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Sunday, March 11:
The final day of the rally started early in the morning with a super special and then we hurriedly set off to run Guanajuatito, the longest stage on the WRC calendar. The stage is a massive 54 kilometers long and covers much of the same roads used on previous days.


As we pull up to the start line I tell John that it’s been a crazy rally and I don’t care where we finish, but just that we finish. The road surface over the first few kilometers is in surprisingly better condition than I expect and we make good time on the descent into the village of Barbosa. I play it safe through most of the blind turns, but for ones that are smooth with good visibility I push it and let the car hang out. Ten minutes go by and John calls out “40 K to go.” The road levels off and the speed of the stage increases. Every now and then I glance to the side of the road and am utterly astonished by the number of people watching from what seems like the middle of nowhere. John calls out “35 K to go” as we enter a spectator point with a series of decreasing radius turns that snake down into a creek crossing. Thousands of people completely line the side of the road. Twenty five minutes into the stage my mind wanders for only a moment and I narrowly miss putting the car into the outside ditch. Sometimes I need a good scare on stage because in a flash my adrenalin kicks in and I regain focus on my driving.



With 20 kilometers remaining in the stage, John calls “Left 4, 100, Left 1 bump” just as we come into a spectator area. I pitch the car sideways entering the left hairpin and just as I unwind the steering wheel we hit the bump. It wasn’t a very hard bump, as we hit nastier stuff earlier in the rally. But as soon as we exit the turn I tell John that the steering is screwed. Making even slight turns require more than double the steering input. In an instant the thought of placing on the podium is vanished by the terrifying fear of crashing on stage and being unable to finish the rally. I slow my pace and leave plenty of braking distance on hairpin turns just in case the steering would suddenly fail. After a few more kilometers, we enter a downhill hairpin turn and catch a Production World Rally Car re-entering the stage. Driving behind the car is almost impossible due to the thick cloud of dust. Several times we almost drive off the road just going in a straight line. At first his slow speed didn’t bother me, considering our own problems, but eventually it became maddening when his pace slowed even more going up hills. After trailing him for several kilometers we finally found a spot in the road to narrowly pass him. I constantly check the rear view mirror over the last 5 kilometers just waiting for a car to blast by us but it never happens. John and I make it to the finish in 59 minutes and 36 seconds.

As we leave the finish line John informs me we have plenty of time on the transit to the next stage due to a mid-point fuel stop. I cautiously drive the next few kilometers wondering what could have gone wrong with the car. Just before the fuel depot we stop and quickly get out of the car to investigate the problem. I remove the spare tire and am amazed at what I find. The bracket that holds both tie rods to the end of the steering rack has cracked in half. The tie rods are scraping against the frame and are held together by the thin upper half of the bracket. I have John move the steering wheel and can see that the tie rods shift and twist several inches before they end up moving in the desired direction. The only spare items I carry in the car are duct tape and ratchet straps, so I use one of the later to wrap around the whole mess to try and stiffen things up.


Painfully slow is the only way I can describe our pace for the last two stages. I keep my speed up for most of the straights and easy turns, but I’m constrained to take it slow in the tight twisty sections. My main goal is to get the car back to Leon and finish the rally. Several times I feel so embarrassed to be seen driving the car due to our slow pace. People were screaming and waving flags as we limp down the road. If only the spectators knew of our debilitating problem. Yet through some miracle we finally make it to the finish and all the way back to Leon.