After a leisurely 5 day pre-run of the recent Baja 1000 with 11 of my closest friends. We made our way to a beautiful bay on the west side of the peninsula where the race course passes just a few yards from the emerald waters of the subtropical pacific ocean. We picked out a location with a lovely view of the water and proceeded to do what we do. We set up a full service pit complete with all the stuff one would expect to find in a full service pit, but with one addition. The 5 Bermashave signs laid out in the mile or so preceding our two day home invited any racer to stop in for Hot Coffee, Nuts & Bolts, Oil & water, welding and last but not least a huge banner declaring We Fix Stuff Free! I'll tell anyone who cares to listen that 700 miles into the Baja 1000 you see a lot men and equipment that have been put to the test and even more that are at the breaking point. We were scheduled to gas 19 bikes, 2 quads and a 7 truck and for the most part our scheduled charges went of without a hitch. We did however have 2 guests worthy of special note.
At 3:25 AM Friday morning a motorcycle rider stopped at the edge of our pit and asked how much for a cup of coffee? I had just woken up to start my shift and had 2 fresh pots brewing. I informed the rider the coffee free but was not ready yet and he said that was OK he'd wait. Odd I thought for a guy in a race to wait for a cup of coffee but we helped him from his mount to a seat by the fire. The man was freezing his gaze was fixed off in the distance, he looked terrible. I deduced by his race number that he was in his late 40s. His hands were cramped like an arthritic geriatric and his eyes were puffy like a guy on a 4-day drunk. I asked him if he was OK? He replied in a scratchy monotone voice " I'm tired", Before the coffee was done perking he was dosing by the fire. One of the guys was just getting him some fresh java when a class 8 stopped in with no brakes. We spotted a broken rear break line and while we were fashioning a repair our guest arose from his place by the fire and headed for his bike. As he was leaving, I shouted to him my standard question." What mile did you get on at?" He made a slow turn toward me and responded "mile 0". We all paused for a moment from our task to watch our super guest mount up and ride off into the night.
Just before dawn we began to get reports of a rider that had cartwheeled in the silt beds some 50 miles to the north of us. In no time the radio rumor mill had the guy in the chopper on his way to San Ignacio. Word had it he was bleeding badly from a head injury, he supposedly had a couple of broken ribs, a possible broken leg and multiple minor injures. 2-3 hours later a bike pulls into our pit. It's one of our riders he comes to a stop and falls over with the bike on top of his leg. The guys race over lift the bike off of him and sit him up. It's the human canon ball; he is a Japanese guy 135 lbs. soaking wet. He's covered in his own blood. One of his fingers is sticking out at 45 degrees to his hand, he's holding his ribs, it looks like he has a broken leg, he can barley stand. One of our guys is an EMT and he sets the guys finger and puts a splint on it. He takes a drink of water, The crew tries to talk him into staying but he speaks no English. He keeps pointing to a wristband that has the number 16 on it. We are the 14th pit in a chain of 20 pits set 50 miles apart. The rider's wristband indicates he is supposed to get off at number 16, 100 miles down course. He refuses to stay. One of his friends is there weighting for the bike. One of the guys starts his bike for him but the rider can't swing his broken leg over the seat, so the guys get him a milk crate and he is the most grateful man in the world. He situates his twisted carcass atop the bike as the crew holds him up and off he goes into the post dawn dust. 2.5 hours later we here a radio relay that the Japanese rider made his pit he got off the bike sat down and passed out cold right there.