Wednesday, 4:00 amBeep. Beep. Beep. Crash. The sound of semis meeting loading docks has probably been echoing through the shop all night. This one wakes me up. I'm cold, sweaty and sticky. I try to stand up but my legs are asleep. Two hours ago I was chasing electrons through the tangle of wiring that is my dashboard when the exhaustion caught up with me. I fell asleep in the driver's seat, hunched over a wiring diagram.
As the blood filters back into my legs, I clamor over the roll cage and stagger to the couch, lay the wiring diagram on my chest, and go back to sleep. The accommodations aren't exactly four star, but hey, that's rallying.
Thursday, 7:00 pm Tech inspectionA season and a half of rallying has taken its toll on this poor old car. Getting through tech is always fraught with peril. It helps that most of the local tech inspectors are familiar with the car. They know, for example, that 30-year-old Datsun steering is supposed to feel broken and that a replacement for the windshield I broke during the rollover at the Prescott Forest Rally is impossible to find. They kindly ignore the cracks.
If this were road racing, I'd be kicked out for any one of the beater's hundreds of mechanical and cosmetic maladies. But this is rallying. With no door-to-door racing, there's little worry my mechanical problems will wreck somebody else's car. Here the scrutiny is saved for the safety equipment. Everything else is between us and the road.
Friday, 10:30 amStage 1There's always some snow at this rally, and this year the roads are supposed to be covered. But a week ago, I decided eating was more important than spending my last dollar on snow tires. Staring at the brown lump of a Cliff Bar I've been munching, I begin to regret that decision. As we unload the car from the trailer, the road is only lightly dusted, but on the half-mile transit to the stage, the road goes from dirt to dirty snow to thick, hard-packed white stuff.
Last year, these same stages were covered with mud. But despite an open differential and worn-out tires, we ended up being the fastest two-wheel-drive car. I latch onto that memory for a little comfort. This year I have four times the experience, brand-new Kuhmo rally tires and 40 more hp. What's so scary about a little snow?
This comfort doesn't last long.
At the start, I let out the clutch but nothing happens. The tires spin for eternity before the car inches forward. Tip-toeing on the pedals, being as delicate as possible, I do all I can to get up to speed. By the end of the first 2-mile straight, we're only lugging along in fifth gear at about 40 mph, tires still spinning. I have almost no directional control.
Agonizingly slow, sure, but experience tells me we're not the only ones fighting the elements. Some of the least exciting stages turn out to be the fastest.
Experience also tells me that when the clapped-out '72 Celica that started a minute behind you starts flashing its lights in your mirror, you're having a bad rally. My last shred of optimism evaporates as I squeeze over to the side of the road to let Dennis Chizma and Paul Timmerman's rat-infested rust pile pass. Chizma is a fast driver, but this doesn't seem right. We'll later learn Chizma brought snow tires and Timmerman filled the trunk with rock salt.
Last night we were returning champions. Suddenly we're the hopeless underdogs. Hero to zero in less than one stage. That's rallying.
Friday, 10:41 amTransit to Stage 2Last year it was so muddy here, Rhys Millen and I almost collided head-on on this transit. We came so close I could see the goofy grin on his face. Fate put us on the same collision course this year, but there are no grins in either car. Turns out he didn't bring snow tires either.
Friday, 10:45 amStage 2 control zone.Swerving to a stop to avoid hitting Millen would be the last move I'd make for 20 minutes. Sitting on a very slight incline, we're spinning tires again. Ryan Cavalier, my latest in a string of navigators, has never been in a rally. He's about to learn how much pushing is involved. The pushing doesn't work, so I make him jump in the trunk. Then I get out and push. The tires are still spinning with the car idling in first gear. Nothing works.
Our time card is due at the time control. With the car stuck, Ryan delivers it by hand. Now we're officially in the control zone, and not allowed to work on the car. With less than five minutes to our start time, however, I have no choice. Risking a penalty, I try putting on chains.
They Don't Fit.
Throughout this ordeal, I watch countless other two-wheel-drive cars spin their tires, but no one else is stuck. The only difference I see is that we're the only car on Kuhmo gravel tires. Looking at the Kuhmos' big soft tread blocks, it starts to make sense. Each block is polished smooth and slippery from spinning. There aren't enough edges left to grab the snow. We have two tired, used Michelins for spares. They have smaller tread blocks and more edges, plus they're covered with tiny cuts from hundreds of miles of racing through gravel. The cuts, I'm hoping, will mimic the sipes on a snow tire.
It works. We get to the start late, but we're assigned a new minute. Before long, we're inching up the road. We're wet, our hands are numb and we're sweating in our Nomex underwear, but we're still rallying.
Friday, 11:10 amMiddle of Stage 2Less than five minutes of racing and we're stuck again. There's a hard right ahead, then a steep, bumpy hill. Six or seven cars are taking turns driving halfway up the hill and sliding back down. It looks hopeless, but every 10 minutes or so somebody does make it to the top. It takes several tries and five or six people pushing to get each car up the hill. After a few solo tries, we pull over and help push a few other cars. Then it's our turn. With four panting co-drivers on our rear bumper, we bounce to the top.
It's not every sport where your competition helps you finish, but there's a common bond among rallyists which transcends competition. I think it's called insanity.
At the top of the hill, I'm afraid to stop for fear of getting stuck again. I can't even let go of the wheel long enough to put on my harness. I manage the lap belt, but nothing more. It doesn't matter, I tell myself, since I can't go fast enough to get hurt anyway. To prove my point, I drive head-on into a tree. Didn't hurt a bit.
For the third time in four rallies, I yell "watch the temperature gauge" and pull back into the road.
Friday, 11:40 amServiceMy one-of-a-kind Mexican louvered hood is ruined and I've destroyed my third right-front fender this year, but the Fluidyne radiator has once again escaped unscathed. The water pump is rubbing on the fan, but it's only causing cosmetic damage.
Relieved, we turn our attention to finding some traction. Jeff, my trusty crew chief, puts used Michelins on the front while I head off in search of chains.
All year I had been looking forward to the Ramada Express rally and a rematch with Jim Gillaspy. Last year, we were perfectly matched, tying three out of four side-by-side superstage races, and having very similar times on most of the stages. The first two stages had been harder on him than they had on us, however. He was out already. His first-generation RX-7 had lost its fan and would terminally overheat if he went any further.
That's a shame, Jim. Can I have your chains?
Luckily, he's a good sport. We pull the chains off his spares and cross our fingers. The chains will limit our top speed to about 40 mph, but we hope not getting stuck will make up for it.
Friday, 3:50 pmStage 4The chains are working. We're driving through the stages like my grandmother, but we're not getting stuck and our times are improving. There's one long straight on stage 4, and keeping our speed down is difficult. Later we'll learn Alfredo DeDominicis and Alex Gelsomino went 120 mph here in their rented EVO IV. We can't be going more than 45. It's still not slow enough. In an explosion of noise the chain comes loose from the right rear tire, grabs the mud flap, pounds the bottom of the car and disappears.
Returning to service, we're relieved to hear the last two stages are cancelled.