Takin' On Terrible's Town - Racing a 2006 Ford Super Duty Race Truck

There was nothing to do but watch as Dave Turner and Billy Bunch went by. We weren't too worried at this point since there were still many miles left to go. We figured we'd catch them later.

There was nothing to do but watch as Dave Turner and Billy Bunch went by. We weren't too w

We pulled the big diesel into Pit Two. Several sets of hands went into action. The fuel cell was topped off. Water and food were given to the driver, codriver, and the live ballast. Nuts, bolts, and other vital fasteners were checked for tightness. Dylan donned a pair of protective sleeves to avoid burns from the hot engine and dove into the wiring problem. Time was running out. There wasn't enough of it to let the wiring be properly repaired, so Dylan did the next best thing: he grabbed a hammer. Dylan tried to stake the fan coupling so it would be locked solid and would turn constantly without being engaged by the fan clutch. As the last available seconds ticked off, Dylan lowered the hood and joined the rest of the crew who were safely clear of the truck, hands raised in the air to indicate "all clear." The Pit Captain gave the signal, and Kreg mashed the accelerator. Would we stay cool?

Kreg radioed our position to the pit crew. They couldn't come out to us, but they were able to get some parts to a BITD official who met us on the course.

Kreg radioed our position to the pit crew. They couldn't come out to us, but they were ab

It was a long haul to Pit Three, and we'd have to traverse some of the most remote sections of the course en route. The section between Pit Two and Pit Three was a bad place to break. Kyle called out the temperatures as we left Pit Two. "224... 229... 235... 240... 243..." The truck wasn't done overheating. We were out of time and out of luck. It was time to pack it in. Kreg looked for an exit from the racecourse and radioed the crew the dreaded news. "8117 is out of the race... we'll meet you at Fort Amargosa across from Pit Two."

There are only eight bolts that secure the driveshaft, but the number seems to double when you're on a dusty racecourse in the heat and pressed for time. This driveshaft was wasted; the splines were damaged when the driveshaft separated. Also note that the driveshaft safety loop (unseen to the right of the frame) did its job and kept the 'shaft from digging into the ground and pole-vaulting the truck.

There are only eight bolts that secure the driveshaft, but the number seems to double when

The drive home, heading south on Interstate 15, allowed some time to think about the race and about desert racing in general. Desert racing is never easy. The terrain is unpredictable and often remote. The fans might give the thumbs-up, or (in Baja) they might wave you toward the booby trap they've just built. The desert brings out the smallest weaknesses in engines, transmissions, shocks, tires, welds, and human patience. At the same time, there's no feeling quite like the one that's experienced crossing a finish line to the wave of a hard-earned checkered flag. Finishing a desert race means you've built a good truck, done a good prep job, and had a good pit strategy. Finishing a desert race means your driving skills were up to par. Finally, finishing a desert race also means you've been blessed with a visit from Lady Luck.

We were out of the race. There was nothing left to do but sleuth under the hood to make sure this problem would never happen again. There's nothing wrong with 20/20 hindsight as long as the lessons learned are applied in the future.

We were out of the race. There was nothing left to do but sleuth under the hood to make su

It had been a tough day in the desert, but quitting isn't part of Donahoe Racing's game plan. Kreg and crew have seen many a checkered flag in the past, and there are many checkered flags in their future. If you're hanging out near a finish line, keep your ears tuned for the sound of a Power Stroke. It means the DR Super Duty will be along shortly.