the film and the reaction of the audience was a relief.

The Vacation Challengers delighted the audience as they swapped stories of backroads and bar rooms, of imposters and exotic dancers, state troopers and rustic geezers.

Some got lost. A few got cranky. But in the end, it was the spectacular sights unfolding through their windshields and the memorable roadside encounters that glued the unlikely competitors, and the film, together.

As the credits rolled, there was heartening applause. Dregs of laughter were still erupting when the house lights came up.

Then, as Lisa and I got ready to slip out of the theater, we heard it from somewhere out in the audience.

"Are the filmmakers in the house?"

Garry Sowerby, author of "Sowerby's Road: Adventures of a Driven Mind," is a four-time Guinness World Record holder for long-distance driving. His exploits, good, bad and just plain harrowing, are the subject of World Odyssey, produced in conjunction with Wheelbase Communications. Wheelbase is a worldwide provider of automotive news and features stories.