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Rim 2002: A Crew member’s perspective
by The Unknown Paramedic



Clipping along Interstate 8 at triple digits I called to check in with the Primitive Racing Team. After being properly chastised for being two hours late I was informed of the news. The car was in critical condition having been in surgery early in the day for yet another gear box failure. Earlier this had rendered the Subaru WRX helpless on the side of the "Press Stage." A press stage is where you try to impress the media with your driving abilities, the performance of your car and its durability. Well, two out of three ain’t bad...

I arrived just in time. The only evidence of surgery was a small gear oil stain on the asphalt. King Richard, Chris and Karen had done another flawless gear box transplant. I had missed it, darn.


Day One, nighttime service

Only 6 miles outside Palmdale California started our scheduled work. Our first service was at night in a well lit, clean, level and spacious park-n-ride asphalt parking lot. For a Rallyist this is like an operating theater at the Mayo Clinic. All went well and only minor maladies presented themselves to our attention. At times we were actually bored. Some consideration was given to making even more room by using our ample floor jacks to relocate some of the commuter’s cars. Karen, being the wiser, nixed this quickly. So in between I helped Chris do Open Heart Surgery on our generator. After many hours on the table the "DNR" DO NOT RESUSCITATE order was written.

Day Two, daylight service
Today Karen relinquished her chair and I got to co-drive the Service Vehicle. With King Richard driving, we headed off to Lake Hughes. Chris was in the middle seat, the command seat, and Karen was….somewhere in back. With the testosterone flowing we decided to take an unplanned detour. Protest was heard to come from the back, to which I replied you are not in the "Command Seat." A response from Karen was quick in coming. "When I’m In The Truck, I Am ALWAYS in The Command Seat." My ego now as deflated as a tire popped off the bead, we headed DIRECTLY to the next service area. We spent the first hour clearing, leveling and cleaning our dirt service spot. Next time, we add gardening tools to the service vehicle. With two hours left before the first car in we took to sunning oursevelves (like Thunder Lizards) on the tarp "Uncle Phil" from Subaru had given us.


The first problem was to be a traumatic amputation. Like most things that hang down, sooner or later they are going to get damaged. The exhaust flange took one too many hits and severed the exhaust system at the end of the down-pipe. The only real problem was that performance was down due to the oxygen sensor being also left lying in the road along with 6 feet of 3 inch diameter steel pipe. It did make an interesting speed bump for those who followed. Luckily no damage was inflicted on the other Rally Cars. Oh, there was one other thing.

The Co-driver, Scott, was complaining that his nuts were as hot as the lug nuts we were taking off the car. It appeared as though the exhaust now emptied directly under Scott’s seat. Richard quickly fashioned a heat shield and they were off. I was directed in the meantime to "procure" another exhaust system. I scoured the service area high and low for a critically injured Rally car which might serve as a donor. I could not find anything that was compatible. Mike, at Road Race Engineering, did offer some more shielding material, which was greatly appreciated. My suggestion was to have Chris just sit on a bag of ice. Karen nixed this idea too. All was well when they came in for the next service. The heat shield was holding and there were no more concerns of catching the car…or Scott on fire. As for the foliage, that’s another matter. It was noted that the orange glow reflecting off the mountain-side at shift points was Paul’s new imitation of a top fuel dragster. Since there were no reports of brush fires the exhaust flames appeared to be harmless.

Back to the hotel, the Rally is over, yeah. "What transmission…you were just borrowing this and have to give it back…tonight?" Our friends from across the pond at Pro Drive had lent the team a gear-box worth 15 large so we could compete. But, this was NOT a donation, so it was back to the OR. Doing an engine swap is kind of like doing a heart transplant with its attendant glamour. Doing a transmission swap is like transplanting someone’s colon. It’s dark, dirty and smelly work... The resection went well, but the removal got a bit ugly. The result was significant contamination of the operating suite (Holiday Inn’s parking lot) and the OR crew. I have still not completely decontaminated.

Sound like fun, absolutely. The weather was great. Karen did a fantastic job in supplying us with consumables and doing what she called "Herding Cats". That’s a compliment, right? King Richard’s hard work and expertise was indispensable again. Chris, our temporary member quickly integrated into the team and was greatly appreciated. Me I provided the comic relief along with the unintentional donation of some of by own blood and tissue, with the appropriate accompanying expletives.

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