Vegas to Reno 2008: Recap Pt. 2-Insanity, Silt, Sleep Depravation, and Monster

First, some of my video footage:


Second, the rest of the story.

The call came through at about 12:03. Kent was off. Our race had begun. We split into two groups with two different call signs, KORE Chase and KORE Pit. It was KORE Chase's job to shadow the race truck from the highway and be nearby if something went wrong. KORE Pit was to go ahead to the scheduled pit stop locations and prepare for a routine pit stop. We were following KORE Pit.

For the first hour, we saw nothing of the race. The starting line had been on the side of Donovan Mountan and the first fifteen miles took racers over the top and down the other side, away from the highway. Our first chance to see anything would be on approach to Pit 2, codenamed Cotton Tail.

Five miles shy of Cotton Tail the race course finally came out of the mountains and we caught our first glimpse of trucks. And what a sight. The first thing we saw was the red Mopar Protruck to our left. We were amazed when it passed us like we were standing still, despite the fact that we ourselves were doing eighty miles an hour and had the advantage of, you know, roads.

We pulled onto the pit access road, which was when we were introduced to silt dust. A buggy drove by, kicking up said dust, and for the next twenty seconds, nothing outside the car existed. There had been a man standing fifteen feet away. He was gone. There had been a bright green canopy set up ten feet away. It was gone. There had been a parked support truck, five feet away. It was gone. The dust made everything outside the car just vanish.

Slowly, the dust cleared and vision was restored. Just in time to be destroyed by a second race vehicle. KORE Pit decided to set up at by a turn at the entrance of the pit area, keeping us all upwind of the dust. It also put us in prime position to watch the trucks come down out of Mt Dunfee, seven miles away. Trucks began their lives as long dust trails in the distance, like a ground-skimming comet. They would slowly get closer, not making a sound. Then in a blink the truck would be on top of you, roaring like a wild animal.

Kent finally rolled in around 2:30, with a big dent in the right side bed fender. Kent never said a word about how it got there. The crew changed the filter, sprayed the dust off all the important things, and the truck was back on its way. We packed up the pit and headed on to Pit 5, codename Millers, 55 miles down the road.

On the way to Millers, we drove through the largest non-military town on the route (excluding the Dayton finish line). It was a town called Tonopah, though I wouldn't be surprised if it were better known as "Fuel Stop." According to the 2000 Census, Tonopah has just over 2,600 residents. The place is so small, they are actually advertising themselves as the "Stargazing Capital of America." That should give you an idea how small the town is (remember, you can't stargaze with city lighting). Tonopah has the good fortune of being almost exactly halfway between Vegas and Reno, making them located exactly where and when you want/need to stop to refuel your car, eat, and stretch your legs, no matter which way you're headed.

Sure enough, Tonopah on this day was a hub of race support teams refueling their chase trucks and stopping at the only McDonalds within 200 miles. By my estimates, if all people involved with the race stopped in Tonopah at once, it would nearly triple Tonopah's population (which both shows how small the town is and how massive the race is. The true biggest town between Vegas and Dayton was in fact the race itself). We fueled up our rental Subaru, which was getting a nice 30 miles per gallon, grabbed some snackage, and snagged a few cans of Monster. The KORE gang meanwhile went to Burger King for the only flame broiled Whoppers between there and the finish.

After filling our tanks and getting something in our stomachs, we went on to Millers. Millers, located at mile 179 of the 255 mile course, located on a dry lake bed, allowing trucks to fly through at insane speeds (in the video you can see the team Voss truck scream through at 80+). It was also the first pit where we got to see some of the carnage of the race. The #44 Cattrac sponsored trophy truck team was a prime example. First, they had their sign run over by #1117 (which is in the video), then about a half hour later the trophy truck rolled in with roof damage, the rear fiberglass gone, and a flat tire in the spare tire rack. They had rolled the truck somewhere on the course. But like most desert racers, they were determined to see the finish. The spare tire was swapped out for a good one, the truck was fueled, and the light bar was added. The team started the truck up and, as one of the pit crew members said, the engine "sounded like s**t." But the truck took off anyway, determined to finish. It was back less than an hour later. Team 44's race ended at Millers.

At 6:32 Kent pulled into his pit. This was to be a much longer and more thorough stop, including a full driver swap, a complete refuel, and a very thorough inspection of the truck. It also included replacing a shock adjustment and tweaking the transmission, which had been giving them some trouble. Ten minutes later, the truck was off with a new driver and co-driver. As we began packing up, we heard over the radio that the race had been won. It had only taken Rick Johnson 7 hours and 41 minutes to cover the 455 miles in his trophy truck. Dad was shocked. I was impressed. The KORE crew were neither. We got back on the road. The first trophy truck may have crossed the line, but the 8100 class was still up for grabs.

We didn't get far before we heard over the radio the transmission was still in trouble. The truck was being nursed to Mina, the very next pit. We hauled ass to get there to meet it.

When we arrived at Mina, the truck was already there and being worked on by Baja Pits. The hood was up and there were greasy parts laying on a sheet of cardboard. To the untrained eye, it probably looked like the end of the road. But after about an hour or so of work, the truck was back up and running. At this point, the crew mentality had gone from winning to a podium finish. The team knew the Hall Hummer was long gone. But the rest of the field was still fair game.

We made a quick stop at Luning (pit 7, mile 275) and watched some race traffic go through. Around that time, 10:00 or so, dad decided to call it a night. He knew one of us would have to drive back to Vegas on Sunday, and Saturday was two hours away. We broke off with the KORE gang and headed for our hotel in Reno. The game plan was for me to drop him off, then return to the race for the finish.

We made it to the Peppermill in Reno around 1:00 AM. The #8 trophy truck and chase trucks were parked in a corner of the lot, indicating we weren't the only team staying at this particular hotel. I suspect that has something to do with what happened next. Dad, covered head to toe in race dust, walked up to the reservation desk. They promptly bumped him (us) up to the executive sweet, the best room on the floor. Mahogany antique style desk and chair, silk pillowcases, and a flat screen TV in the bathroom. The room was tricked out. Not that I was going to get the chance to enjoy it. I had a race to catch up to.

I decided the only chance I had of seeing any action was to head to Weeks, the final pit of the course, only 45 miles from the finish. I arrived there at about 2:30, after stopping to buy myself two Monsters (I had been up for 22 hours, after all). A few stock team support vehicles and support trucks of those who were having a bad day lined the edge of the race course. The red 7303 Ranger was there with the passenger side dented in and the dashboard completely missing. Despite all this, the team was happy. They knew they were going to finish. It had taken them over 14 hours to travel 410 miles. That was too much of a commitment for them to give up now. As the truck left the final pit, I could see the sense of accomplishment on the faces of the chase crew. They had done their job, and done it well. Now it was all up to the drivers.

Other cars and trucks blew through Weeks. All of them seemed excited as they did so, often giving a jubilant toot of the horn. Weeks was the final pit, after all. They knew going through it meant you were just about home. You could pretty much smell the finish from here.

A few big names in the spec class rolled through. Jerry Zaiden's Tundra crawled its way through, making sure it didn't break in the final fifty. The bright yellow Mongo Racing F-150 rolled through a fair deal faster, apparently smelling that finish line. Emily Miller in the fourth Rod Hall Hummer gave a blast of the freight train air horn on her way through. Her passenger side headlight was flickering, confused whether it wanted to be on or off. Apparently light issues had been the word of the day for her.

At 3:15, I decided it was time for me to move on to the finish line. It was clear there wasn't much left out there. I made the trek to Dayton, by far the biggest town on the course, with a whopping 8,000 residents. Its size made it a bit more difficult to find the finish line than it had been to find the pits. Fortunately, the Camburg support truck happened by at that moment, so I dropped in behind it and followed it to the finish.

The finish area looked like a nocturnal version of the staging area. Race and chase trucks were everywhere. Cots and sleeping bags were scattered about, set up on any flat area. Ground, trailer, in the back of a box truck. If it was flat, it was fair game.

It was about four in the morning when I reached the Red Bull arch. The 7303 Ranger was there. The team had finished, just like they said. Behind them, another dozen trucks were trying to make the finish. I sat with Casey alongside the BITD truck, watching the mountain for headlights. Every now and then, a set of lights would appear, slowly winding their way down the side and eventually crossing the finish line. Mongo and Zaiden finished. The last two trucks in the 8100 class to finish. But they finished. And that was what mattered. Emily also made it to the finish in her Hummer. Giving one final blast of the horn, which I would say woke up many of the sleeping racers, but I'm sure they were so exhausted the could have slept through Pearl Harbor. Four buggies also crossed the line, representing classes 1000, 1100, 1500, and 2000.

The sun rose just before six in the morning. According to the radio, there were still two trucks out there, along with one lone UTV. Suddenly, a set of lights appeared at the top of the mountain. It began descending at an absolute crawl. A member of the UTV team said "that's probably us." We all watched as the set of lights descended at what seemed like walking speed. Minutes later and probably a mile or two behind, a second set of lights appeared, moving much faster than the first set. Suddenly, it became a race within the race. Which would arrive first, the slower UTV, or the faster car/truck, whatever. The gap between the two was closing quickly, but so was the gap between the first and us. Finally, the UTV made it close enough for us to make it out.

But it wasn't the UTV. It was the last buggy to finish, Tyler Crouse in the 1069. Crawling along like he had all day. It was as he made the final left turn toward the gate that we saw why. There was virtually nothing left of his left rear tire, aside from a few stray flaps of fabric. The faster vehicle had in fact been the UTV, and it finished seconds behind the three wheeled buggy. Both teams were just excited to cross the line.

I sat there for another forty-five minutes without seeing another vehicle cross the line, so I decided it was time to go and finally sleep. Casey and the crew were starting to pack up and take down the finish. I left, about ten minutes shy of getting to see the first and only Jeepspeed cross the line, finishing last (103rd), but finishing all the same. Half the field couldn't attest to that.

8 AM arrived before I did, marking my 28th hour awake. I was grateful when the "fruity looking" Peppermill sign appeared in my windshield. I parked in the garage, made my way to the hotel room, and as I recall never made it beyond kneeling on the bed, still fully clothed, when I fell asleep. It had been a long, exhausting race, but it had been an incredible race. What had been seen and what had been learned was immense. I woke up in the afternoon, ready to do it all again.

It was an adventure just being a witness. I can't wait till we're a competitor.

Thanks for reading, dudes.


The gate at the exit of contingency


Cotton Tail's hard left hander


Kent pulls into Cotton Tail for his first pit stop


Tonopah (Fuel Stop), Nevada


Carl Fitts on the Millers dry lake


Dust trails


Kent makes his second pit stop and a driver swap


Our dirty, once navy blue, rental Subaru. We may not be allowed to rent in Nevada anymore

Vegas to Reno 2008: Recap Pt. 1-Pre-Race Jitters

I have been to the valley of awesomeness. It looked something like this:


That would be me in the orange shirt about a foot away from being swallowed by a cloud of silt. And believe me, I have the video footage to prove it.

I've been putting off writing the Vegas to Reno recap blog for two big reasons. 1) I feel like nothing I say can do such an incredible race justice, and 2) I know once I start typing, I'm going to wind up creating my longest blog post yet. But it's better to write too much than nothing at all and keep looking like a lazy bum.

Scoutmaster Ron Harrell (dad) and I flew into Vegas on Tuesday the 19th, but the Vegas to Reno experience didn't begin until contingency day on Thursday (hey, who goes to Vegas without planning an extra day or two to have fun). The South Point lot was packed with haulers, chase trucks, tow rigs, and race vehicles in every direction. The first familiar face I saw was Kent Kroeker. We had met up back in March at Off Road Impact. Fortunately he recognized me and we immediately began talking about the Ranger. I told him of our plan to find a stock class truck to chase with during the race. He offered us the chance to chase with KORE. We opted to take him up on the offer. We now had our Friday morning planned. A few minutes later we met up with Curt LeDuc by contingency and we had a long chat about what to expect over the coming 48 hours. Curt, for those who never met him, is awesome and is always willing to share his years of expertise and knowledge. He informed me of the driver's meeting later that day, which was to be open to the public. Certainly a helpful bit of information. If I had missed that driver's meeting, I would have been lost on Friday.

After splitting up with Curt I walked the line of cars still waiting to go through inspection, then took a lap around South Point, taking a look at all the teams. After making my lap, I went inside the casino to head up to registration. It was later in the day and the registration line had shortened itself, but it still stretched itself just about to the door. I met Casey Folks and Don Fall, both of whom I had talked to on the phone but never had the opportunity to talk to in person prior to that day. I suspect they, much like me, were disappointed the troop and the truck weren't in the race, but glad members of 35 were at the race.

The driver's meeting was more or less what you would expect from a driver's meeting. Reminders about markers, IRC tracking devices, the BLM, and so on. The big pieces of information that was very helpful to me was learning the speed limits for support vehicles entering and exiting pit areas (15 mph) and the speed limit of race vehicles going through pit areas (that would be none). Casey emphasized the importance of remembering race vehicles have no speed limit in the pits, suggesting that people make sure their pets are on a leash and their children are locked in the car.

I went to bed Thursday night knowing I had an early morning ahead of me. I had to be up by 4 so I could drop a friend off at the airport at 5, return to the hotel by 6, and meet up with Kent and the KORE army by 7. The good news was that my body was still in Eastern time, which meant it thought I was getting up at 7. The bad news was I probably fell asleep around 1. Or, to my body, 4.

We ended up getting to South Point about fifteen minutes late. Fortunately that worked for Kent and we got there just as his convoy was pulling out. And when I say convoy, I mean convoy. There were about ten trucks in the KORE parade, from Rams, to Tureags, to one Yaris which looked even more out of place than our rental Subaru. The caravan rolled into a gas station, which brought a few looks from curious patrons, then it was on to the starting line in Beatty, two and a half hours north.

Nevada is interesting. It's like someone drew a line in the sand and said "this side is Las Vegas, that side is desert. Neither is allowed to cross that line." I say this, because as you drive along US-95 out of north LV, the buildings and civilization doesn't peter out. It just plain stops. Once you cross that line, it's no buildings, no people, no animals. The trend, of course, is broken every fifty miles or so by Nellis and the occasional gas station. But beyond that it's exactly what you imagine a desert to be. Which is why we were shocked to pass a man, probably forty miles from the nearest building, pushing a shopping cart along the side of the road. That level of determination astounded me and, as dad put it, if we weren't in a hurry and had a weapon of some kind just in case, we would have stopped.

Of course there was no stopping until Beatty. We were already running late. We finally arrived somewhere around 10:00, half an hour after the trucks were supposed to start staging, and half an hour before the first truck was scheduled to leave the starting line. My first thoughts upon arriving at the staging area was something like "ohmydearsweetgodthisthingisHUGE!" It was just acre after acre of race vehicle. It took ten minutes just to drive far enough into the staging area to find a place to park. South Point had been big, but it had noting on this. There were literally thousands of cars and trucks in the staging area, waiting for the race to start.

The KORE army knew what they were doing. They had the truck unloaded, Kent and his codriver strapped in, everything double and triple checked, and the truck in the staging line in what seemed like no time at all. While they did this, I decided to wander around, which is how I came across Rod Hall. For those who don't know the name, Rod is what one calls a "champion of champions." At seventy years old you can still look in his eyes and see the fiery passion of someone half his age. He's a racer through and through and anyone who doesn't think he lives for this does not know Rod Hall. Rod is the only man to have run all 40 Baja 1000 races in a truck. Of those 40, he scored a class win in 19. Yes. I was starstruck in the middle of the desert.

Rod was not the snobbish "I'm better than you/I don't have time for you" kind of guy some racers get to be (particularly a few asphalt circle track racers I've met while working at Stafford). He was very interested in what Venture Crew 35 was doing and he thought it was a great project. He then went on to tell me about why he prefers racing stock vehicles when he could just as easily go unlimited (he feels it challenges him more as a driver). It wasn't until a member of his crew came over and told him he needed to get ready that he broke of the conversation. Though not without leaving me with a pearl of wisdom or two about getting old. I really ought to call him.

At 10:30 on the dot the first trophy truck left the line. Kent, being part of class 8100, would be one of the last trucks to start the race. This gave the KORE army a chance to finalize who would be on which support team and who would have what duty when Kent slid that Ram into the pits. As we sat and waited, support trucks began making their way out of the staging area, coinciding with their respective race trucks leaving the starting line. Much like water in a funnel, trucks slowly progressed out of the lot and onto US-95 headed for the first pit.

Finally, a little before noon, it was time for the KORE army to stage. We lined up all the chase vehicles at the edge of US-95, waiting to hear the call on our radios. Time slowed almost to a stop. We knew an unbelievable adventure was about to begin. As soon as we heard the words.

(Note. The second half of the story is in part 2 of the recap. Because this post is long enough already.)


The Red Bull gate at the exit of the contingency inspection area.

BJ Baldwin's trophy truck in the South Point valet parking line. Perfect photo op.

Despite All our Rage We're Still Just Scouts in a Cage

Well, I've finally returned to the land of Blogdom to let you guys know what's going on. The summer months were, to be honest, rather slow. School was replaced by work, keeping most of us out of the shop. But here in Venture Crew 35, our minds are always on the truck. This was no exception.

I went to the AMA Supermoto Race which was held at Stafford Speedway in Stafford Springs, CT. AMA riders, being fellow members of the off road world, have been big supporters of our project, and this was no exception. As I talked with various riders, along with my friends the Curries (as in Currie Enterprises), I could see the riders getting excited about what we were doing. When I asked if they had anything they could donate for auction, few hesitated. I left looking like I robbed the place. Which is why I would like to thank the following riders (and plug their auctions):

•Cassidy Anderson, rider of the Supermoto Premiere #15 Troy Lee Designs Honda. Donated an autographed jersey
•Daryl Atkins, rider of the Supermoto Unlimited #54 Rip It Energy Drink Aprilia. Donated an autographed jersey
•Mark Burkhart, defending Supermoto Premiere champion and rider of the #1 Graves Motorsports Yamaha. Donated an autographed jersey for the second year in a row. Mark's one of our biggest fans, and we're certainly one of his.
•Benny Carlson, rider of the Supermoto Premiere #45 Rip It Energy Drink Aprilia. Donated an autographed jersey.
•Brandon Currie, defending Supermoto Lite champion and rider of the #1 Graves Motorsports Yamaha. Donated a pair of signed goggles.
•Steve Drew, rider of the Supermoto Unlimited #73 Hart and Huntington KTM. Donated an autographed jersey. Steve also gave us his email, telling us to keep in touch with him on the project. Because people with the name Steve are cool like that.
•Troy Herfoss, rider of the Supermoto Premiere #99 HMC Factory KTM. Donated a pair of signed gloves for the second year in a row.

After Supermoto it was time for the race that should have been our big coming out party, but wasn't. The rising gas prices/recession everywhere else kept us from being done on time, so our first race turned into a recon mission. Scoutmaster Ron Harrell and I went out to Vegas to Reno, chased with Kore, and brought home a wealth of information. But that really deserves its own blog, don't you think?

As for the truck now, it's finally being worked on again. Thanks to a tubing sponsorship from Marmon Keystone, we've begun building the rollcage in the bed section. CBS 3 in Springfield is doing a story on the project, which will hopefully air sometime this week. And we are very close to finally making a shock sponsorship deal. So a little of the momentum is finally back.

I'm not going to tell you guys about V2R yet, because I want to get all my photos and video together first. So you'll probably have to wait until this weekend or sometime next week. Sorry.

Anyway, till next week. Thanks for reading, dudes.

The pictures are back!

The front portion of the cage in the cab.

The rear portion of the cage in the cab. There is about 80 feet of tubing in the cab alone.

The bed cage begins to take shape

Following the Ranger to the interview

Set up and ready for the interview

Desert expert Rory tries to give a decent interview, but I'm a hard act to follow

The Blog Lives

Hey, everyone. So it's been a while since I've put up a blog post (or added photos for those who have checked out the Flickr photostream). But I'm back and I'm blogging. And the truck project lives on.

So we had a bit of a post-Impact crash of sorts. I spent weeks on the phone and on websites pursuing the contacts I made at the show. We also used up the last of the tubing we had to build the cage. It wasn't even enough to finish the part of the cage inside the cab. So we had to go buy more tubing.

Late April and early May was a slow time. Most of the Crew, myself included, was forced to put the truck on the back burner so we could get our schoolwork done and take our final exams. Meanwhile the recession and increasing gas prices continued to creep up on us and make our project even more difficult. A few of us sat down with phone books and began calling local businesses seeking sponsorship. We still have most of the phone book to call, but so far we have been unable to pick up any additional sponsorships from the phone book. At this point, the crew budget is basically whatever I make working, along with whatever the other leaders and members are able to contribute. Days looked dark there for a while, but we're not done yet. And the light at the end of the tunnel is brightening.

One of the calls I made in May was to Aero Tech Services, a company that makes custom fuel cells for cars, boats, and aircraft. So I called them up and talked to Dennis King, president of the company. The conversation went something like this: "Hi. My name is Steven. My Boy Scouts are building a truck to race Vegas to Reno and Baja 1000. Would you sponsor us with a fuel cell?" "Sure. Just send me the dimensions." "Cool. Thank you." It was a pleasant surprise amid the month of frustration. We also now have all the hoses we need thanks to Chicopee's own Custom Racing Hose. Barry, the owner of the company, came and took a look at our truck and agreed to provide us with whatever we wind up needing.

We still need a few things, of course. Shocks, seats, and tubing being the biggest issues. Not to mention fuel of course. We did calculations as to how much it will cost to bring the truck to Vegas and back and came up with approximately... a lot. So we're praying that we can either pick up some sponsorships that will help pay our fuel cost or, even better, get sponsored by a fuel company.

Tomorrow, for me, shall be a very busy, but boring, day. More phone calls, more email proposals, and, if I'm lucky, I'll stop by the shop to see how the rest of the crew is doing with the truck.

Normally there are some pictures right about here, but with the theft of my camera in LA, we sadly don't have any for you today. I'm going to try and get some pictures up soon. Till then, thanks for reading, dudes.

Off Road Impact Show. Big Weekend Number Two

I'm such a procrastinator.

Two weeks ago on March 6 I flew out to Anaheim for the Off Road Impact Show, which I was invited to by Rory. The show actually started on the 6th, but I'm a student first and foremost and I had some important classes on Thursday, so I opted to skip the first day, instead flying out right after my classes (Rory and his friend Mike went out on Wednesday to be there for all three days of fun).

I knew my hotel, chosen because it was within walking distance of the Anaheim Convention Center, was also in close proximity to Disneyland, but I had no idea how close it was until I woke up Friday morning to head over to Impact. Turns out my hotel was so close to Disneyland I could've hit Space Mountain with a rubber band.

Anyways, I walked over to the convention center about 8:30 on Friday (Pacific time, of course) for the breakfast. They didn't have anything I was interested in eating (sorta a continental breakfast type thing. Danishes, fruit, all that crap), but the breakfast was certainly a thrill. The breakfast had three guest speakers. Anonymous people, really, names nobody would recognize. I think they were Bruce Meyers, Walker Evans, and Ivan "Ironman" Stewart. For those of you who really and truly don't recognize those names, those are three of the biggest legends in off road racing. During the breakfast these three icons talked about their successes and struggles both in the sport and in the business.

After the breakfast the exhibit floor opened up, giving the veterans a chance to share stories and talk business and giving amateurs like me a chance to gawk. One of the first things that amazed me was the size of some of the trucks at the show. Around here, as most locals know, there's a height limit for pickup trucks/suvs (I think it's about 7 feet). Out in California such limit doesn't exist. Many trucks at the show towered over me, making me feel like I had eaten the wrong thing while strolling through Wonderland. The tallest truck there was a silver Ford Super Duty so massive the top of my head was even with the top of the headlight (I'm six feet tall).

I made my rounds through the show talking to different businesses about Project Baja, as we have come to call it, and handed out business cards. The general reaction from those I talked to was often either awe and amazement or skeptical disbelief (the latter being the fault of all the people before us who said they'd build a truck to race Baja but never made it). I did make a good deal of what I hope to be beneficial connections on the floor though.

Around one in the afternoon I finally saw a familiar face over at the Currie Enterprises Booth. I originally ran into John Currie at the Stafford Supermoto race in 2007. His son, Brandon, races in the Supermoto Lite division for Yamaha/Graves Motorsports. I got in a conversation with John at the race about Baja and what sort of lunacy we had in store. We recognized eachother at Impact and resumed the conversation. I updated him on the progress of the truck. Our conversation was "interrupted" when a few of his clients from Colorado came over. Turns out John had invited them to check out the Currie Enterprises shop. So John turns to me and says "You want to come with us?" It wasn't a tough decision.

The Currie complex was amazing. I can't even begin to imagine how many rear ends there were in that place. They were everywhere, thousands of them. It also amazed me how many different rear ends were there. Most know Currie for Jeep rears and some for Fords, but when I was there they were also finishing up a rear end for a '32 roadster. Their machine shop meanwhile was something that would make any parts manufacturer jealous... or me at least. All the machining tools you could think of were there, from lathes to bridgeports to... well you get the idea. It was an incredible place.

We got back from Currie's just in time for the Impact Business Awards ceremony. Recipients of awards included Kent Kroeker and the late, great Mickey Thompson. After said ceremony, it was party time. Monster Energy was holding an "Aftermath Party" at the nearby Hotel Menage. It was a great chance to intermingle with the legends more casually (since it was a highly restricted access party). I got the chance to talk with Curt LeDuc, who lived in East Longmeadow, Mass before getting bit by the off road bug and moving to California. Curt was very excited to hear about what we were up to and gave me his card, saying I should call him if we needed everything. I also talked with "Pistol" Pete Sohren. One of his sponsors happened to be nearby and upon hearing about our project offered to make our team shirts. Another base covered by pure coincidence.

Saturday started with my morning walk to the convention center. On the way, I happened to run into Rob from Slime. Slime is a, well, slime. It's top notch flat prevention in liquid form. You put it in a tire and if said tire is punctured, the slime will seal up the hole instantly (at the Slime booth there was a tire with over 200 holes in it, all of them sealed by Slime). Anyways, Rob happened to recognize me from the day before and offered me a ride to the show in the "Slimemobile." Another surprise opportunity, just like that. I told Rob of our mission and sure enough, I got Slime'd.

The rest of the show was a little rougher. Having talked to pretty much everyone at the show and still being tired from Monster, I decided to park my butt over at the CORR booth for a while and enjoy their flatscreen paradise. I was probably there for an hour or so when I finally decided to grab my bag and take another lap. This proved to be harder than anticipated do to one large problem. Someone had taken my bag and all its contents, including my new camera. I called lost and found and security, accomplishing little more than confirming smart money was on me never getting my camera back. An unfortunate event, but one I simply had to accept. It was still a good trip. Fortunately I had uploaded Friday's photos to my computer when I got back to the hotel that night, so I still had some of my photos.

After the show's end Saturday, I returned to my room for a while, then strolled out to meet Rory and Mike for our last dinner in this pleasant western city. Mike was buying, so I ordered myself a full rack of babyback ribs (quite delicious). At the end of said meal, I parted ways with the other two, not to see them until I returned to New England. Those lucky bums got themselves a daytime flight back home while I was stuck to a redeye that would leave Santa Ana at 8 PM Sunday and arrive in Bradley at 5:30 AM Monday.

Sunday was spent mostly with me recovering from being spent. At John Wayne airport however I did meet a fellow Impact attendee from Fort Collins, Colorado (check it out, Matt, you done been recognized). My flight transfered in Denver, so I wound up on the same plane as him. We chatted briefly about the show and my project before parting ways to take our respective seats on the plane. I wish I could say I slept on the way to Denver, but truth be told I didn't, despite trying my best. I blame it on my non-reclining seat (I was in the row in front of the emergency exit). My layover in Denver was hardly a layover at all. By the time my plane to Denver landed, my flight from Denver to Bradley was already boarding (the primary reason I chose to fly Frontier). We ended up having to wait a while at the gate. Turns out the UMass Baseball team was on my flight, but their plane into Denver hadn't arrived yet. I did manage to sleep on the second leg of my flight home, but not until we were over Ohio (I know because the plane had this onboard map tracking thing. Ohio is the last state I remember). Once again I was stuck with a non-reclining seat, this time being the last row.

It was an amazing trip and I met a lot of incredible people. Now, however, I have dozens of calls to make and emails to send to follow up on the contacts I made at Impact. I need to reply to Matt's email, which has been sitting in my inbox for about a week now, and I really, really need to get some sleep. I was determined to stop putting off writing the Anaheim blog, so I'm putting the finishing touches on it now at 4 in the morning.

Well, I'm passing out on me keyboard, so I'll call it here. More news on the truck coming. Till then, thanks for reading, dudezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz-- huh? wha? I'm awake, I swear.


Welcome to paradise

Bruce Meyers, Walker Evans, and Ivan Stewart. Three legends of off road

The Expo floor

They build 'em big out here

Tallest truck. Top of the headlight is six feet off the ground

Kent Kroeker's Stock Full

Walker Evans and me

Me and Ivan Stewart

A "Monster" of an ice sculpture

Speedway Expo. The First of Two Very Exciting Weeks

For the first time since we bought the truck, we showed it to the public. For the second year, Speedway Expo was kind enough to sponsor us by giving us booth space at the show. This time though we actually had a truck to put in it. The truck of course hasn't been painted yet, but with the new wheels and tires it still looked amazing.

As usual, Nick was my right hand man on the job. We had the truck towed to Expo by Bach Towing and got it there around 2 PM. It took the entire duration of 2 to 5 to get the other elements of the Expo booth set up (simulator, table, TVs, etc). Cal Green of Speedway Expo rolled by about the time the show started and gave us a special present: a Dale Earnhardt Sr 1998 Daytona 500 lithograph by NASCAR artist Sam Bass. Bass sent up a few lithographs for the nonprofits at the show to auction off. The lithograph was amazing and we were able to sell quite a few raffle tickets.

Friday was a relatively show day at Expo, with not that many people at the show. We ran Guitar Hero III in the booth, which resulted in a steady stream of kids coming over and sitting down on the PS2. Raffle ticket sales were incredibly slow, with nobody buying a ticket in the first three hours (though we did have a few simple monetary donations). Toward the end of the day I walked by the Racing Against Cancer booth and found out they were selling their tickets for significantly less. We lowered the cost of the raffle tickets to the same as RAC's (something we should have checked on at the start), and sales quickly increased.

Saturday was much more exciting. From the moment the doors opened the Mallory Complex was packed with racing fans, despite the snow storm that was taking place. We removed Guitar Hero III from the booth and replaced it with a much more appropriately themed DiRT, an off road racing game that almost was named the 2007 Sports Game of the Year. DiRT is as much an off road simulator as it is a game, with the cars responding very realistically (for better or worse, depending on how you drive). Unfortunately we weren't able to acquire a steering wheel and pedals for the game, so we weren't able to complete the off road racing experience, which resulted in the game being played almost exclusively by the younger crowd.

The biggest moment of Saturday... hell, the biggest moment of the entire weekend, came Saturday afternoon when defending Craftsman Truck Series champion Ron Horniday, who was at Expo for an autograph session, made a surprise stop by our booth. Ron was a great guy and showed significant interest in what we were doing, even though it was a Ford (Ron, if you're reading this, that one was for you). Ron signed the tailgate of the truck and made a bit of a donation to the cause. We were told later that on the ride back to the airport he was talking about our project.

Sunday was much like Saturday in attendance. Of course by the time Sunday rolled around all us exhibitors were getting a wee bit tired. So we really pretty much took the day easy and relaxed in the booth. The show ended at 5 and, thanks to Adam being there with us on Sunday, we managed to tear things down rather quickly, though the expert exhibitors still made us amateurs feel like we were moving in slow motion. Thanks to another Bach tow we got the truck back to the shop around 7 or so. We rolled it in, jacked it up, and with a little patience and careful maneuvering we got it back in its corner.

Of course the week after Expo, I flew out to L.A. for the Off Road Impact show. But that's for another blog (which I should have up by tomorrow). Till then, thanks for reading, dudes.


The truck with all its sponsor logos on for the show. It be lookin good

The Venture Crew 35 booth space at Speedway Expo

A few kids play the off road simulator

Nick sits with the truck and Sam Bass Lithograph

Ron Horniday and I, two great truck racers :-P

The back of the truck. Ron made sure he signed it big

Ron's autograph

There was a feature article about us in the Speedway Expo program

Tony Stewart's hearse. The most popular car at the show

Including the Crew Ranger there were only three off road trucks at the show (plus the Thrasher monster truck and a pair of buggys). This would be one of the three

The Good, The Bad, And The Bloody

Well, things have been pretty crazy now that we've moved the truck to Rory's shop. Now that we're right down in Ellington we're in, on, or under the truck a good five days a week. We've got the living hell stripped out of it now. Absolutely nothing in the cab but the wheel and the pedals (and the crash sensor for the air bags). Even the little bit of heater box/AC system that was left from the Clayton strip is gone. Under the hood, there's absolutely nothing left but the engine itself. The transmission and drive shafts are gone, largely because we're going to put in a new tranny (new is a relative term. It's from a 1993 Explorer). Sway bars are gone, rear shocks are gone. I mean that sucker is stripped.

So, good, bad, ugly. Let's start with the bad. The bad was the transmission we removed. Don't get me wrong. The transmission works great. But man, that sucker was a massive pain to get out of the truck. In the end, it took three days of work to finally extricate it. Murphy was rocking in full force. From stuck bolts, to rusted bolts that wouldn't come out, to a transfer case that even with all bolts removed needed to be chiseled off the tranny. It was the most difficult thing we've had to deal with thus far.

The good. Well the biggest good is that our wheels and tires came in and look badass. For those who don't know, American Racing sponsored us with eight Teflon coated rims designed specifically and solely for off road racing. And BF Goodrich sponsored us with four Baja T/A tires, with more coming before our first race. So right now the truck's sitting on a good three grand of swag. And it looks AWESOME!

The ugly? That would be my finger. Rory, aside from being a desert racing guru, is apparently a little bit psychic. He said to me "sooner or later you're going to bite yourself with that angle grinder." About ten minutes later I did exactly that. I managed to tag myself pretty good on the left index finger right at the lower knuckle. While not a serious injury, it was bleeding profusely enough that I had to go outside because I was bleeding all over Rory's floor. I ended up just putting a "shop bandage" over it and going back to work, but I couldn't bend that finger for about a week. I've almost got full motion back now, though it's still a tad stiff from the swelling.

Right now the truck's at Speedway Expo, which I'll expand on in tomorrow's blog. Fortunately this place has wi-fi, so I've been able to upload all my photos and such, which, for those wondering, is why I hadn't blogged sooner. I've been having some hardcore photo upload issues.

Well, gotta go sell some raffle tickets. As always, thanks for reading, dudes.


Project leader Steven Harrell (better known as me) plays human groundhog in the engine compartment

One of the new American Racing rims

The Ranger at the peak if it's strippage

Crew members Ryan Mahan, Bill, and Nick Schott work on the engine

Crew members Nick Schott and Ryan Mahan battle the transmission. It wouldn't be out for another two days

Desert guru Rory torches off a stuck bolt on the shift lever

My bloody finger after an angle grinder gets the upper hand on me (hahaha. Hand. It's funny)

My finger all fixed up with a "shop bandage"

Crew member Adam Larson uses his Jeep to pull the Explorer out of the ground so we can remove its transmission for the Ranger

Crew member Nick Schott preps the hubs for welding

Lotsa Changes

Ok. So a lot of things have changed since I last blogged. Well, actually I guess there's
really only one big change, but it's huge. We've moved the truck.

It was great working in Clayton's shop, but the commute down and back was long and only being able to work on it one day a week was making things slow, so after discussing it with Clayton and the aforementioned Rory, we decided to move the truck to Rory's shop in Ellington. This is great because now it's only a 20 minute drive to the shop and we've got guys in there almost every day of the week. Rory, having already been to Mexico for the 1000 is also a desert racing expert, and he knows exactly what we should and shouldn't be doing.

So we got the truck into Rory's shop Monday of last week, and since then it's been an almost non-stop teardown. We still haven't started the cage, but we have taken out a lot of other stuff. Both sway bars are gone, everything associated with the heater or air conditioner are out, rear shocks, radiator, that K&N air intake, the hood, tires, fan, exhaust, well you get the idea. Now there's a big pile of stuff in the garage at home that I need to take to the junkyard and try to sell. Rory thinks we've got a few hundred bucks worth of working stuff. Maybe even a grand. So that's certainly a good thing.

Meanwhile, we need to make sure we're ready for Speedway Expo at the end of the month. Between last year and this year they've given us about two grand worth of free booth space, so they're pretty much our biggest sponsor right now. Which means we need to make sure we bring the best display we can. I also need to check with sponsors American Racing and BF Goodrich to make sure we've got the wheels and rubber to show off at the Expo. Good ol' Ranger. Always keeping me busy.

As always, thanks for reading, dudes.



Clayton brings the Ranger to Rory's

Rory jumps the Ranger with his prerunner

The Ranger on Monday

The Ranger on Thursday

The Ranger on Saturday

Much less under the hood