We didn't finish. We were running on time. But we broke the truck at the 220 mile mark. We later learned that Jesse James of Monster Garage had gone 222 miles. If we had known that, we would have limped another 3 miles. Just because. Anyway. At about 219.5 miles, which as it turned out was about 3 miles after Warren took over driving, we started to hear this rubbing noise. It was happening with every bump. Even the little tiny ones. But especially the big ones that Warren was hitting at full speed. It turns out that both front coil springs were snapped. Shattered. Broken. Whatever you want to call it. Big pieces of the coil springs had broken off and disappeared. And with each one, the truck was sitting lower and lower. If it looks like the truck is tilted to the side in the above picture, that's because it is. So, we were out of the race. We didn't have much suspension to begin with. But after that, we had almost none in the front. So, we were done. We were broken. Now, I'm not saying that Warren broke the truck. Even if he is a little prone to destruction. Even if he puts the occasional body part thru somebody's sheetrock. Even if things seem to light on fire or explode around him. I'm not saying that he broke it. But man was I thinking it. So, we turned around and limped back to the last checkpoint, where Warren had started driving, about 3 miles back. We told the guys there that we were officially out of the race. They asked why, and we told em. Then they said, "I thought your truck was sitting really low in the front when you came thru here." Damn. That means I broke it.

Some interesting things:

The beginning of the race is AMAZING! Where you're waiting in line, and trucks are screaming away every minute. You keep moving forward, 5 cars, then it's my turn, 4 cars, 3. Man that is the sh%#$!! That was one of the most amazing moments of my life. It took a year and a million headaches to get to that point. And then it's your turn. The dude is holding the green flag. He's looking at his watch. There're these Tecate girls lined up there. A giant arch over the street. Thousands of people watching. He points and holds up 5 fingers. 5 seconds. 4. Man. I'm getting goose bumps just writing about it. It was amazing. 3...2...1. Green flag. You floor it. You scream thru town. Both sides of the road are lined with people. Flash bulbs are going off. We get over the first jump. And... Somebody's honking. We were being passed. Already. 1 mile into the race. So much for being a rock star race car driver. Oh well. It was still the coolest thing in the world.

We saw wild horses. We came tearing around this turn, and two horses jumped up and ran across the street. That was pretty crazy.

I got to ram somebody. Well. It's not called ramming, I guess. It's called 'nerfing'. That's when you catch up to somebody and they won't get out of the way. You honk and honk, and they won't move. Or maybe they can't hear you. Either way, the accepted tactic is, you ram, er, nerf em. So, we came up on the class 11 bug. Class 11 is stock VW bugs. Stock suspension, engine, wheels. Tiny, fragile looking things. And yeah, I was driving a Hummer. But I didn't care. I chased that guy for a mile. I was honking the entire time. Right on his bumper. He wouldn't move. We couldn't wait all day. And yeah. Maybe a couple decades of driving in traffic made me want to ram him a little. So, I finally asked Robert, "I get to hit this guy right?". "Go for it" he says. Oh yeah. So I hit him. A bit harder than I meant to. And it seemed that he kinda went down some bump, right at the same time we were going up a bump. The result was, we climbed halfway up the back of his car. Well, he sure got out of the way quick after that. I hadn't expected that we were even going to pass anyone. But I actually got to RAM somebody.