Living La Carrera Panamericana

Jeff Gordon

“You want to do what?” I asked when my friend Mark Barr suggested we

consider racing in the Carrera Panamericana in Mexico. The

conversation was in late 2002 regarding the running of this annual

event scheduled for October 2003. Although we had both raced together

in a variety of cars and racetracks over the past 18 years, neither

of us had ever been in a race-rally such as this. After a bit of

research and soul searching, we decided to go for it.

The Carrera Panamericana is a nearly 1,900-mile rally/race that

starts near the southern border of Mexico (50 miles from the

Guatemalan border) and finishes in Nuevo Laredo on the southern

border of the Rio Grande. It is run up the spine of Mexico over seven

days in all types of weather: from desert heat and dust to mountain

cold, fog and rain. A good portion is run on curvy, mountain roads

where guardrails are a luxury and pavement has been formulated from

any number of natural/organic resources. It is racing on public

highways in a format that would most probably be outlawed anywhere

else in the world, but this is Mexico.

The cars allowed to run in the event are composed of eight

classes, with none of the cars being newer than 1967. The fastest

class are highly modified race cars with NASCAR-style, 600-horsepower

engines and original (more or less) bodies. These cars can achieve

speeds in excess of 170 mph. The other end of the scale includes

nearly stock versions of vintage and foreign sports cars of various

engines sizes, generally produced between 1950 and 1967.

We decided that we would have the most fun and least mechanical

worries (“ya gotta finish!”) with a 1967 Porsche 911-S that Mark

found in Northern California and transported to his race shop in

Austin, Texas. Our car choice put us in Historic B Class, which

includes “cars mass produced between 1947 and 1967 with 6-cylinder

engines” among other specifics. The car and an awesome amount of

spare parts and tools were then loaded onto a trailer as Mark and

three crew members began the trek to the southern edge of Mexico. I

flew down to meet them in Tuxtla Gutierrez two days before the start

of race on Oct. 24. Many last-minute preparations were necessary,

including adding a rally computer and timer, donning the car with

official decals and number, testing our in-car communication

equipment and passing technical inspection for both safety and class

compliance. It was also a requirement to take a physical examination

and to present our personal safety gear such as fireproof driving

suit and certified racing helmet.

The day before the start of the event, we participated in several

practice runs and a qualifying session that allowed us to sort out

the car under race conditions. The original plan was for Mark and me

to share driving time during the event. After the practice sessions,

however, it became apparent that Mark drove the Porsche much better

and faster than me, and I was a much better navigator than him. We

decided that if we really wanted to do well, we should stay in these

positions for the duration.

On race day, we took our place in line with 75 other cars

representing 36 American teams, 25 Mexican teams and the balance from

10 different countries including France, England, Germany, Sweden.

The locals turned out in groves and mingled around the cars. We

signed autographs until our hands cramped. Finally, at our official

starting time of 8:09 a.m. and 30 seconds, we were given the green

flag and off we went, roaring down the main boulevard of Tuxtla

Gutierrez to the cheers of thousands of spectators lining both sides

of the roadway. It was an amazing scene to be a part of. We still

were not sure how this all worked having never done a rally event

before, but we had sought out as much advice as possible from

veterans and we felt that we were as prepared as any rookie team

might be.

The next seven days were a combination of speed sections and

transit sections that put us an average of 300 miles up the “track”

each day, culminating in a late afternoon arrival in a city or town

where the residents turned out in mass to see the cars and meet the

“pilotos” and “copilotos.” We were “encouraged” to stay for an hour

or so in every town square and sign autographs and talk to the

locals. While it was flattering, it was not the easiest thing to do

after spending all day strapped in the car under hot, sticky and

generally stressful conditions. We just wanted to relax. We felt we

had the system figured out after the first day; our times were good

(Mark was generally driving at “nine-tenths,” as we never knew what

was around the next corner except what the “book” said), and we

seemed to have the navigation right as we were on time at all of our

checkpoints. The car was good and the crew generally had little to do

to besides cleaning and checking over the car. By the third day, we

found ourselves in first place in our class and started thinking that

we just might have chance of doing good.

“Who are those guys?” was heard more than once as we made our

nightly trek to the podium to pick up our daily trophies. Evidently,

it is fairly unusual for “newbies” like us to place high in this

event.

I can’t possibly list all the highlights (or lowlights) of the

trip here, but suffice to say that we were rarely bored. From nearly

launching the car off the road by hitting a pothole in a 90-degree

high-speed corner, to hydroplaning through water crossing the roadway

in the middle of a fast corner, to screaming through the heart of

Mexico City with a police escort at 90 mph, to watching a taxi total

a beautiful Porsche 356, to seeing last year’s winner roll his car

into a creek, there was never a dull moment. The Panamericana tugs at

virtually every emotion: from nervousness to great satisfaction, from

apprehension to confidence, from shear terror to fall-down laughing.

It is hard to express.

We went into the final day’s run up to Nuevo Laredo with a

10-minute lead on the second place car in our class. While we were

confident in our ability to maintain our lead based on our

performance so far, I think we both found ourselves worrying about

the car for a change; not the replacement engine so much, as we had

run it in Texas and knew it was good, but all the ancillary things

that had been “refitted” to the new engine the night before. The car

was perfect until literally the last checkpoint/service area prior to

the final 30-mile run into the downtown finish line. We got back into

the car after a short stop, turned the key, and nothing! Hundreds of

thoughts run through your head at times like this, like “Why, after

nearly 2,000 miles?”, “We have to finish!” and many others punctuated

by any number of four-letter words. Quickly recruiting several

onlookers, we pushed the car and thankfully were able to get it

started. We jumped back in and took off down the road. Other than my

navigational instructions, I think we may have held our collective

breaths for the next 15 minutes until we crossed the finish line.

We finished first in our class and ninth overall out of 76 cars.

We were the highest placing non-V-8. We were very proud of our

accomplishment, which was far in excess of the goals we had set when

we originally decided to enter La Carrera Panamericana nearly a year

before.

* JEFF GORDON is a resident of Newport Beach.