URHAM, N.H. - John McCain's ''Straight-Talk Express'' hit a speed bump this week but is still barreling through the Granite State toward the Republican presidential primary on Feb. 1.
No doubt Texas Governor George W. Bush's well-greased political powerhouse is a giant obstacle for McCain. But another pitfall for the Arizona senator is any hint of hypocrisy. The mere scent stirs bloodlust in the pack journalists roaming New Hampshire in this quadrennial spectacle. A good feeding frenzy or two, and McCain's fragile uprising will be ripped to shreds.
As it is, McCain appears to have weathered this week's Boston Globe report that the self-styled outsider and campaign finance reform zealot used his Senate Commerce Committee chairmanship to intercede on behalf of a major campaign contributor.
His less-varnished, self-deprecating style has generated such good will here that even undecided voters defend him against the media slings. A few more nicks, however, and that will change.
It's a strange political phenomenon. Times are good; voters should be fat and happy. But spend any time with them and you sense ferment, a belief among some Granite Staters that they can send the country a message about politics-as-usual.
On the GOP side, McCain is the vessel for their anger. On the Democratic side, it's former New Jersey senator Bill Bradley, suddenly a threat to unhorse Vice President Al Gore.
''A McCain-Bradley campaign would have a profound impact on American politics,'' said John Carroll of Durham, a University of New Hampshire professor.
''A lot of us are pretty darned tired of the Gores and the Bushes,'' said the independent, who leans toward Bradley but hasn't ruled out McCain. ''They are pawns of the establishment. They have the super endorsements and the big money, and they say what they think you want to hear.''
Of the Globe story, Carroll knows the facts but defends McCain. ''I'm not assuming the man is a saint,'' he said.
Once a McCain supporter but now not so sure, retired teacher and conservative Republican William Luti of Concord said the Arizonan ''is starting to sound more like a politician.'' At a McCain ''town meeting'' Thursday in Bow, he told the candidate he served in World War II as part of Task Force 38, under the command of McCain's grandfather, Admiral John ''Slew'' McCain.
Luti isn't bothered so much by the fund-raising allegations (''I don't expect everybody to be lily-white'') as he is by what he sees as McCain's pandering on campaign finance reform, an issue this voter thinks is peripheral, at best.
McCain's quest for the nomination is a long, long, long shot. Even if he upsets Bush in New Hampshire, this could be a short ride. Everybody associated with the campaign knows it, so they are drinking in the experience, enjoying every minute.
''We're on a great adventure,'' McCain told about 200 supporters, many of them in their late teens and 20s, after Thursday night's GOP debate at UNH. ''As long as we're not afraid of losing, we'll continue to be entertaining and informative ... I'm especially enthusiastic at the support of so many young people [boisterous cheers ... pause] several of whom have already consumed too much beer.''
Indeed, the debate party accents the difference between the Bush and McCain campaigns.
McCain's irregular crew, loose and freewheeling, gathered at Mike Libby's, a smoky downtown Durham watering hole and restaurant. The beer flowed freely.
Bush's party, at Oyster River High School in Durham, was bigger, more buttoned down. An older crowd (including Massachusetts Governor Paul Cellucci and a large Bay State contingent that was bused in) enjoyed a pep rally-like event. The drinks were alcohol-free: coffee, hot chocolate, soda.
The cash-rich Bush campaign is like a Swiss watch. A big, officious security contingent includes Texas Rangers. There are plenty of advance and press aides. At a Salem stop Thursday, they checked color-coded media credentials issued by the campaign. The candidate arrives in a plush motor home donated by a wealthy supporter from Grantham. He keeps to a tight schedule, apologizing when he has to cut short his handshaking time.
McCain's operation is a Timex. A small staff on the ground, remembering when crowds were tiny, is eager to let reporters or anyone else roam freely, credentials or not. The candidate greets all comers, takes all questioners and is often the last to leave, as he was Thursday.
That won't get him to the White House, but in New Hampshire, it will get him over an early speed bump or two.
