Blog for Day One - Vegas to Reno Best in the Desert #4435 Sacalas

Vegas To Reno: Day 1 Vegas to Tonopah - 331 race miles by Shannon Welch - Team Captain
Pre-race: Woke up at 6 am with a text from Doug Williams, our co-driver: "Rodney blew 2 tires 3 miles inside Nevada is on the 373 needsour spare." Rodney Wright was bringing Jimmy "Bud" Ponds, these two are our friends with the most mechanical ability and the only members of our crew with any racing experience. They were going to be our guides at the start and first couple of pits. Not anymore, we'll be lucky if they are caught up by pit 2. Now our totally inexperienced crew is flying solo for the start of the race. I quickly realize that our spare trailer tire is 8 lug and they need 6 lug. Someone is going to have to stay in Vegas and secure a tire while the team prepares to head to Beatty for the start of the race. I ask our friend Shelly Williams (no relation to Doug) to stay back and wait for stores to open, get a tire for our guys, and go find them. Did I mention they have no cell service and we only have a loose idea of where they are? We had to coordinate with Rodney’s wife who patiently waited til 6 am to call our race team while her husband slept on the side of the road. They didn't want to wake us before the race. Shelly was a savior she got the tire and found our broken crew while the rest of us began the trek to Beatty. The ride to Beatty was mostly uneventful with our caravan calmly making its way to the start line. A few people started calling saying they couldn't track our buggy online. After a few conversations we realize the problem is probably our covered trailer and we'll wait to see if its still a problem at the start. If so, we'll have IRC swap it out for a new one while staging. The sites and sounds in the starting area are unbelievable. Engines revving, helicopters circling. I can't help but think of a war zone with the plumes of dust and the various encampments. The smell of fuel pungent on the nose. Some teams are calm, others are scrambling. Some look so professional with matching outfits and support vehicles that look as though they were designed specifically for this race. Others look like a bunch of friends decided to tailgate before the big game. Our team is somewhere in the middle. I want to take it all in, but we have a job to do and that's get our freshly built barely tested buggy and our totally green drivers and crew through the day. Race Time: We get to the starting area an hour before the race. We think we've got plenty of time. Another example of just how little we know. We do last minute preps of the vehicle. We're taking our time. Jason and I fill the fuel tank. Oops! Somehow we over filled it and now we have fuel seeping from under the rig. Everyone quickly scrambles to clean the site. The guys start putting their gear on. We have difficulty with a stuck awning that's being used to cover the buggy. Fixing it takes up a precious 5-10 minutes of everyone's time. We are clearly unfocused. Someone says its 10:40 the guys are scheduled to leave around 11. They should go get in line. I'm disappointed I didn't do a better job of keeping track of time. I vow to do better tomorrow. The guys head to the start line and we're planning on meeting them there. No such luck! I call out over my headset asking for position. Kevin Sacalas, our head driver, calls back, "we're at the damn line!" What!? I run up to the starting line hoping to see their start and get official time. The starting line is so fast that they take off with barely their helmets on and their side nets down and try as I might to actually make it to the start, all I saw was a cloud of dust from 500 yards back. No last minute good lucks, no chance for nerves. This does not seem like a good start to the race. Hind sight being 20/20 this may have been a good thing. While they had no chance to get their head into it, they also had no chance to worry about what was to come. "We're 4.5 miles out doing OK. Something loud in the rear. Not sure what. We'll see you at pit 1." This is our first radio transmission with our buggy. Jason Leaf and I are pit crew 1. Neither of us are great mechanics but we were going to partner with Bud and Rodney. Now we're on our own for pit 1. Leaving the starting area takes forever. We wonder if our buggy is going to beat us to pit 1. We find the pit. Figure out how we're supposed to park, and wait for word from our drivers. It's hot. Well over 100 out. Its so dry, you don't even sweat that much because the air absorbs the moisture. We don't have to wait long. The guys are 5 miles out. Something loose in the rear end and they need zip ties on rags for their visors. The zip ties are to keep the rags from flying around in the buggy. So many rigs on the course have kicked up dust they have to clear their visors constantly. They pull into pit. Jason and I scramble to get them rags. Secure their camel pack (their water backpacks), as Kevin's was bouncing around the first 30 miles and he couldn't get water. Jason notices that the rear passenger sway bar has broken. We have no way to repair. We send them on to pit 2 hoping they can help as Rodney and Bud have now caught up. As the buggy is en route to pit 2 and we are headed to pit 3, the call comes over the radio, "we are overheating and need to stop we are out of the buggy and on the race course." A broken sway bar and now this? We're only an hour into the day. This does not look good. Jason and I make our way to pit 3 losing communication with the buggy and the crew with our 20+ mile separation. We wait for almost an hour with no word. Until you see it for yourself its hard to describe how desolate this part of the country is. We see signs that say "no gas for 67 miles." By 2 PM the only gas station en route to Tonopah in a small town called Goldfield is out of diesel. A few support crews are struggling to find the fuel they need to make it their next pits. We hear teams around us talking about the vehicles that have already DNFed (did not finish) for the day. We hope ours isn't one of them. One crew is sitting next to us with binoculars looking at their rig some 3 miles out in the distance. It's rolled 6 or 7 times. But rules forbid us from entering the course so the team can do nothing but wait for official race recovery vehicles to come to their drivers' aid. Fortunately their guys aren't anything more than bruised. But they are out of this race only 2 hours into it. I feel terrible for them and at the same time pray we don't experience something similar. We finally hear from the other support team. Our buggy made it out of pit 2 at 2pm just as the pit was closing. If a rig doesn't make it out of pit before it closes they are disqualified. So pit to pit is just as important as the entire day. The control arm bushings have melted again. Rodney, Bud and Sam swap them in the pit, the buggy is so hot a few of them get good burns on their hands even with gloves. These are the 6th bushings to go in a week. We clearly have a build problem but can't do much about it on the course. As for the overheating: Its 109 out I'm not sure there's many vehicles that wouldn't overheat. Hopefully the panels being removed will get more airflow to the engine and keep it cooler. They pulled off the engine panels and are now keeping them off to stop with overheating. Pit 3 closes at 3:30 the guys radio us they are 5 miles out at 2:50. We get a visual on them 2 miles out. But they are slowing down... We're confused. Then over the radio we hear "Team Viking Buggy to Viking pit 3 race car 4411 is stopped we are going to try to assist.". Our response, "Copy that Viking buggy, but you have a half an hour until pit 3 closes." After unsuccessfully trying to restart 4411 our team straps 4411 and drags them to pit. They have a bad alternator. They'd been running off the battery for the last hour. 4435 with 4411 strapped to them arrive at pit 3. We run to 4411s pit to free our guys. They leave pit 3 without service for themselves at 3:21 PM. 9 minutes before the pit closes. We scurry to help 4411's crew and get his alternator replaced and him back on the road by 3:29. The camaraderie is amazing everyone is working together to keep these guys going. Now this is starting to feel good and we're getting a bit of a groove. At pit 3 I get a call from Kory Merrill, one of our team members who helped build the rig but was unable to make the trip. He has read online that 3 cars of the 11 in our class have already DNFed for the day! I marvel at the ability of people hundreds of miles away to get data before I can. A feeling of shock and amazement hits us. We are the underdogs. We had no idea how our buggy would do, but we certainly weren't expecting 3 to be out before us. In fact, on pirate 4x4s web site there had been a poll on who in the class would win and our team had zero votes. None of us have ever done this type of racing before and we weren't the first ones out? Woo hoo! Maybe we could get through day one! We realize the polyurethane bushings in the rear upper 2 control arms need to be replaced. They aren't holding up well to the heat put out by the exhaust. We've exhaust wrapped everything we could, too. If we replace the ends with heim joints, which are all metal without polyurethane, we should be OK. Rodney and Bud head to camp to see what they can buy, beg or borrow. As we leave pit 3 Jason Leaf spots the Blue Torch fabworks truck. He thinks they might have a few spare heims so we go ask Dan from Blue Torch. Super nice guy. He gives us one to try for free. Its not exactly the right size but he tells us what we'd need to find to make it work. In return, we offer to give him some diesel from our vehicle. He had a full tank the night before and now is on empty. He's thinking someone helped themselves to his tank. You'd like to think that the people you're out here with wouldn't do that sort of thing, but there's thousands of folks out here, I guess anything is possible. Vicki Hahn, Sam Wiseman, Jon Jonsson and Mike Kennedy head to pit 4. Vicki and Sam’s crew has had to do most of the heavy pitting today, along with Bud and Rodney's help. I am grateful that they are getting it done. The guys barely make it out on time again. They are cutting it close. Unfortunately with a broken rear sway bar and blown bushings Kevin has no choice but to baby it and keep his speeds under 40 mph. This in some ways is a blessing in disguise. If the rig ran perfectly from the get go; odds are pretty good that Kevin would have pushed it to its limits. The need to keep the speed slow and steady may have helped them get their groove and go the distance. The day becomes a constant discussion of pit closing times. At every pit we calculate the numbers, it always seems to be too close. Will they make it on time? At pit 4 they are still overheating and we are now in need of a stronger radiator cap. They continue on through pits 5 and 6 without stopping to try to gain some of the time lost. So our crew just waves them on and continues to the next pit. On our way to pit 7 we pass two ambulances, a chase truck with a police escort and a helicopter following closely. A lump forms in the back of my throat. Whatever happened, it is not good. As we make our way to pit 7, which is a very remote pit with lots of silt. We feel a little bit like we’re on our own race course. We have several hours before our drivers will make it this far. At pit 7 they have to stop. They are wearing tinted visors and its now dark. So we wait patiently. About 20 minutes into our time at pit 7 we notice a quad pulling into pit. We haven’t seen a single motorcycle or quad all day. They started 4 hours ahead of us. Race officials stop the quad and tell him he’s 2 hours past pit closing for quads and he’s out of the race for the day. My heart breaks a little for this man who has traveled some 270 miles on a quad today. He tells them he’s going to continue on as he has no support at this pit. The solo riders on this course are truly inspiring and scare the hell out of me all at the same time. I try to figure out how we can help him in some way but he’s off before I get a chance. At pit 7, Shelly Williams and I walk over to ask the officials how we get tracking fixed for tomorrow and if they know anything about the ambulance we saw. They are a little dodgy about the ambulance, it’s clear they know something and don’t want to say. I ask, “well, whoever got hurt is still with us, right?” And they avoid my eyes. Not a good sign. Their response is, “we don’t like to discuss such things while the race is still going.” There’s that lump in the back of my throat again. Kory Merrill, again has more information on the race than we do. He calls and tells me that it’s only us and one other car in our class that have made it this far! How can this be? I fill with pure excitement at this news. Many of those cars and drivers have way more experience than us. Though this is the first time this class of buggy has raced in a race like this. We all have kinks to work out apparently. There will be time to contemplate that when its all over. Right now it will be tight, but our buggy may just finish day one!! Our drivers stop at pit 7 and an official asks them to take parts to a stuck vehicle that will be on their way to pit 8. The driver's happily agree to help even with our tight time line. They would want someone to do the same for them so it’s all about helping each other. I try to tell the driver’s that they are one of two teams left, but they are so focused, Doug Williams responds, “great, whatever, we gotta finish this thing, don’t care who’s in right now.” Mental note to myself, don’t share these details with the drivers while they are focused on enduring. Kory calls me back 2 minutes after our boys leave pit 7, I’m expecting more good news, but instead he says, “Car 68’s driver suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. That was what the ambulance was about” I had called him earlier to ask him if he’d heard anything. My excitement quickly turns to grief for that driver’s family and crew. “Rest in peace, driver” I think to myself as we pack up pit 7. I wonder if his family will take comfort in knowing he died doing something he loved, and hope they do. As we leave 7 all our teams decide to meet up at pit 8. This is the first time we've all seen each other since the starting line. As we approach pit 8 we begin to 2nd guess our very loose fuel calculations. Do they have enough fuel? We only had one test run with the vehicle so fuel economy is a very rough estimate. So we border on the safe side and make them stop for fuel even though they don't want to at pit 8. Kevin radios back that his gauge says he is fine. We remind him that trusting a gauge that was just installed may not be the prudent move being this close to the finish. If they made it this far we are NOT letting them miss the finish because of fuel. They stop at pit 8 and the excitement of the crew is palpable. We're almost there. We quickly fuel them and send them on their way. As we make our way from pit 8 to the finish line, instead of being able to celebrate we have to make arrangements for our next logistical challenge: the work area at camp. We have one hour to work on the rig without a time penalty and for every minute over an hour we go, we are penalized a race minute. Most of our crew makes their way to the camp area to figure out how to set up the work area while Jason and I go to the finish line to wait for our team. Finish line: Because of our hurried start in the morning we never got our tracking transponder fixed so we didn't track all day long. IRC, the company responsible for this technology is at the finish line. Our concern was that our drivers wouldn't get credit for the course because they weren't tracked. We get permission at the finish line to drive up to the finish to talk to IRC. They tell us that our rig hasn't tracked all day, but not to worry as the drivers are tracked via multiple methods (rfid and check points). They will fix the problem just as soon as our drivers get in. Jason and I wait impatiently at the finish line. We keep counting the number of lights on the vehicles in the distance. Looking for our 3 eyed monster. A few times we are hopeful its the right one until it gets close enough to see that its not our headlight pattern. The team back at camp radios that they have the work area set up. Its 9:55. Our team has 20 minutes until the race ends. Even if they get in by 10 we won't be done working until well after 11 pm. No one has had a chance to stop since 7AM. I am in awe of my best friends who are now our support crew. Not one of them has hesitated to do what is needed. Even now after 15 hot stressful hours, they are still busting their butts. I truly have some of the greatest friends in the world. Our drivers can’t exit the vehicle until they drop the car in the work area, so the sooner we are ready, the sooner our drivers can get out of the rig. At 9:59 we get the radio transmission, "Viking to pit, we are one point five miles from the finish". Jason and I see the three lights in a triangle that tell us its our team. My heart jumps. I want to go wrap my arms around the entire buggy and it’s occupants. The buggy, the boys, they are in safe, We made it through day one. Jason and I get yelled at for being on a live course (even though we were given permission to be there to talk to IRC) so we go back down to wait in the “free zone” which is the area where the driver’s get their time card for work area. We are allowed to bring the driver’s water and food in this area and talk to them about repairs but we cannot touch the vehicle. I stand at the edge of the free zone with water in my hands. It’s pitch black out, and I’m being illuminated and blinded by the bright lights on the fronts of several race cars waiting patiently for their teams to set up their work area a mile away. I step into the free zone to hand Kevin a cold drink. I am told I need to step back from the line. He needs to come to me. I can’t go to him. With the lights on me, and the inability to cross from one area into another, I make a comment that I feel like I’m trying to cross into East Germany. Only the old timers around the gate laugh at my reference. But it does feel that way. I can see my friends 20 yards away but cannot hug them or give them cold water. Kevin limps towards me and gets his bottle of water. I radio to Doug that he’ll have to get out of the rig to get some as I can’t bring it to him. One of the officials takes pity on me and says he'd be happy to deliver the drinks to him. I walk up behind Kevin who is sitting in a chair getting his time ticket. I lean over the tape and rub his shoulder. Somehow touching him helps it sink in that they really are back; safe and sound. Eventually they release our drivers into the work area. Work Area: We join our crew, and they have it well set up. We have a gas generator powering two lights so we can see what we’re doing. Rodney and Bud were able to acquire some Heim joints which I believe they paid $100 a piece for. We will have to settle up on costs after the race. Our most mechanical crew begin work on the essential links that need to be fixed. I do the things I can. Swap out air filters and parker pumps (the air filter system that feeds fresh air into the drivers helmets.) I notice Kevin is limping and I ask him what hurts. His driving shoes have rubbed his heel raw from the constant movement of his right foot from gas to brake. We need to make sure next race we make the driving position more comfortable. He sits down in a chair and we put his foot up on a cooler and ice his heel as he watches us climb on, under and over his vehicle. He was the head designer and mechanic, so we can’t send him to bed. His knowledge of the vehicle is crucial. Doug and Kevin help where they can, but try to rest in some camp chairs and drink some water and eat as we scurry to get things done. Everyone is going at full speed running on nothing but adrenaline. It’s now 11:30 at night and I’m pretty sure none of us has eaten in almost 12 hours. We are filthy. I have the smell of gasoline on my hands. I look around at our crew, they are all giving everything they have. The smell of gas is nothing compared to the cuts, bruises and burns our main mechanics have gotten from keeping this buggy going. We pass our hour mark. We’re now into time penalty mode. We don’t really care though. Our goal is to get this buggy to day 3. So time is not as important to us as a running buggy. 40 minutes late, we send the buggy and our drivers to the impound area where the vehicle cannot be touched again until morning. So we better have everything done or they won’t be able to start tomorrow. Camp Adventure: We head back to camp adventure. Wow, RVs one on top of another. Imagine 700+ RVs in a high school parking lot. There is no privacy, there is no quiet. We hastily eat some food. I think it was fajitas. A few of us shower. We pull all of the gear out of the trailers to make room to sleep. Our support vehicles now need to become sleeping quarters. Unfortunately, some last minute sleeping arrangements need to be made. Everyone tries to help each other out through the exhaustion. We realize some of the support vehicles can’t be slept in as they have been housing fuel cans all day, and the amount of energy to make them into sleeping quarters just isn't going to happen. The drivers are exhausted, they quickly fall asleep in their trailer and the support crew quickly follows suit. It’s 1:30 in the morning and we have to start this all over again in 7 hours. I contemplate how much the body and mind is able to endure and wonder if we've got what it takes to make it to day 3. Days 2 and 3 to follow…

Vegas To Reno: Day 1 Vegas to Tonopah - 331 race miles
by Shannon Welch - Team Captain

Pre-race:
Woke up at 6 am with a text from Doug Williams, our co-driver: "Rodney blew 2 tires 3 miles inside Nevada is on the 373 needsour spare." Rodney Wright was bringing Jimmy "Bud" Ponds, these two are our friends with the most mechanical ability and the only members of our crew with any racing experience. They were going to be our guides at the start and first couple of pits. Not anymore, we'll be lucky if they are caught up by pit 2. Now our totally inexperienced crew is flying solo for the start of the race.

I quickly realize that our spare trailer tire is 8 lug and they need 6 lug. Someone is going to have to stay in Vegas and secure a tire while the team prepares to head to Beatty for the start of the race. I ask our friend Shelly Williams (no relation to Doug) to stay back and wait for stores to open, get a tire for our guys, and go find them. Did I mention they have no cell service and we only have a loose idea of where they are? We had to coordinate with Rodney’s wife who patiently waited til 6 am to call our race team while her husband slept on the side of the road. They didn't want to wake us before the race. Shelly was a savior she got the tire and found our broken crew while the rest of us began the trek to Beatty.

The ride to Beatty was mostly uneventful with our caravan calmly making its way to the start line. A few people started calling saying they couldn't track our buggy online. After a few conversations we realize the problem is probably our covered trailer and we'll wait to see if its still a problem at the start. If so, we'll have IRC swap it out for a new one while staging.

The sites and sounds in the starting area are unbelievable. Engines revving, helicopters circling. I can't help but think of a war zone with the plumes of dust and the various encampments. The smell of fuel pungent on the nose. Some teams are calm, others are scrambling. Some look so professional with matching outfits and support vehicles that look as though they were designed specifically for this race. Others look like a bunch of friends decided to tailgate before the big game. Our team is somewhere in the middle. I want to take it all in, but we have a job to do and that's get our freshly built barely tested buggy and our totally green drivers and crew through the day.

Race Time:
We get to the starting area an hour before the race. We think we've got plenty of time. Another example of just how little we know. We do last minute preps of the vehicle. We're taking our time. Jason and I fill the fuel tank. Oops! Somehow we over filled it and now we have fuel seeping from under the rig. Everyone quickly scrambles to clean the site. The guys start putting their gear on. We have difficulty with a stuck awning that's being used to cover the buggy. Fixing it takes up a precious 5-10 minutes of everyone's time. We are clearly unfocused. Someone says its 10:40 the guys are scheduled to leave around 11. They should go get in line. I'm disappointed I didn't do a better job of keeping track of time. I vow to do better tomorrow.

The guys head to the start line and we're planning on meeting them there. No such luck! I call out over my headset asking for position. Kevin Sacalas, our head driver, calls back, "we're at the damn line!" What!? I run up to the starting line hoping to see their start and get official time. The starting line is so fast that they take off with barely their helmets on and their side nets down and try as I might to actually make it to the start, all I saw was a cloud of dust from 500 yards back. No last minute good lucks, no chance for nerves. This does not seem like a good start to the race. Hind sight being 20/20 this may have been a good thing. While they had no chance to get their head into it, they also had no chance to worry about what was to come.

"We're 4.5 miles out doing OK. Something loud in the rear. Not sure what. We'll see you at pit 1." This is our first radio transmission with our buggy. Jason Leaf and I are pit crew 1. Neither of us are great mechanics but we were going to partner with Bud and Rodney. Now we're on our own for pit 1. Leaving the starting area takes forever. We wonder if our buggy is going to beat us to pit 1. We find the pit. Figure out how we're supposed to park, and wait for word from our drivers. It's hot. Well over 100 out. Its so dry, you don't even sweat that much because the air absorbs the moisture.

We don't have to wait long. The guys are 5 miles out. Something loose in the rear end and they need zip ties on rags for their visors. The zip ties are to keep the rags from flying around in the buggy. So many rigs on the course have kicked up dust they have to clear their visors constantly.

They pull into pit. Jason and I scramble to get them rags. Secure their camel pack (their water backpacks), as Kevin's was bouncing around the first 30 miles and he couldn't get water. Jason notices that the rear passenger sway bar has broken. We have no way to repair. We send them on to pit 2 hoping they can help as Rodney and Bud have now caught up.

As the buggy is en route to pit 2 and we are headed to pit 3, the call comes over the radio, "we are overheating and need to stop we are out of the buggy and on the race course." A broken sway bar and now this? We're only an hour into the day. This does not look good. Jason and I make our way to pit 3 losing communication with the buggy and the crew with our 20+ mile separation. We wait for almost an hour with no word. Until you see it for yourself its hard to describe how desolate this part of the country is. We see signs that say "no gas for 67 miles." By 2 PM the only gas station en route to Tonopah in a small town called Goldfield is out of diesel. A few support crews are struggling to find the fuel they need to make it their next pits.

We hear teams around us talking about the vehicles that have already DNFed (did not finish) for the day. We hope ours isn't one of them. One crew is sitting next to us with binoculars looking at their rig some 3 miles out in the distance. It's rolled 6 or 7 times. But rules forbid us from entering the course so the team can do nothing but wait for official race recovery vehicles to come to their drivers' aid. Fortunately their guys aren't anything more than bruised. But they are out of this race only 2 hours into it. I feel terrible for them and at the same time pray we don't experience something similar.

We finally hear from the other support team. Our buggy made it out of pit 2 at 2pm just as the pit was closing. If a rig doesn't make it out of pit before it closes they are disqualified. So pit to pit is just as important as the entire day. The control arm bushings have melted again. Rodney, Bud and Sam swap them in the pit, the buggy is so hot a few of them get good burns on their hands even with gloves. These are the 6th bushings to go in a week. We clearly have a build problem but can't do much about it on the course.

As for the overheating: Its 109 out I'm not sure there's many vehicles that wouldn't overheat. Hopefully the panels being removed will get more airflow to the engine and keep it cooler. They pulled off the engine panels and are now keeping them off to stop with overheating.

Pit 3 closes at 3:30 the guys radio us they are 5 miles out at 2:50. We get a visual on them 2 miles out. But they are slowing down... We're confused. Then over the radio we hear "Team Viking Buggy to Viking pit 3 race car 4411 is stopped we are going to try to assist.". Our response, "Copy that Viking buggy, but you have a half an hour until pit 3 closes."

After unsuccessfully trying to restart 4411 our team straps 4411 and drags them to pit. They have a bad alternator. They'd been running off the battery for the last hour. 4435 with 4411 strapped to them arrive at pit 3. We run to 4411s pit to free our guys. They leave pit 3 without service for themselves at 3:21 PM. 9 minutes before the pit closes. We scurry to help 4411's crew and get his alternator replaced and him back on the road by 3:29. The camaraderie is amazing everyone is working together to keep these guys going. Now this is starting to feel good and we're getting a bit of a groove.

At pit 3 I get a call from Kory Merrill, one of our team members who helped build the rig but was unable to make the trip. He has read online that 3 cars of the 11 in our class have already DNFed for the day! I marvel at the ability of people hundreds of miles away to get data before I can. A feeling of shock and amazement hits us. We are the underdogs. We had no idea how our buggy would do, but we certainly weren't expecting 3 to be out before us. In fact, on pirate 4x4s web site there had been a poll on who in the class would win and our team had zero votes. None of us have ever done this type of racing before and we weren't the first ones out? Woo hoo! Maybe we could get through day one!

We realize the polyurethane bushings in the rear upper 2 control arms need to be replaced. They aren't holding up well to the heat put out by the exhaust. We've exhaust wrapped everything we could, too. If we replace the ends with heim joints, which are all metal without polyurethane, we should be OK. Rodney and Bud head to camp to see what they can buy, beg or borrow. As we leave pit 3 Jason Leaf spots the Blue Torch fabworks truck. He thinks they might have a few spare heims so we go ask Dan from Blue Torch. Super nice guy. He gives us one to try for free. Its not exactly the right size but he tells us what we'd need to find to make it work. In return, we offer to give him some diesel from our vehicle. He had a full tank the night before and now is on empty. He's thinking someone helped themselves to his tank. You'd like to think that the people you're out here with wouldn't do that sort of thing, but there's thousands of folks out here, I guess anything is possible.

Vicki Hahn, Sam Wiseman, Jon Jonsson and Mike Kennedy head to pit 4. Vicki and Sam’s crew has had to do most of the heavy pitting today, along with Bud and Rodney's help. I am grateful that they are getting it done. The guys barely make it out on time again. They are cutting it close.

Unfortunately with a broken rear sway bar and blown bushings Kevin has no choice but to baby it and keep his speeds under 40 mph. This in some ways is a blessing in disguise. If the rig ran perfectly from the get go; odds are pretty good that Kevin would have pushed it to its limits. The need to keep the speed slow and steady may have helped them get their groove and go the distance. The day becomes a constant discussion of pit closing times. At every pit we calculate the numbers, it always seems to be too close. Will they make it on time? At pit 4 they are still overheating and we are now in need of a stronger radiator cap. They continue on through pits 5 and 6 without stopping to try to gain some of the time lost. So our crew just waves them on and continues to the next pit.

On our way to pit 7 we pass two ambulances, a chase truck with a police escort and a helicopter following closely. A lump forms in the back of my throat. Whatever happened, it is not good. As we make our way to pit 7, which is a very remote pit with lots of silt. We feel a little bit like we’re on our own race course. We have several hours before our drivers will make it this far. At pit 7 they have to stop. They are wearing tinted visors and its now dark. So we wait patiently. About 20 minutes into our time at pit 7 we notice a quad pulling into pit. We haven’t seen a single motorcycle or quad all day. They started 4 hours ahead of us. Race officials stop the quad and tell him he’s 2 hours past pit closing for quads and he’s out of the race for the day. My heart breaks a little for this man who has traveled some 270 miles on a quad today. He tells them he’s going to continue on as he has no support at this pit. The solo riders on this course are truly inspiring and scare the hell out of me all at the same time. I try to figure out how we can help him in some way but he’s off before I get a chance.

At pit 7, Shelly Williams and I walk over to ask the officials how we get tracking fixed for tomorrow and if they know anything about the ambulance we saw. They are a little dodgy about the ambulance, it’s clear they know something and don’t want to say. I ask, “well, whoever got hurt is still with us, right?” And they avoid my eyes. Not a good sign. Their response is, “we don’t like to discuss such things while the race is still going.” There’s that lump in the back of my throat again.

Kory Merrill, again has more information on the race than we do. He calls and tells me that it’s only us and one other car in our class that have made it this far! How can this be? I fill with pure excitement at this news. Many of those cars and drivers have way more experience than us. Though this is the first time this class of buggy has raced in a race like this. We all have kinks to work out apparently. There will be time to contemplate that when its all over. Right now it will be tight, but our buggy may just finish day one!!

Our drivers stop at pit 7 and an official asks them to take parts to a stuck vehicle that will be on their way to pit 8. The driver's happily agree to help even with our tight time line. They would want someone to do the same for them so it’s all about helping each other. I try to tell the driver’s that they are one of two teams left, but they are so focused, Doug Williams responds, “great, whatever, we gotta finish this thing, don’t care who’s in right now.” Mental note to myself, don’t share these details with the drivers while they are focused on enduring.

Kory calls me back 2 minutes after our boys leave pit 7, I’m expecting more good news, but instead he says, “Car 68’s driver suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. That was what the ambulance was about” I had called him earlier to ask him if he’d heard anything. My excitement quickly turns to grief for that driver’s family and crew. “Rest in peace, driver” I think to myself as we pack up pit 7. I wonder if his family will take comfort in knowing he died doing something he loved, and hope they do.

As we leave 7 all our teams decide to meet up at pit 8. This is the first time we've all seen each other since the starting line. As we approach pit 8 we begin to 2nd guess our very loose fuel calculations. Do they have enough fuel? We only had one test run with the vehicle so fuel economy is a very rough estimate. So we border on the safe side and make them stop for fuel even though they don't want to at pit 8. Kevin radios back that his gauge says he is fine. We remind him that trusting a gauge that was just installed may not be the prudent move being this close to the finish. If they made it this far we are NOT letting them miss the finish because of fuel.

They stop at pit 8 and the excitement of the crew is palpable. We're almost there. We quickly fuel them and send them on their way. As we make our way from pit 8 to the finish line, instead of being able to celebrate we have to make arrangements for our next logistical challenge: the work area at camp. We have one hour to work on the rig without a time penalty and for every minute over an hour we go, we are penalized a race minute. Most of our crew makes their way to the camp area to figure out how to set up the work area while Jason and I go to the finish line to wait for our team.

Finish line:
Because of our hurried start in the morning we never got our tracking transponder fixed so we didn't track all day long. IRC, the company responsible for this technology is at the finish line. Our concern was that our drivers wouldn't get credit for the course because they weren't tracked.

We get permission at the finish line to drive up to the finish to talk to IRC. They tell us that our rig hasn't tracked all day, but not to worry as the drivers are tracked via multiple methods (rfid and check points). They will fix the problem just as soon as our drivers get in. Jason and I wait impatiently at the finish line. We keep counting the number of lights on the vehicles in the distance. Looking for our 3 eyed monster. A few times we are hopeful its the right one until it gets close enough to see that its not our headlight pattern.

The team back at camp radios that they have the work area set up. Its 9:55. Our team has 20 minutes until the race ends. Even if they get in by 10 we won't be done working until well after 11 pm. No one has had a chance to stop since 7AM. I am in awe of my best friends who are now our support crew. Not one of them has hesitated to do what is needed. Even now after 15 hot stressful hours, they are still busting their butts. I truly have some of the greatest friends in the world. Our drivers can’t exit the vehicle until they drop the car in the work area, so the sooner we are ready, the sooner our drivers can get out of the rig.

At 9:59 we get the radio transmission, "Viking to pit, we are one point five miles from the finish". Jason and I see the three lights in a triangle that tell us its our team. My heart jumps. I want to go wrap my arms around the entire buggy and it’s occupants. The buggy, the boys, they are in safe, We made it through day one. Jason and I get yelled at for being on a live course (even though we were given permission to be there to talk to IRC) so we go back down to wait in the “free zone” which is the area where the driver’s get their time card for work area. We are allowed to bring the driver’s water and food in this area and talk to them about repairs but we cannot touch the vehicle.

I stand at the edge of the free zone with water in my hands. It’s pitch black out, and I’m being illuminated and blinded by the bright lights on the fronts of several race cars waiting patiently for their teams to set up their work area a mile away. I step into the free zone to hand Kevin a cold drink. I am told I need to step back from the line. He needs to come to me. I can’t go to him. With the lights on me, and the inability to cross from one area into another, I make a comment that I feel like I’m trying to cross into East Germany. Only the old timers around the gate laugh at my reference. But it does feel that way. I can see my friends 20 yards away but cannot hug them or give them cold water. Kevin limps towards me and gets his bottle of water. I radio to Doug that he’ll have to get out of the rig to get some as I can’t bring it to him. One of the officials takes pity on me and says he'd be happy to deliver the drinks to him.

I walk up behind Kevin who is sitting in a chair getting his time ticket. I lean over the tape and rub his shoulder. Somehow touching him helps it sink in that they really are back; safe and sound. Eventually they release our drivers into the work area.

Work Area:
We join our crew, and they have it well set up. We have a gas generator powering two lights so we can see what we’re doing. Rodney and Bud were able to acquire some Heim joints which I believe they paid $100 a piece for. We will have to settle up on costs after the race. Our most mechanical crew begin work on the essential links that need to be fixed. I do the things I can. Swap out air filters and parker pumps (the air filter system that feeds fresh air into the drivers helmets.) I notice Kevin is limping and I ask him what hurts. His driving shoes have rubbed his heel raw from the constant movement of his right foot from gas to brake. We need to make sure next race we make the driving position more comfortable. He sits down in a chair and we put his foot up on a cooler and ice his heel as he watches us climb on, under and over his vehicle. He was the head designer and mechanic, so we can’t send him to bed. His knowledge of the vehicle is crucial. Doug and Kevin help where they can, but try to rest in some camp chairs and drink some water and eat as we scurry to get things done. Everyone is going at full speed running on nothing but adrenaline. It’s now 11:30 at night and I’m pretty sure none of us has eaten in almost 12 hours. We are filthy. I have the smell of gasoline on my hands. I look around at our crew, they are all giving everything they have. The smell of gas is nothing compared to the cuts, bruises and burns our main mechanics have gotten from keeping this buggy
going.

We pass our hour mark. We’re now into time penalty mode. We don’t really care though. Our goal is to get this buggy to day 3. So time is not as important to us as a running buggy. 40 minutes late, we send the buggy and our drivers to the impound area where the vehicle cannot be touched again until morning. So we better have everything done or they won’t be able to start tomorrow.

Camp Adventure:
We head back to camp adventure. Wow, RVs one on top of another. Imagine 700+ RVs in a high school parking lot. There is no privacy, there is no quiet. We hastily eat some food. I think it was fajitas. A few of us shower. We pull all of the gear out of the trailers to make room to sleep. Our support vehicles now need to become sleeping quarters. Unfortunately, some last minute sleeping arrangements need to be made. Everyone tries to help each other out through the exhaustion. We realize some of the support vehicles can’t be slept in as they have been housing fuel cans all day, and the amount of energy to make them into sleeping quarters just isn't going to happen.

The drivers are exhausted, they quickly fall asleep in their trailer and the support crew quickly follows suit. It’s 1:30 in the morning and we have to start this all over again in 7 hours. I contemplate how much the body and mind is able to endure and wonder if we've got what it takes to make it to day 3.

Days 2 and 3 to follow…