H
HardScrabble
Guest
Some time last year the subject of what it was ike torun the Baja 1000 was broached. There is an articel by a journalist who rode along for a bit with some pretty good descriptions. He might be a touch overly dramatic, and is a bit of a wuss, but this is a good read.
For the rest of the article, which is 7 pages long, click HERE
I have soiled myself.
It's midnight at the Baja 1000, somewhere north of Bahía de los Angeles in the tortured highlands of the Sierra de San Borja and seven hours into my stint in the right seat of the Groff Motorsports Class 1 Unlimited buggy. Due to a plumbing malfunction with my "condom catheter," I have peed in my racing suit. I'm hypothermic. Also, in a phenomenon familiar to desert night racers, I'm hallucinating like a peyote-addled Yaqui shaman—Watch out for that cow . . . moose . . . CLOWN!
Worse, I vomited in my full-face helmet. The shrimp burritos I had for lunch are hanging around my neck, trapped in the helmet's dust skirt. CART superstar Jimmy Vasser, at the wheel of the Jimco-Toyota race car, expresses concern when he hears me blow almuerzo through the intercom system.
For the rest of the article, which is 7 pages long, click HERE