Part 1

In February I was sitting in my office looking at my calendar.  I’d been invited to join my coworkers in climbing Mt. Saint Helens on a Friday in July.  I needed to take a vacation day so I was preparing to submit my vacation requests for the year.  I picked a few days to visit family in April, take a Friday for the Eddieville race in Goldendale, WA and reserve a couple of days for hunting in the fall.  Without much else in my schedule, I decided that this was the year I was going to attend the Pikes Peak International Hill Climb near Colorado Springs, CO.  I work for Daimler Trucks North America LLC (formerly Freightliner LLC) in Portland, OR as a test engineer.  It was through work a few years before that I first learned about a Freightliner race truck that competes at the annual Pike’s Peak Hill Climb.  This got my attention as I had been involved with some type of racing since 1997 and at the time I was on a Best in the Desert truck racing team.  I soon contacted the driver, Mike Ryan, to introduce myself and show my support.  Mike Ryan is probably best known for his work with semi-trucks.  He can often be seen crashing, burning and getting blown up on screens across the United States.  Ryan has made a living as a Hollywood stunt driver and stunt coordinator for more than 25 years. Thousands have seen his work in feature films such as Premonition, Herbie Fully Loaded,  After The Sunset, The Italian Job, Training Day, Terminator 2,  and Swordfish .  Mike was hired as the stunt coordinator for the hit TV shows Mythbusters and Smash Lab as well.  Mike returned my email by sending an autographed poster and a post card that read “Thanks for your interest”.  Later, through communications with Pete Strause, Senior Manager, Western Star Engineering, regarding local desert racing, I mentioned that I planned on attending the hill climb in June.  Pete was a member of the Freightliner LLC company team that competed with a Sterling in 2000.  I had ridden in it while it was stored at work a few years ago.  Pete offered to meet with me for details about the race and where to be on the course for the best photo and video opportunities.  Now it was the last week before I left for Colorado and I got a call from Pete.  He offered to ask Mike to extend his personal race invitation to me.  So Mike and I were in touch again and he offered two race day tickets that I was then glad I had not yet purchased.   

So the trip was underway.  With Denver traffic it was a 24 hour drive straight through from Portland to Colorado Springs.  I wouldn’t be doing that again, well, except to get back home this one time.  As I settled into my hotel room on Thursday night I set the alarm to get up for the final practice day on Friday.  With practice spread over three days, groups of competitors can make several runs up and down a third of the mountain each day and still get to practice the whole mountain.  The 2:00 am alarm sounded and even though I had been in Colorado for about 12 hours, I was just now taking in the landscaping as I drove myself to the middle of Pikes Peak for the first time.  At mile 13.5 (Cove Creek) I passed the group of competitors unloading their race vehicles to park up ahead.  Without having been in contact with Mike yet, I was hoping to find the team before the start of practice at 5:30 am.  As I walked around the practice staging area checking out the race vehicles and keeping an eye out for the Freightliner, I started to see some familiar rigs.  I saw a white Honda Ridgeline.  Driven by Gavin Skilton, the Ridgeline was an in-class competitor to the RumbleGoat Racing’s Ford Ranger in the Best in the Desert race series to which I was a crew member in 2008.  I first noticed his undersized tires and consequent large fender well space as it is a modification for this kind of racing.  I introduced myself and heard praise from the team about RumbleGoat’s humble and grassroots presence in Best in the Desert.  I also introduced myself to JT Taylor with his Tube Shark/Torchmate King of the Hammers rock racer. John Herrick of CRAWL magazine mentioned to me that he was going to be there.  I finally made my way near the end of the line to find the Freightliner and team.  There sat, in real life, the truck everyone at Daimler had been staring at in their company calendars for the month of June.  I wanted to meet Mike but I was equally excited to look over the truck. The nature of my job involves testing and knowledge of pre-production semi tractors with a combination of production and prototype parts so I was eager to see the modifications for a race application.  The semi is a day cab Freightliner Cascadia with a single rear axle.  It is powered by a built-up Detroit Diesel Series 60 marine engine.  And with a compounding turbo system developed by Borg Warner and John Todd, chief designer at BD Turbo in Abbotsford BC, it puts out 1,950 horsepower and they say close to double that amount in torque.  I spotted Mike and shook his hand.  He liked my pink Detroit Diesel ball cap and mentioned that he had never seen one of those.  I jokingly suggested that it was because he was not a girl.  I felt like we were old friends, reunited by a common interest.  I knew right away that this was going to be a good group and a good weekend.

Part 2

I headed back up the hill to the car.  That is when I got the first glimpse of how lower oxygen levels at high altitudes affects coastal folks like myself.  Just a brisk walk on a slight up hill made me a little out of breath.  It turns out I had parked at the eventual practice starting line and a 1970 Camaro was just taking off screaming up the hill.  I couldn’t have picked a better spot if I had tried.   

I was also introduced to Woody, the Michelin rep from Portland; a friend of Mike’s and fellow stunt driver, James, from WA; and a few others like the crew chief, Mike’s son, and another tag-along stunt driver from Portland.  I was quickly surprised with an offer to ride in the truck for the third practice run.  The crew chief corrected that saying he had third position and I could have fourth.  I was super excited as I was not even expecting necessarily to sit in the truck.  I stuck close to the team to make sure I didn’t miss my ride.  Upon Mike’s return from his third practice run he decided to trailer the semi due to what he thought was the transmission slipping.  The team wanted to save it for race day in case they were not able to diagnose and fix the problem in time.  They quickly got on the phone to try to resolve the issue.  The truck has a Euro-Super Truck race prepped ZF Ecomat automatic transmission, one of 2 ever built this way and the experts were not in attendance.  While it sat they decided to change out the rear tires.  The big key to Mike’s low ET's is the Michelin tires. He has the very good fortune of having experimental tires front & rear. The rears are 445/50/R22.5 X-1 Wide Base radial truck cases with a Trans Am racing rain compound. And Mike is no hands-off driver.  He got right in there to torque the lug nuts to over 500 ft-lbs each, all 10 for one wheel.  A job reserved for a really large torque wrench and all your body weight.  Since I thought the practice day was over for Mike, I walked down the hill to watch the group of competitors practicing the lower section cross their finish line below us.  I watched and photographed the famed Rhys Millen in his new Hyundai pass the finish line flagger and slide around the last corner.  Rhys is a previous rally driver, champion drifter and a stunt driver.  He was one of two expected to bust the 10:01.41 minute all-time record set by Nobuhiro ‘Monster’ Tajima in 2007.  Tajima had broken the previous Millen family record of 10:04.06 minutes, set by Rhys’ father in 1994.

Just as I considered walking back to the team, I saw billows of smoke in the air above the starting line for Mike’s practice group.  I soon saw the giant machine taking off up the hill and knew it had to be the semi, nothing else was that big.  I hurried back to find that he had taken another run after deciding it was the rear end, not the transmission giving him grief.  Detroit Locker just this year developed a limited-slip gear for him which really put the power to the ground, but was too loose and he over powered it.  The guys added shims to try to remedy the problem.  When Mike couldn’t find me, he offered my ride to another.  I remained positive and just said, “There’s always next year”.  Before arriving I had decided that the Pike’s Peak Hill Climb was probably something I wanted to do once in my lifetime.  But just as with any racing, it’s always better to be with a team than to go as a lowly spectator.  Hanging with Mike’s team had made it a much better experience so far and one that I wanted to have again and again.  I began to wonder why I had never had more knowledge of and interest in this race.  After all, hill climbs are my favorite area of racing and I had just found the most epic one of all with the best of connections.  Mike’s Freightliner is always a fan favorite.

The next day had no race activities scheduled other than the vintage race cars being displayed for show at the park.  Mike’s team took the morning and afternoon to finish fabricating and installing a new wing at a local shop and then had us for a BBQ dinner at their hotel.  Mike apologized again for me missing my ride the day before at practice.  Later I was asked by a team member how it came about that I was attending the race.  I mentioned that a coworker of mine had asked Mike to extend his invitation to me since I had told him I was going to be attending.  Mike overheard and asked, “You were really going to come already?”  I replied with a yes and told them that I had made plans back in February.  Mike asked again, “Really?”  He sounded surprised that I had taken the initiative to come all the way on my own, just to watch.  He must have been impressed because it was a bit later that he started thinking out loud and said that he wondered if the race officials would let me ride during the race.  He made a promise to find out the following day and my hopes of a ride in the truck were renewed.  This trip was getting more exciting by the moment.

Part 3

It was race day.  I agreed to meet at the team’s hotel at 4:00 am to carpool with the team up the mountain to the pit area for the day.  Every day I had spent in Colorado so far had started in the dark.  As we approached the gate to the mountain, we were already on the only road having access to the mountain and we were driving in the opposite lane, passing more than a mile of spectators waiting in their cars in line to drive up and take their places on the mountain for the day.  I decided then that the Pike’s Peak Hill Climb fans are hardcore.  Since I hadn’t heard of any hotels being sold out, I suspected they were made up of mostly locals and were dedicated to attending every year.  The team gathered in the designated pit area and unloaded the truck right along the road to the start line and the rest of the mountain. 

We had a long wait until show time.  As the last competitor of the day, Mike and the crew had time to catch up with hill climb friends all morning at the start line.  Mike’s team was the first I had been with that was not rushing to finish last minute projects the morning of race day.  They were essentially race ready and we stood around to answer questions that spectators had about the truck.  I spent some time walking around but I tried not to go too far.  I had learned two days before what kind of opportunities one misses if one doesn’t stick close to the team.  Eventually I connected with Mike as he was about to inquire about me riding with him during his run.  He sent Matt to deliver the news.  It turned out that all I had to do was sign a waiver and I was in.  I hurried to the official’s booth to get that taken care of.  The lady handed me the clip board and told me to print and sign my name on the next line with all the others.  The sheet was in half with the legal text folded underneath.  I joked that I could see they didn’t want me to know what I was getting myself into. 

Since Mike didn’t need me until after the motorcycle classes began their race, a group of us walked a mile or so past the start line to watch.  All classes except the motorcycle classes started one at a time.  Each competitor must summit before the next competitor could start.  With some competitors breaking, going off course, or having medical emergencies and never making it to the summit, it was a long day.  Finally the first group of motorcycles passed us.  That was my queue so I rushed back to the start line.  I was quickly ushered to the crew truck and handed my fire suit.  I sat in the back seat, and behind me, on the opposite side of the truck, Mike was suiting up as well.  I made my first ascent into the truck and seated myself deep into the passenger seat.  James hooked me into all the safety equipment as I checked out my surroundings and I listened to his instructions of how to get myself out.  I hoped that I didn’t need to use them.  Then we were off to the start line. 

Part 4

It was after 1:00 pm and a million thoughts were going through my head for the next few hours.  It started with the spectators.  I could see joy in their eyes, anticipation, and jealousy if I could have told them how I had earned my position in the passenger seat.  I wanted everyone to know how humbled I was to be in that seat and how I felt like I was doing it for everyone who would never have an opportunity like I did.  The race started to feel like a job.  I knew Mike’s mission was to beat his personal record as he had no in-class competitors.  We were doing this for the team, his family, the spectators and officials. 

Before we took off from the start line, the local news reporter was perched in the door sill preparing to interview Mike on air. He asked the reporters name and then introduced me. He told her that it was the first time he had a co-driver and she asked "Why now?" He said, "I don't know. But I figured the first one ought to be from my sponsor, Freightliner."  He had already expressed his worry for my safety. He mentioned that he wouldn't want his son to ride with him because he wouldn't want to come back if his son didn't. I thought 2 things. First, is he going to be so worried about me being safe that he is going to forego a new record to "drive safe"? And second, should I be concerned that he is less worried about coming back without me than his son?

It was important to me that I didn’t do anything to disturb the possible record-breaking run.  As I considered the potential draw-backs of having a passenger I decided that I wouldn’t talk or touch anything except my safety equipment.  Even though I was technically in the co-pilot position, this wasn’t the kind of race where I was going to be able to help a 16-year Pikes Peak Hill Climb veteran, much less a Hollywood stunt driver, navigate the mountain.  I anticipated a wild ride, but I’ve been in enough vehicle maneuvers to reserve screaming for roller coasters, spiders and surprises. I trusted him.  His credentials spoke louder than my fears of the unknown.  I did as planned.  I sat there and enjoyed the ride.  He did let me flip one switch a couple times.

Part 5

I didn't have too many expectations only because I wanted to be able to take in all new thoughts during the ride instead of checking off the ones I had pre-race.  But a few things surprised me. He didn't come into the corners as hot as I thought he would and I didn't really feel any G's, nothing like you would on an amusement park ride. But I'm sure it was just the pure weight of the machine.  It probably took a bunch of the feeling out of it.  In looking at some of the pictures taken of us on the mountain that day, I can see more flex in the suspension than I ever felt in my seat.  However, it definitely wasn't short of fast.  The fastest part of the course was going through Glen Cove where there was a long stretch and slight incline. As soon as we came around the corner I could see the wide open, probably a 1/4 mile stretch, filled with hundreds of people. I could see their arms raise, pumping the sky, and the smiles and silent cheers.  The seat was high so without something to rest my feet on, I decided to hold them out in front of me so my heels quit banging under the seat.  I laughed inside at the thought of the spectators knowing I was riding like a child, with my feet suspended. 

He only went off road where it wasn't dangerous.  He sent many rows of people diving down banks and missed unattended roadside photography equipment by mere inches.  He powered out of drifts without braking and with very skilled back and forth steering wheel movements. I heard him speak several times where I felt like time had just been lost and I can only guess that they were curse words.  I shared in his frustration at not being able to snap the tail around at times. We lost many seconds in the switch backs as well as in the gravel sweepers that he said he usually hangs it out in.  On one left hand corner he almost came to a stop to avoid sliding into the uphill bank ahead of us.  If Mike can get the handling sorted out by adding wider, stickier new front tires, stiffer front springs and a rear sway bar then he said he should be in record territory.  I saw a few unsuccessful competitors littered along the way.  They were mostly in an area without spectators.  I giggled at one competitor who stood cheering us on alone and up hill from his motorcycle out of harms way. 

It was a little over half way up, coming out of the trees into the bare mountain switchbacks that I could start to see the vast land below. Thunder storms and lightning surrounded the mountain at a just-safe-enough distance for the spectators out in the elements. I could see the rain falling from the clouds at an elevation just above us over Colorado Springs and it faded out as though it never reached the earth. That is where it got emotional for me. I was holding back tears thinking about how lucky of a girl I was. It's one thing to do something amazing, down in a dungeon, out of sight.  And it's a completely different feeling to do it in the wide open for everyone to see, to put it in perspective, and to realize that life, at that moment, is WAY bigger than you. It was my first time up to that summit, ever, and to think about how I was getting there was amazing. I was the first person ever, to do what I was doing, riding with Mike Ryan to the 14,000 foot peak at over 90mph at times, alone on a 2 lane road closed to anyone but us. He never slowed going from pavement to gravel, in fact the gravel corners were likely faster. I could hear rear tires screaming, knowing it was way louder outside than what I could hear over the range of engine revs.  It was a deep squeal.  A squeal coming from tires with over twice the contact patch of a high-squealing tire on a muscle car in a burnout contest.   

Finally it was a checkered flag on the left, full power in the middle, and open air to the valley laying 8000 feet below us on the right.  The flagger waved violently as though to share in our victory.  Or was it his way of showing a proud approval that we had finished the job and done it well?  Mike powered beyond the finish line into a drift and I was reminded once again how much control he had as we quickly approached the sea of competitors that filled the top of the mountain.  It was 50 motorcycles first, sitting on their bikes with hands raised, clapping.  Then rows of competitor’s cars lined up for the return trip down the mountain.  Reaching the summit, I didn’t know what to find.  I was surprised that it was flat.  There was no false summit and no higher point than where we were.  Mike positioned the truck in an open area, media waiting, and stepped out for an interview.  It was snowing. The first weather that we had seen all day somehow held off until we summitted.

Part 6

I told Mike on the summit that I was holding back tears, it was so awesome. He said, "Wait until we go through the parade on the way down. It's unlike anything you've ever seen. The fans, it just brings you to tears to see them so excited." He was right. I have never been as outwardly excited a spectator as any of those people. Because of the many group areas to spectate on the mountain, we had enough people in each spot to go through 5+ "parades". They all lined up on the drivers side, cheering, motioning a pull of the chain for Mike to sound an air horn (we unfortunately didn’t have), taking pictures, and banging on the door all at the same time. It was continuous waving from both of us. So much that I had to switch hands.  The snow quickly turned to rain, big rain drops, as we dropped in elevation.  The spectators were proud and true. I watched sleeping bags, camp chairs, children, ponchos, anything put over their heads to keep dry fall from above them to use their arms to motion cheer and congratulations and “thanks for the show” as we came around the corners.   

At the start of the descent we were in the back of the pack of competitors, following the media vehicle as instructed.  It was then that I realized that our mission was only half over.  The race was done, but we had another whole leg of the course to return to our team.  There were two gentlemen in the back of the media vehicle with the hatch open, motioning position changes to us for their camera shots.  We followed closely then backed away and did power slides, flirting with the camera.  They smiled to the side as they brought their heads up from behind their cameras as to say “Mikey, are you done playing?”  Then Rhys Millen joined the show and we played back and forth.   

I was never scared. I had total trust in his skill, and I could see he was proving me safe very quickly into the race. I actually told myself before the race that we were going to crash just so I was mentally prepared. We didn't crash but we lost power twice coming down the hill. The engine shut off, the dash was dark and everything was mechanically silent.  He said, "We lost power, we have no brakes" as he stood with both feet on the brake pedal. It took 40 to 50 feet rounding a corner both times to get the machine stopped. I was thankful it was not on a more steep part of the mountain. The truck has power assisted hydraulic brakes and belt driven power steering. One can understand my concern. It was a loose wire on the shut off switch that we were able to remedy for the rest of the descent that was shutting us down. 

Back at the pit I was let out for the first time since I had been strapped in over an hour before.  I must have done my potty breaks right because I was still dry and I didn’t have to go.  I was wearing a grin that would not leave my face.  My experience felt so special to me and I knew I couldn’t share it no matter how badly I wanted to.  I tried to say a little bit and most of it came out over the next day or so.   

Unfortunately I was in a hurry to go.  I had planned all along to depart before 3:00 pm.  I had to be on a plane in Portland at 10:00 am in two days and with a 24 hour drive that gave me one decent night of sleep.  I was headed, for the rest of the week, to the North Carolina Freightliner plant for work.  I made one stop in town to get some beverages for the road and ran into two of Gavin Skilton’s crew.  I told them that I had ridden in the truck and had to elaborate that it was during Mike’s race run and that I was at the summit with Gavin.  They both dropped their jaws and held their hands high as I raised mine to slap them a high five.  They were the first people outside of the team to realize the opportunity I had just had and it felt good to see their excitement.  Their reaction was the exact opposite of what I expected out of my parents and that is why I never called them before the race.  So I spent the first few hours of my trip back planning the phone call and playing the conversation over in my head.  It wasn’t until I got home, posted a bunch of pictures, and said a few words on the Jeep forum that I’m a member of, that there was a trigger from one of the other members and the thoughts just flowed.  I wrote a very long post about some of the things in this story.  That is when John Herrick asked me to write a piece for the magazine.  CRAWL magazine was running a “Women in the Dirt” series.  This story approaches 5000 words, but it was pared down to about half that for the magazine.  But that’s ok, the whole story will always be mine to share.

The three page spread plus the cover of the September/October 2010 issue #24 of CRAWL Magazine:



 

The video of our run up Pikes Peak: