While not all that vintage, Roger Norman's Category 11 truck blasted its way to a category
Walking through contingency row the next morning was like passing through a time machine into an off-road carnival from the late '60s. Lining the streets of Mexicali were vintage Bill Stroppe Broncos, Meyers Manx dune buggies, Edsel and Studebaker sedans, Funco sand rails and early Class 1 cars. Accompanying all those cool rides was a literal who's who contingent of legendary drivers and early innovators of off-road racing. Parnelli Jones, Walker Evans, Malcolm Smith, Bob Gordon, Bruce Meyers, Curt Leduc and the entire McMillin family just started the list.
The thousand miles between Mexicali, near the U.S. border, and La Paz was sliced into three sections. The first section through the Salada and Diablo dry lakebeds, San Felipe and Coco's Corner, a mere 379 miles, put teams in Bahia de Los Angeles for the night. Another 398 miles on day two landed them in Loreto. And if their stamina and vehicles could hold together for the final push, a light day of only 284 miles, the checkered flag awaited them in La Paz.
My longtime wheeling buddy Jim Harris (AKA "Uncle Willy" to the dozens of race teams whose cars he welded, winched, wrenched on or towed) and I were a few miles into the course when the green flag dropped and Parnelli Jones threw his custom Chevy Blazer into gear.
In true Mexican 1000 tradition, the race was open to just about anything with a motor, eve
Chasing and shooting the race was almost as fun as racing. We got to pick up the stragglers, help the guys who broke down, ran out of gas or got stuck, and listen to the dozens of trackside yarns of current and yesteryear. The common denominator, whether broken down or doing 80 mph with their hair on fire, was "fun." While it was technically still a race and top honors would be highly coveted, the Mexican 1000 was just plain fun. Dirty, sweaty, raccoon-eyed, drivers would crawl from their trusted steeds with ear-to-ear grins, shaking their heads and saying... "I don't know what I was thinking when I signed up, but this is awesome." And the scene would repeat itself hundreds of times in the next three days.
On the afternoon of day three, racing legend Bob Gordon sped into La Paz in his Toyota Class 1 buggy to claim the first Mexican 1000 trophy in almost 40 years. As the field arrived (52 of the 92 teams finished), each team reflected on their own accomplishments. Just getting to the checkered flag in a 1970 Meyers Manx VW or vintage Bronco was cause to celebrate. Past the checkered flag, La Paz rolled out the red carpet and thousands of locals kept the party going late into the night.
There are rumors that NORRA may be looking at doing this again, possibly even a series of vintage races. If this comes to fruition, do whatever you can to attend or pull a rig out of the mothball fleet and be a part of history. Stay tuned to www.norra.com. We'll be there.
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All you need to do is flip through Marty Fiolka's book 1000 Miles to Glory to find vintage
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You don't see one of these every day. A lifted, locked, and race-prepped AMC Hornet. Barel
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If there is any one vehicle that epitomizes Baja, it's the Meyers Manx VW-based buggy. Wit
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If you look on Page 47 of the book 1000 Miles to Glory, you'll see this exact No. 8 Burro
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Dirt racing is ingrained in the people of Baja, and the cities of Bahia de Los Angeles, Lo
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Robert and Morgan Laughlin spent a total time of 1,432 minutes behind the wheel getting to
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The public may have snubbed the snub-nosed Ford Edsel back in its day. But little did they
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Less than a mile into day-three, a dozen or so competitors became bogged to the axles in a
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If anyone had a game face on, it was racing legend Walker Evans. Walker shocked the racing
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The people of Baja love their racing, lining up at every corner, or in this case abandoned
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STEEEKERS, STEEEKERS. If you head to Baja for a race or just vacation, bring a bundle of s