Life will never be the quite the same.

Victor and Tony arrived at mile 1100.  As Marie and I got in for the last 170 miles, the team checked the car out.  No new problems, but the paper towel/duct tape/zip tie cacoon was fraying and coming apart.  Todd wrapped a washcloth around it and zip-tied it again.  We were off.  It had to last.

First, there were 40 miles of sand whoops – up and down and up and down went our little race car, and I tried not to push it and break the suspension.  

Francisco Arredondo, last year’s winner had broken his hub.  I heard they fixed it after waiting 2 1/2 hours for help but then broke the car again.  We were in fourth place out of 12 in our class, but third was two hours ahead; unless they had a problem, we weren’t catching them.  It made it easy not to worry about them.  We stuck to our plan – don’t race – just finish.  

Other cars in our class were out of the race.  Champion Kristen Matlock, who passed me at mile 20, had broken down, got it fixed and several hours later broke down again.  She was way back but she was moving now.  Tanner told me by text from home that she was catching up and “on the move”.  I babied the car while trying to make miles as fast and smoothly as I could.  I didn’t want to break anything now!

The last section, normally fairly fast, was chewed up far worse than in pre-running.  Marie and I were getting bounced around.  Our necks hurt and our kidneys.  Yes, kidneys, from being strapped tight to a bouncing car for 16 hours.  My sleep deprivation was kicking.  We had started the race 33 hours ago and were awake 6 hours before that.  I actually woke up at midnight before the race and my mind started going and I didn’t sleep much after that.  I had one hour of sleep in the chase truck in the last 48 hours.  

We cut the darkness and forged ahead.  Suddenly we’d see deep ruts with the unmistakable texture of silt.  Silt is the worst condition in Baja.  It’s best described as ultralight dust that acts like water – it yields and “splashes” up into the air..  It can be feet deep.  It swallows even trophy trucks.  If the silt is up to your belly pan it takes the weight off your wheels and you are stuck.  

Going around it is the best option, but often it’s not an option.  I have no time to turn and avoid it, there are no optional routes.  Step on the gas and get as much momentum as you can going in.  The silt leaps into the air blinding us, over the roof, filling every cubic inch of space around and in the car (there is no windshield).  Can’t see a thing – even your own high-powered lights in front.  It’s against your instinct to keep the gas pedal down when you can’t see – but that is exactly what you have to do.  The ruts keep you on course like a slot car.

We made it. Over and over again, as did Todd, Kevin, Tony and Victor at other locations on the course.

There is an epic section called “the Waterfall” on the course.  There is no water involved.  It’s a steep downhill with 4-foot rock ledge drop-offs in it.  When you are on it you know there are about 20 miles to go to the finish.  I kept telling Marie about it and thought it had begun twice when it hadn’t.  it was dark and things look different at night.  But finally, we were on it.  It was unmistakable.

Halfway down, lights bobbed up and down the horizon in front of us.  Was it Kristen Matlock catching up behind us?  I stopped babying the car so much and drove more aggressively to stay ahead.  I have to say, both Marie and I were excited to be “racing” now.  In six more miles, I popped out onto the city road that led into the center of LaPaz.  Flagmen signaled it was safe to come out of the dirt onto the road without looking left and checking for traffic.

It was a 60 mph speed zone but there was local traffic and going 60 was a risk.  I tried.  A few miles to go and there was one big problem – I didn’t know where I was going!  I had not pre-run the last four miles of pavement into the finish. 

Early in the race, at mile 50 I lost my GPS line on the screen.  It turns out the whole course was not loaded into our GPS.  So I drove by memory and the course marker signs for 140 miles. At mile 200 the team took the chip out of the pre-run car and put it into the race car.  But we didn’t have time to go into the menus and change the color of the race line – it defaulted to a black line.  That’s fine when you are in the middle of nowhere – follow the black line.  But in a city, all the streets appeared on the screen and they were black too!  I could not tell by the GPS where the course was!

We sped down the main road looking for a sign, any indication of where to go.  Ahead were cones.  Go left?  Right?  At the last minute as we approached at 55 mph, two policemen looked up and ran to move two cones.  I guessed that race traffic was to go through them.  I darted by looking for the next indication, knowing a race vehicle was on our butt.

Two blocks later I see a flagman – I turn left, then right through a fence.  They had a little dirt track section for drama set up before the finish line for the fans, and I spewed as much dust into the air as I could for effect.  Last turn, checkered flags ahead.  We rolled up onto the podium, lit up in the night. 

Success!

The rest of our team was there waiting and cheering.  We had done it.  Finished the Baja 1000! 1226 miles on four wheels in our first attempt!  Fourth out of 12.  35 hours.  They interviewed us on the podium.  It was a moment we’ll never forget.  

The next day, after a very necessary night’s sleep, we went out for breakfast.  It took 12 hours and included coffee, water, tequila, beer, great seafood, fish tacos, and exciting stories shared.  

Audacious ideas can be crazy.  Not everything I’ve done has worked out.  But if you work smart together, communicate, plan and execute, crazy ideas can be crazy good.

Goal achieved.  Memories made. 

Life will never be quite the same.