WANDERS # 21
THE AGONY OF VICTORY AT THE BAJA 500 SAFARI RALLY
By Rick Sieman
When we last left Carl and Emma, they had just started in the Baja 500 Safari, an event held in conjunction with the Baja 500 off-road race. The Safari is a timed event, but run on the same course that the racers compete on. Carl, much to Emma's dismay, had entered The Whale in the event. Their start was less than auspicious, as Carl backed into the truck behind him when the flag dropped, and had both awnings unroll on a fast road section. We join them now as they are pulled off the side of the road, and putting the
remains of the awnings in the cavernous interior of The Whale.
***
"OK, Emma. I got the awnings stuffed inside. How much time did we lose doing that?"
"Emma glanced at her Timex. "About five minutes, dear. It's a good thing they didn't blow away."
Carl grunted and spit a blast of tobacco juice at a lizard standing on a rock about ten feet away. The last half of the lizards tail got coated with the brown substance, and it quickly darted away, no doubt doing its own version of lizard-swearing.
"Well then, we just gotta make up some time before we get into the dirt. It's gonna be pedal to the metal, hammer-down all the way, red-line city, full-throttle, torque-twistin'..."
"Carl, just shut up and drive, please. And try not to kill us.”
Carl fired up and lurched off with a chirp from the tires. Then a frown covered his face, and he screeched to a halt. He put The Whale into reverse and chirped the tires once again, then squealed to another halt. "Sorry about that, Emma. Guess I forgot about you. Hop in, Honey Pot."
Emma sighed. "Actually, I would have been better off standing there alongside the road. The worst that could have happened would be that I would get robbed and killed. With you at the wheel, were probably gonna get lost and then you'll kill us both when you drive off a cliff, and then we'll be dead AND lost!"
Carl looked up at the sky. "Emma, just git back in the seat, and I promise I'll drive real careful and never race again. After this one, that is."
Emma sniffled and reluctantly got in the passenger seat. "Promise?"
"Promise!" said Carl, while keeping his hands behind his back, so Emma couldn't see his fingers crossed.
A few miles later, they peeled off the narrow paved road onto a narrower dirt road that was hard-packed and riddled with rain ruts. Evil looking cactus and foreboding rocks lined the edges of much of the road... if you could call it a road.
Carl drove quite well, holding a brisk pace, but taking no chances. The ride in The Whale was quite comfortable, with the exception of the awnings jumping around in the back and the goldfish getting slopped out of his (her?) fish bowl twice.
A checkpoint popped up around a turn and Carl idled into the lane. A checker dropped a stub in his stub can, and wrote down his time. "How am I doing?" asked Carl.
"Number 27? You're about two minutes off your pace. Not bad. At least you're not burning the check like some of those maniacs.
"Burning?"
"Yeah. That's when you come in too early. Cost's you double points."
Carl thought this over for a second. “Hokey-dokey. Thanks for the info. Say, you ain't ain't got another map, do ya? We sort of left ours back at the hotel."
The lady gave Carl and map and waved them off with a big smile. "Hot damn, Emma! Now we're in business again. I want you to study that map while I make up some of those lost two minutes."
***
Carl got on the gas hard for the next half hour and passed a number of other vehicles, some of them broken down alongside the course, or changing flat tires.
Emma yelled over the sound of the engine: "Dear, there's a thing coming up called an "EITHER-OR" section. If you take the long way, it's easy... and if you take the short way, it's hard."
Carl gave a fiendish smile. "There's no choice, Emma. We take the short way and pick up some serious time. That's what it's all about. The challenge of man and machine against nature and the natural. How much further 'till the "NEITHER-NOR" section?"
"A few more miles, dear."
For the next few miles, Carl climbed steadily upward. The narrow road twisted and turned as it climbed, with an alarming drop-off on the passengers side and a near-vertical wall on the drivers side.
Near the summit of the climb, Carl saw a sign that said, LONG WAY/SHORT WAY, with two arrows pointing. Without even thinking, Carl took the SHORT WAY turn and promptly regretted ever being born. He was going down an almost vertical hill!
He nailed the brakes and it made absolutely no difference. Emma let out a horrifying shriek! "We're gonna diiiiiiieeeeee! ! !"
Carl white-knuckled the steering wheel and concentrated on trying to survive. On the way down, he had to dodge a few deep ruts, rocks and gnarly bushes, but the truck didn't want to turn. Then he remembered an article he'd read a few years ago, and gave the throttle a little nudge, and lo and behold, The Whale responded! Carl made a mental note to re-subscribe to the magazine if he lived through this.
The Whale picked up speed and plummeted down the hill at a truly frightening rate. At one point, Carl noted that the speedo read 62 miles per hour, and he thought it was weird to be breaking the speed limit while pointed nearly straight downward. Then, oddly, the hill started flattening out. Just a little at first, then more... until at last, Carl found that he was on level ground.
It was then that he realized that the hill was nowhere near as dangerous as it looked. The huge run-off area made it relatively safe, in spite of its fearsome appearance. Carl got to the flat land and let out a sigh. "Emma? You can relax now. We're at the bottom and we're not even close to being dead. Emma? Don't bite the dash like that. You're liable to get vinyl poisoning, or something like that."
Emma emitted a small moan and slumped back in the seat. "Carl, I think I might take up sky diving when we get back to the states, just to calm my nerves down. Let me tell you one thing, buster! If you ever take me down another hill like that, I will break all of your fishing rods and run off with the first band of gypsies I meet!"
Carl got a puzzled look on his face: "So what are you saying, Emma?"
"Carl!"
"Yes, dear."
***
Some time later, Carl rolled into another check. "How am I doin' ?"
"Well, you are a whole bunch early. How'd you manage to move up through the pack so quick?"
"I went down that hill back there and took the short cut."
The check worker let out a low whistle. "Wow! Nobody has been going down that hill except for a few of the crazier racers, and they've come in all pasty-faced and shakin'!"
Carl put on a smug smile: "Shaking? From that itty-bitty hill? You gotta be kidding? Why I could go down that thing three times and up it four while tuning in a good station on the radio and eatin' a tuna fish sandwhich. It's a piece a' cake."
The check worker shook his head from side to side. "Mister, you're a lot braver than you look. Gotta hand it to you. Too bad you lost so many points by coming in early. Actually, you're the first Safari Rally truck through here."
Carl waved goodbye to the checker and proceeded down the course, which was getting rougher and rougher. He kept up a good pace, not really having any ideas of whether or not he was on schedule.
A few miles later, The Whale veered hard to the right and whacked a bush with a course marking ribbon hanging on it. The ribbon came off and wrapped around the antenna. Then the truck darted to the left side a few minutes later. Carl picked up more ribbon, this time it wrapped around his mirror.
After another half-dozen brushes with the bushes, he realized that something was wrong. Carl got out, did an inspection under the truck, then grabbed a front tire and wiggled it. Whoops! The wheel bearings were loose. Real loose. Perhaps even shot.
Carl yelled into the cab. "Hey, Emma! How far is it till we get to that check point/pit that's on the stretch of highway. No way do I want to work on the wheel bearings in this deep sand."
Emma peered at the map and ran a chubby forefinger over the indicated route. "About 30 miles, dear. Do you think you can make it that far?"
"Yeah. Long as I don't hear any grinding or see any smoke. Of course, the handling ain't gonna be too great. It's gonna take all of my driving skills - which are considerable - just to keep The Whale between the trees."
***
For the next hour, Carl wobbled and weaved down the trail, banging into bushes, weeds tree branches. In the process, he collected hundreds of feet of red and white course marker ribbon.
Eventually, they got to the highway section and Carl jacked the front end up into the air. Forty five minutes later, he had the wheel bearings replaced and wiped his greasy hands on a red shop rag. "How many Safari trucks passed us by while I worked on the truck, Emma?"
"Why, none dear."
"How could that be? Hells fire, we been down for nearly an hour. Well, that ain't my worry. Let's get goin', woman. We got us a race to run!"
***
For the balance of the race, Carl drove conservatively, and almost lulled Emma into relaxing. Eventually, many hours later, they idled into the town of Ensenada and crossed the finish line. When asking, Carl found out that no other Safari Rally entries had finished yet. Carl and Emma went to their hotel, showered, then went to a restaurant for a meal.
They then went back to the finish line to check the results. Oddly enough, there were still no other Safari Rally finishers. Carl shrugged his shoulders and went back to the hotel to catch some sleep.
***
The next day, all the results were posted, and lo and behold, Carl was the overall winner of the Safari Rally. In fact, he was the only finisher. Even as they were looking at the results sheet, a Safari Rally truck drove into town, with the driver looking very upset. He ran up to the race officials and started yelling and waving his arms. Carl sidled in closer to hear what was being said: "...were doing just fine, then right around mile 150, all of the course markers disappeared. Nothing. Not one piece of ribbon. It's as if someone went out there and took everything down. I spent half the time getting un-lost and the other half trying to get directions. There are Safari Rally trucks all over the place trying to find out where they are and where they're supposed to be. I tell you, I've never been so..."
Carl walked over, got Emma by the arm and gently pulled her away from the hubbub of activity at the finish line area. "Emma, let's go get us something to eat. I hate to hang around bad sports. Sorta takes the edge off a sweet victory. We'll come back and get our trophy later in the day."
Emma gave Carl a funny look, but chose to say nothing, which often is the mark of a wise woman.
***
Next month. Heading north.
