The best way to get me away from SEMA is to offer me the chance to see a bit of four-wheeled action, so when the folks at BFGoodrich offered up the chance to see the qualification for the Baja 1000, how could I say no? I have never seen Baja-style racers in action live and wanted to assert with my own eyes just how wild they were. I joined up with Tom Sullivan, BFGoodrich’s Public Relations representative, Lindsay Wagner, the poor soul in charge of making sure I’m alright where BFG is concerned, and two other journalists, Holly and Patrick, who are SEMA virgins and have been drinking from the proverbial firehose since they arrived in Vegas. The four of us packed into a rental car and ditched the pretty lights of the Vegas strip for the floodlights of Las Vegas Motor Speedway on the very north end of Vegas proper.
With wristbands on, we made our way to our viewpoint, just after the start/finish jump…yes, you read that right…and settled in. The cold night air was settling in and everybody was huddling around the heaters, enjoying the food and drink provided and generally mingling as one of the buggies performed some cautious test laps of the course. The qualifier is run on a mixture of dirt and asphalt sections of the complex and includes the arena-style jump area, some dirt road running, a huge sweeping left-hander in a circle track that leaves the trophy trucks dragging their non-existent door handles in the apex and an angled ditch drop-off that is meant to be hit at speed. But from the spectators’ viewpoint, half of that isn’t even known…so how do I know it? As the field of Trophy Trucks and Class 1 racers started running and flying at full race speed, Sullivan was approached by another BFG employee: did he have anybody that would be willing to ride along in a prepared prerunner that was doing duty as a cone-catcher?
C’mon…something-something bears, woods. I practically ran that poor woman over to get in line.
The driver of the Ford F-150 is Roger Norman, the head of SCORE. He’s run Baja, has paired off with the likes of Rod Hall, Rod Millen and Paul Newman, and tonight was doing double-duty as not only the ringmaster of the event but as the head course worker as well. The F-150 isn’t in the same league of power as the Trophy Trucks that were beating up the course, but there was still plenty of snot under the sloping hood and enough suspension underneath that Roger would be able to use to wake up whoever strapped into the passenger seat with. I wound up being second in line, and watched as the F-150 roared off out of sight. A few minutes later it reappeared up the long straight fire-road section and pulled off just before the dirt arena section. I prepared to head out to the truck when Roger signalled “wait” to his wife, Elise, who was acting as gate guard. As soon as the next truck passed by him on the track, the F-150 pulled out onto the course and Roger went WFO. Here’s the layout: Roger takes a right onto the track, drifts a left corner, and the next obstacle in the way is the jump with the inflatable BFGoodrich banner. Don’t let my shitty iPhone pics fool you: that is one sincere dropoff, and as I watched the Ford take a very healthy flight, I got really excited…and a touch nervous. I’ve flown in a car before, but this would literally take my automotive aviation experience to new heights.
Finally, it was my turn. I almost skipped out to the truck and quicky navigated through the jungle gym of rollcage and into the seat. Roger helped me set up the five-point harness and in short order we were on our way. As he shifted through the Ford’s gears I made mental notes of just how snotty the truck, whose name is “Fluffy” (I swear to God I’m not making a joke there), really is, especially compared to my memories of driving these late-1990s Fords. In fact, I was so focused on my assessment that I didn’t notice the ditch drop-off point coming up into view until we were right up on it. I looked up, and had just enough time to mentally think “Oh, shit, that looks deep!” before we fell into it. Three things were learned then: (1): the suspension on these trucks is made of miracles and clouds, because my spine should have been bent and my kidneys should have been done for, (2) apparently faster equals smoother because the brake pedal was ignored, and (3) Norman either has done this so many times that he’s completely numb to the experience or is a touch sadistic and enjoys hearing random journos scream for mercy from the passenger seat. I wasn’t screaming, I was laughing like a mad scientist wanting more, be it hard-charging down the fire roads or curving around the short track, with the truck so heeled over onto it’s side that I could tell you just how rough the asphalt they used is. He wasn’t sparing the throttle by any means of the imagination, and soon we were back where we started, waiting for another racer to pass by so that he could go out onto the course.
The Baja hopeful flies by and he pulls out onto the track and proceeds to actually use the throttle. WTF…we had only been running half throttle before?! Apparently so, because the Ford’s temperment switched from angry bull to pissed-off rhino and Norman switched over to full-race mode instead of fun-time mode. You ever hear people explain how time slowed down during a particularly stressful moment? Yeah, it happens, and I know it just from that big-ass jump. I don’t know how fast he hit the crest after drifting the left-hander, but as the truck cleared it’s apogee of flight and started to sink, an iPhone floated up off of the floor, with it’s screen lit up, and hovered in my field of view (which was quickly being filled with more dirt than sky, by the way) and floated gently back down to the floorboard before the impact of the front tires was felt. What really happened? He nailed that jump, sailed three-quarters of the way down the length of the landing slope and landed front-wheels first before pulling the truck level. It is one thing to see huge trucks flying on television or in person, but being in the vehicle is something else altogether. In a basic pre-runner, I got to experience my stomach touching my epiglottis…imagine how someone like B.J. Baldwin or Robby Gordon feels as they fly down the Baja California peninsula. It’s wild.
I came out of the truck with the biggest shit-eating grin on my face, and the next passenger ran up and practically ripped me out of the seat. When Holly and Patrick’s turns came up I stood next to the gate, waiting to see their reactions. Both were the same: smiles and laughter, with absolute disbelief in the Ford’s capabilities.
Very cool. More pics/info on the truck?
I’ve always felt like these trucks only truly excel at being turned into prerunners. In stock form they are plagued with electrical issues, weak engines and scary crash deformation. The looks aren’t bad, but they really work when widened and set up to run.