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| The team established another Jeepspeed record by finishing every race for three years in a row. That"s 15 races in a row without a D.N.F. (Did Not Finish) since the vehicle was built. |
After exiting the worst, rockiest portion of the course, our #1717 Jeep suddenly became loud. Not just loud, but WAY loud. It was an exhaust problem, and it was bad. I pulled over and Reiter jumped out to do a quick damage assessment. The header had broken off above the exhaust flange and the exhaust system was "lawn darted" in the ground, and oh yeah, the oxygen sensor is gone.
Thinking that the race promoter would call the race at the end of the third lap due to time restraints, Josh and I felt that we had two options, shut it down and remove the diseased portions and watch Hartman and Wacker go by, or go for it, and hope that the dangling pipe wouldn"t pole-vault itself through the floorboard and into the fuel cell, causing a fiery ball of glory. We shook hands. That"s the only communication that was needed. This was it, only fifteen miles to go. But wait; as we approached the start finish line, we were waved through the start line to start the fourth lap. We didn"t plan a fourth lap.
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| The team finished second in points for the five race season. Nine points short. It was their second season ending up in the top three podium finishes. |
We hadn"t paced ourselves for a fourth lap and the course had become so chewed up after three laps. Did we have enough race car left? We stopped in the pits for more fuel and to have the remains of the exhaust system removed, but the desert had already performed that "maintenance project" for us. So off we went, demoralized, physically, and mentally spent, thinking that we were going to win at the end of the third lap. Now we had to really hunker down and "get-r-done" with Hartman and Wacker breathing down our necks.
The fourth and final lap started out fast, but we soon discovered that the course had changed and had become so deteriorated and so chewed up from all the vehicles that we had to slow the pace down. If we tried to run at the same speed as the previous laps we would surely destroy the little uni-body station wagon.
We had been on a fast course earlier but didn"t have the visibility, now we could see but didn"t have the course to go fast.
At course marker "Mile 8" a course worker held up a sign that said, "NEXT RACE HAS STARTED." That was not good news. That meant that the big boys had left the line. The Trick Trucks, the Class 1"s, the Class 8"s, all the fast guys were on their way, and they had their own agenda, and it didn"t include anyone getting in their way. We picked up the pace, a dangerous pace, thrashing the Cherokee, hoping to finish the lap before they caught us. It was a nice ambitious thought, but at mile 28 Josh franticly began flailing his arms and hitting me in the ribs to get my attention. Remember, we had no way of talking to each other.
I knew what that meant and began to move to the right side of the course. But the rocks on the sides of the course were much bigger than the ones in the course, so moving over, slowing down, and avoiding the big ones was a challenge in itself. We heard a siren from behind us and in a split second the first Trick Truck with Andy McMillen at the wheel sped by. The plume of dust left behind from that one truck was thicker than anything we had driven through all day. When is it safe to get back on the course? You can"t just sit there. You"ll get creamed. Josh looked behind and motioned to go. Another thirty seconds later and it was de-ja-vu. Again and again like a freight train, truck after truck. It got worse as the terrain changed, the areas to pull over became narrower and narrower, and the dust once again became thicker and thicker. The glorious thoughts of winning had long left both of our helmeted heads. The only thing we could think about was finishing, and surviving in one piece. Intense is putting it mildly.
As the finish line approached, our two beaten down warrior"s spirits were lifted as we entered the pit area for the last time. The cheering crowds of friends, crewmembers, sponsors, and fellow competitors broke the "survival trance" and reality set in. We did it! It was over! We won!
We sat in the Jeep and waited our turn to drive up on the "podium" and give a victory speech.
We didn"t say much to each other. We just exchanged glances. We both knew we had survived a battle and won the war. During the race we couldn"t talk to each other, and now after the race, we didn"t need to... words between us were not required.
Sidebar:
If you think you"re ready to go racing and you"re on a tight budget check out www.jeepspeed.com for class rules and schedules. Then visit any Four Wheel Parts retail store to purchase everything you need.
