Top Gear at the legendary Baja 1000
Another epic TG mag adventure from the past 20 years: 1000 miles of Mexican madness...
Posted: 14 Oct 2013
Race day: it's five hours to race start. Wanting Justin to have confidence in his driver, I tell him I've slept brilliantly. This is a lie. I keep quiet and start the complex procedure of getting dressed. There are many layers and lots of leads that have to be plugged in. Only one of these attaches to my penis. Others control airflow to the helmet, radio communications and drinking water. There's a kidney protector, a neck collar, a dust skirt and an anti-chafe vest. When we march down to the car, we do so in slo-mo, feeling like Apollo astronauts. BC-6 looks immaculate. We stow our gear and wave our team-mates off. You don't do the Baja solo - well, you can, but only if you're certifiable.
The plan is that we'll do the first 400 miles before handing on to another pair, Jessi and Josh, who in turn will link up with a final pair, Steve and Doc (actually a dentist), for the last stint into La Paz. Provided I give BC-6 to them in one piece. This is preying on my mind. We're the last of six cars in the Baja Challenge class. One and two are Baja veterans, aiming for good results. Cars three through five are being driven by a posse of Monster-sponsored extreme sports athletes. Much fist-bumping occurs from people whose crotches have less ground clearance than the cars they're driving. I look across at Justin and feel pity. I've done some rallying, but he's a motorsport virgin, and I've a nasty feeling I'm about to deflower him in the most brutal way possible.