Tension mounts. And falls off again.

Richard decided to teach me a lesson today, sending me a message minutes before Ian and Sheila set off. “One cyclinder mis-firing, suspect HT lead”. Great, just what you need to start the day with a smile. It’s just his way of letting me know that not all updates are necessary! Ian had correctly diagnosed the fault on the way to the Start line (here’s a tip Ian, next time, do that sort of thing driving to the bivouac after the Finish please) so it was a nail biting 4 hours of desert driving before they could stop at the service point in the deepest, darkest corner of Liwa. Actually, if we’re being honest, it’s really quite well lit down there at mid-day.



Richard Bailey. Top Bloke. Dodgy Overalls.

 Then Richard “Is than an HT lead in your pocket or are you just shocked to see me?” Bailey leapt into action, ripping the bonnet off with his bare hands and, having thus rid himself of the silly frilly lace up headgear he was wearing, shouted instructions at Ian as he got to work replacing the lead. But he had his back turned (see legal notice below) There was high tension in the air, which was a shame because it’s supposed to go down the cable from the coil to the spark plug, so having then remembered to put the other end onto the plug, Ian slammed the bonnet shut, gave Sheila the thumbs up and said “Let’s go love, she’s Champion”. “That’s odd” replied Sheila as the doggy duo drove desert wise in the direction of a daunting day’s duning destiny “I could have sworn they were NGKs”

Legal Notice

At no point during the “It’s not a Service Stop” did any members of the crew other than Ian or Sheila touch the car. Nobody else approached the car, looked in the general direction of the car, nor knowingly admitted the presence of a race car which may, or may not, have resembed a blue Nissan Patrol, had they in fact seen it. Which they didn’t. Because they weren’t there. They were sat next to me in Dubai at the time and I have three witnesses to that fact, only one of whom could be legally defined as being pathologically inebriated at the time. But the other two are trustworthy(ish) enough.

Legal Not Notice

Don’t worry, personal joke. You had to be there. But we weren’t there. Were we lads…..


Anyway, back to the thickening plot. With a woosh and a wave and a cheery parp parp (I blame the brussels) Ian and Sheila hurtled forth into the sandy bits, where they, um, got stuck about 45 seconds after the “Not a Service Stop”. Not to worry thought Ian, I’ll just get the car free and. Err, oh bugger. Ok well now I’ll get it free from this bit and erm… Well anyway, the view from the top of the dune was

The enitre SAR squadron, grounded. They wooden fly.

good and the radio reception meant that Sheila could get up to date with The Archers, but soon Ian was back in the car and off they jolly well trundled. If 125kmh on sand can be described as trundling. Which it can, in much the same way as falling out of a plane can be described as ‘a bit of a bump’. Speaking of industrial accidents, poor Malcolm and Patrick fell foul of a rather sad situation at the Not a Service Stop. Because so many medical evacuations had to be made (10% of the competitors had accidents today!), the helicopter refueling bowser at the nearest hospital (I know it well and have counted the ceiling tiles there for hours) was drained of its contents. In the words of Bob Marley “No Avgas no fly” and if No Fly then No Medics and no medics means that a lot of competitors who arrived shortly after Ian and Sheila departed the area, were told to return to the bivouac on tarmac and take a time penalty. Boo hiss. And STILL no cheerleaders.

Anyway at that moment Richard and Fred lost satellite reception. More precisely, I had to go and do a product demonstration 30kms from the office, so was unable to send Richard my customary “It’s two minutes since I last sent you an update as to their whereabouts” message. I would imagine Richard and Fred were frankly rather grateful. They were tension free for hours, much like the old spark plug lead.

When I returned to the office (yes, the demo went well, Thank You for asking) Ian and Sheila were just minutes from the finish line, having endured a 20 minute stuck about an hour earlier. Just imagine if during that time, a passing Khazakranianslav TV crew had been passing and offered their assistance. What a moral dilemma our glorious role models would have been faced with. Do we wave them on cheerily despite our exhaustion, or do we ask them to tow us out? Thankfully, no such event occurred, which was lucky.

Legal Notice

It just didn’t. Alright.

Ian and Sheila crossed the finish line at 4.20pm having started out at 9.45am in 39th place and finished in 21st place on the day. Coincidentally they will start out 21st overall tomorrow. Apparently before the start tomorrow, Nissan’s PR team are interviewing Ian and Sheila. Quite the media darlings now aren't they? Deny EVERYTHING guys & gals. You weren’t there. And I have the GPS data to prove it.

So another day duned and Ian and Sheila are ready to face Day Three tomorrow. They could probably do Day Four to be honest, but that would mess up everyone’s schedules, so Three it is. As I write, Richard is servicing the car (he’s allowed to in the bivouac – FIA regulations clearly state that he is) and Fred is beavering away. Presumably making dams out of pine trees.

RIP Iron Lady.