In a blur of a week the Riot crew had turned a thousand-point punch list into a handful of jobs as they eased the little convoy of race and chase vehicles down from the mountains and into the valley at Laughlin. With the still bitter taste of a mechanical failure limiting our success the prior weekend at the Henderson Desert Classic the team was determined to create a different outcome on this ground.

Early arrival gave us a choice spot to place our camp, right on the infield straightaway with a commanding view of all the action. Immediately upon arrival we began assembling the hospitality suite. The frame went up easily enough, although the canopy proved to be a real trial in the 15 to 20 mph breeze that seemed to magically appear as the canopy came out of the bag. Eventually, we had it all together with carpet, heat and Christmas lights creating a nice atmosphere for the work left on the truck and in the days to come a view of high octane thunder only feet away.

Shortly after dark we made our way down to the hotel and joined the group of racers looking for the illusive meet and greet that SNORE was holding along with registration. After a couple of laps between the parking lot (34 degrees) and the lobby, it was determined that registration was the meet and greet and anyone who was tough enough to stand out in the parking lot could meet themselves.

Morning brought the drivers meeting which was held in a loose crowd around the start/finish line and was conducted from the back of a pickup. You have to love the SNORE style: no non-sense and completely adequate with room for some good color commentary. Aside from the usual safety and rule information, the meeting addressed the time trial which was to be run mid-day. The time trial was quite short, and rather than being run in a loop it was the first two miles +/- of the course in reverse. A lottery for start spots put us pretty close to the front of the TT and Class 1s. As we waited for our turn it was hard to not notice that the actual timing was not quite as scientifically controlled as one might hope for, but given the spread in the field this probably did not matter in all but one or two racer’s bids for start position.

Saturday, with all of our last-minute prep complete, we cruised to the line-up at the start to take our place alongside Robert Strunk’s #22 TT, and with Skylar Nielsen of VitaBrevisFilms overhead in a heli shooting video as we charged off the line. With the rev limiter pinging as Marc stoked the RWR-built demon under the hood we moved through the first half mile with the hordes on the hills cheering. The first test section on the track was a fourth mile of g-out whoops that followed a narrow ridge before spitting the trucks out into more open ground of the power line. #68 devoured the climb uphill in style, and within the first five miles of the race we were on the bumper of the #53 truck and looking for an opportunity to get by. The track stayed up on the hill for a mile or two before a puckering drop off delivered the trucks down about 150 feet to the track below.

At one point while chasing the #53 truck, a misread on a hard left resulted in a slide over a berm and a stalled motor, which cost a bit of time, but we reeled them back in before long. On #53’s heel is where we lived for the better part of four tough laps. We would charge into the choking hail of rocks and dust off of their ass only to be slowed by peek-a-boo g-outs and jumps that would send us into a series of linked recoveries just long enough for them to once again gain ground on us. The track did not offer that many spots for a clean pass and it seemed more and more certain as we gained and lost on #53 that the infield was going to be our passing zone.

As the infield strategy was developing, so was an increasing vibration in the back of the rig. We could not believe it. After the previous weekend’s troubles it was impossible to accept that the differential was taking itself apart again. With the format of the race there was no plan other than to go for it, so with the mental baggage of an exploding gear Marc bore down and drove the truck like a rental car. On the last lap after eating the dirt off the bumper of the #53 for 54 and a half miles we finally had our chance. With their truck’s right rear quarter exposed on the first button-hook turn in the infield Marc took the high ground and let them out of the turn clean despite my screams of “Hit the fuckers!” But this gave us great speed coming out of the turn, and with enough runway in the straightaway we caught and finally passed them, in the air no less, and right in front of our own cheering pit.

After the first day of racing we were third in class with six minutes to make up to Cameron Steele’s first. A long afternoon and evening of a differential exchange was a bit of a buzz kill in the Riot camp as the question loomed: How long will this one last? Despite tireless support and vigilant effort to remedy the issue, the Riot team and every bit of support from Gear Works still could not erase the plaguing doubt about the fifth third member in two weeks.

Day two of racing had us starting in the fourth flight off the line. We were lined up next to a class one #124, and they moved off the line a little faster than Riot, but became nothing more than a memory as soon as we hit the first section of g-outs in the now familiar loop. With time to find on the course and clear air ahead Marc screamed around the track in what would prove to be our fastest lap of the weekend.

In that first lap about two thirds of the way through we saw how quickly we were gaining on Ron Whitton’s G&R TT. With rekindled fury Marc hammered the now utterly torn-up, whoop infested, organ grinding highway to hades that the course had become. After about two miles of gain and loss we had an opening in the bottle-necked crucible of violence just before the infield.  As we won the inside line on the last hard right Whitton slammed the door on the pass and we traded some paint. Again, despite my screams for blood, Marc showed his class by lifting and waiting rather than driving through the right side of Whitton’s pretty yellow truck. Blasting into the infield we hovered over the bumps in Fox Shock-induced invulnerability, and in a heartbeat we won the inside line on Whitton again and this time passed them cleanly. Our pit cheered loudly enough for us to hear them inside the truck as we passed the Riot camp.

Before we knew it the truck was flying up the power line again. This is where we felt the same old shit starting to emanate from the poisoned pumpkin again. Feeling it and also recognizing how well Marc was moving on the course I did not dare to even talk about it for fear of distraction. The second, third and fourth laps were much like the first with mostly clear air and a comfortable knowledge of the loop. The growls in the rear end of the truck, however, were not the same. The power line straightaway saw us moving at speeds approaching 100 mph earlier, and now with the truck completely wrung out in third it was making only 84 mph. With the same same list of options (none) we charged on and crossed our fingers for just 20 more miles out of this gear to capture a place on the podium. We had passed Cameron Steele parked on the side, and the reports from our pit had us clearly in first. Having passed Whitton all we had to do was maintain our position and finish. Another lap down and into the fifth and final lap, reports of Whitton being close on our heels caused us to hammer out of the start for the last time around. As Marc pushed up through the gears it was pretty clear we were in trouble. The differential sounded like a blender full of lug nuts. No speed build and then the death rattle of the pinion gear throwing whole teeth as the oil in the axle tube became expensive chunky ferrous chowder. Marc had the wisdom to rip the truck to the left just before it stopped in a convulsive screech. Game over. Whitton blasted past and I started swearing like an over-caffeinated Tourette’s victim in a cigarette burn contest.

Tough break and still impossible to accept, but with an incalculable number of things that can go wrong we had managed to have only one slow us down in the last 360 odd miles of racing between the two events. Even with the short turn around, the truck ran exceptionally well on a course that was wicked in every way. Marc drove his heart out and the desired results were so near. Finishing third in class despite the DNF on day two is pretty okay. The whole team worked hard, long hours leading into and during this race, and despite the failure being a bit out of anyone’s control it still made for a long and quiet ride home (except for the hose incident at the gas station leaving Laughlin).