We leave the start line first in
class, by luck of the draw, and settle in for a stress-free race. We just won
the Championship, right ? About thirty miles into the race, there is a long,
straight, flat road, known as the Well Road. Up to speed, the Old Girl was just
waiting to strech her legs after the previous technical race of Wickenburg,
where we NEVER got into third gear. After a few miles at warp speed, I decide
to see just how fast this new motor would go, putting the pedal to the metal.
Approching six grand, and somewhere around 125 mph, the alternator light comes
on. The belt had stopped turning it. A rapid de-acceleration, (in case its
gone), remove of the hood, and we find the belt on the skid plate. Just then
two class 8's pass by, one 6 foot behind the other, at 90 mph. Looked cool, but
not good for us. We jump back in, and have been down 5 minutes. We don't look
forward to chasing them down in the up-coming whooped-out sandy roads. Pretty
uneventful, but rewarding fun for the next 50 miles or so, and then we get to
an area behind a mountian that had recieved a BUNCH of rain. We negotiate the
area, slipping and sliding around, until we round the mountian back onto the
sandy (beach) side. We bounce and jump endless miles of more whooped-out sandy
roads, with a few fast sections (thankfully) thrown in. Some of it easily
followed by spectators and crews riding along the highway. Fun to watch, tough
to race on. Checkpoint 5, about 80 miles into the race, we have a planned fuel
stop. We stop, get one 11 gallon dump, and were sunk. A nearby Mexican
spectator, one of 50 watching, give us a quick jerk with a strap, and his 4X4.
We were off again, but down another 10 minutes. Forty more miles of ungodly
whooped out sandy roads, back to our main pit. We take on another 40 gallons.
Co-driver needs to pee, but decides to wait to Dan and Chrissy Winters
Checkpoint, our planned co-driver switch. New co-driver. Ten miles down the
course, we make a near-fatal mistake. The moist sand, lacking traffic use,
tells me must be off course. The co-driver points out pink ribbon? (we later
find out it was course marking from the ABANDONED course). Race cars must have
knocked down the CURRENT arrows. We turn around, and sink again. For the second
time today, I'm wishing I had a 4X4 race truck. We jack. We shovel. We worry.
If we can't get out, even the sweep won't find us a mile off course. The radio
doesn't work worth a damn over the mountain. Along comes a 1600 car, off course
too. I flag him down, and tell him he's lost. He says "Well, YOUR here !". I
know. I tell him to turn around, but be sure to send help. I'm sure he will,
he's a fellow Tucsonan. The radio starts working. I get word we are only THREE
miles from the highway. Our chase guys show up in the wifes 4X4 that we
"borrowed" for the weekend. We are saved, and on our way again, but now another
hour down. I contemplate hanging it up. A radio call to Whiplash main reveils
that we still have 3 hrs left on the time limit. I start up the Old Girl, she
snort's, and we say "Lets go for it !" There was just one small problem: we had
no lights, ( we planned on being done with a simple 250 mile race befor dark).
My chase guys head back 30 miles, to the Main pit, to borrow us a light(s) ?
Meanwhile, out on the most remote section of the course, the sun had just gone
down, and we come accross a 1600 car that had run out of gas! The two Geiser
occupants location is unknown to their team. They are soaked to the bone from
the drizzle, cold, and begged us to tow them to the highway, ten miles away.
Hell, how fast are we going to go with no lights anyway, in the next "magic"
1/2 hour of shadows ? We get them to check 4 at the highway, as the last bit of
light fades behind the mountians. The checkpoint tells us our crew is 5 minutes
away, with A light. The checkpoint work says "You really going to try to finish
?" I said "Hell Yes !" The guys show up with ONE light. We had only been at the
check 5 minutes. They tell me its raining so hard back at the Finish, they
could only go 40 mph on the highway to get there. The checkpiont worker tells
us we are the only class 8 still running AND the last car on the course. They
can't believe I would try this hard to get a win/finish. With the co-dog
HOLDING the new handheld spotlight, we head off down the course. Its drizzling
again. I'm thankful its not as bad as the rain at Snowflake was. The check
closes, as the worker says, "I'm wanna see this !" The co-driver and I take a
few miles for Me to get used to His lighting, and him to light what I need. I
pick it up, to as fast as I dare drive, as the clock is ticking. It stops
actually raining, but now its getting REALLY wet. Check Point 5. The two girls
working there, have been following this event as it happens on the radio. They
close their checkpoint after us, and join in to follow our progress. There is
radio chatter from Jeff and Jerry Huston at Check two. They too have closed
their Checkpoint and want to join in on the highway. We got us a Convoy! The
endless miles of wet sandy whoops, seem to go on FOREVER. When we do find a
flat straight, the water splashs up in front of of us, and soaks us. The
Intercom gets weird (wet) the radio doesn't work, and the co-dog's hand is
getting tired of holding the electric light in his right hand. He wipes it
clean once in a while. The clock is still ticking. Later that night, one of the
"road crew" would tell me of the awesome sight they tried to capture on film.
He said that at high speed, along fast sections of flat sand, the sandy spray
coming up from below the bed, would get illuminated by the rear target lamp,
and reminded him of TV views of a Formula One car, in the rain, only at night.
Coming to a particular flat area, easily seen from the road, the crew was
treated to a real show of driving skills. As we crossed this area that was six
inches of silt on our first pass, now had six inches of water. We enter at
around 50 mph. We hydroplane on our BFG Project tires, and begin to swap ends
NASCAR style. I recover it. The crew was happy to see it, but also happy to not
have to go out and get wet trying to tow us out ! Now I am soaked down to my
underwear. The clock is still ticking, but by now we don't ask. The last 5
miles of so, we are own our own. Out across the BIG whoops. The co-dog can
barely hold the light anymore. "Are we there yet ?" I can see the lights of the
Oasis in the distance. As we round the last turn around a chain-link fence, ALL
the Whiplash Checkpoint workers, our two chase vehicles, and a few others,
(about a dozen vehicles) have lined up along pit row with their headlights on,
and horns blaring! There's that dam Checkered Flag ! They have the generator
running, all my trailer lights on, and we climb out of the race truck soaking
wet and cold. There are still trailers and vehicles around, but most everyone
else is clear of the Oasis, and off to some of the area's many other Cantinas,
and warm hotel rooms. Then I ask the question, "Did we make it ?" I get the
answer I figured I would, but didn't want to hear. "Sorry, missed it by twenty
minutes". So, knowing we at least won the class championship, we pack up the
truck in the trailer. I was kinda like "Riding a horse hard, and putting it
away wet". As I changed into dry clothes in the trailer, before we turned off
the generator, it was now nice and warm in there from the heat of the old
workhorse, I had just put away. |
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