What is the King of the Hammers race to me? Not particularly one thing, yet everything in a challenge that I could ever want. It’s a race where you are racing against 100 other fanatics, your ego, the elements, the trails, and the twisted thinking of the course designers. I have worked for over the last 7 years to bring Bigelow Motorsports to the forefront of Rock Sports and I have come to see that I really enjoy this type of racing and the challenges that the solitude of iron manning a race like this brings to the cerebral side of my being. This new type of racing that Hammer King Productions has put together fits my personality, it fits my team, and more important, fits my desire to be at the top of the toughest one day desert race on the planet.

The 2010 King of the Hammers race in Johnson Valley, CA would test everything that I had to give. From the get go after the 2009 season it was time to refocus on family and make sure the home fires were burning bright after a long race season in which we qualified for the big race in CA at the Rausch Creek, PA qualifier as one of the ten finishers. Taking some time off to reflect lasted about a day and we immediately jumped into the shop at Appalachian OffRoad to tear down and prep the racer for the upcoming race. 2009 was brutal on the new racer. Everything needed rebuilt. New shocks, new seals in everything, new transfer case adapter, new kingpins, brake lines, fuel cell, panels, lights, bumpers and a kitchen sink. We joked at the end, it would have been easier to just build a new buggy with as much as we had to tear down and put together to get ready for this one race.

Getting ready to leave to race is never easy especially when you are racing on the other side of the country and this year would bring its own set of challenges. Delivering the race truck to Attica, IN on the Wednesday before we we’re supposed to leave wasn’t that difficult. The snow storm which I was driving back East to MD to get on the flight to leave that weekend for CA was being difficult. It was the biggest snow fall in over 100 years in MD that would end up dropping almost 5ft of snow as we were racing in CA. Every flight up and down the eastern seaboard was being cancelled and I had to reroute to New York City with Joint Force Racing to fly out for the race after two days on the road delivering the race vehicle. I was whipped when I got on the flight to say the least.

Arriving in CA I thought we were on the set of one of those movies that forgot to turn the rain machine off. Man was it coming down. I kept watching the weather and hoping for the best but I knew water was going to be on the course and would possibly have some of the go fast sections of the course under water. I also thought about mud on the rocks and was glad we replaced the smaller Bulldog winch for a larger 9000 Bulldog comp winch because I was sure I was going to need it. Sure enough, as we arrived in Johnson Valley everything was soaked and those Dry lakebeds were surely holding water.

Fast forward to race day. Blue skies and great temps. We have a great start position at sixth off the line. We had a great week of tuning with FOA shocks and my guys had gone over my buggy from top to bottom every night to make sure everything was in great working order. I was feeling very confident in the vehicle and knew if I could keep the vehicle together we would be there at the end and bring home a top finish and contend for the win.

Leaving off the line was pretty surreal. Looking around I couldn’t believe how much this race has grown in 3 short years. This would be my third time to Johnson Valley to race coming from Maryland and knowing I had a great effort behind me I didn’t want to let anyone down. Keeping everything together and making sure the desert didn’t disintegrate the vehicle was paramount in my mind. Just at that time…the #4454 car of Nazir Adam hauled ass past me. Man was he moving in that IFS car I thought. I knew it was coming, just didn’t know when it was going to happen as he was lined up right behind us at the start. He caught us about two miles into the race and everything I kept thinking to myself about not killing the car went out the window. The race was on! Time to get it!

We made it to the first pit at MM 10 and checked things real quick and headed out of the pit in a cluster of vehicles. I passed a couple of racers back and coming around a rutted out turn around MM 12 I ran over a bush with the left front wheel and sure enough there was a big rock on the other side that catapulted the vehicle over on its right side. Barrel rolling twice sideways was a new experience especially at speed and I came to rest on my side with sand and briar bush everywhere. I quickly scurried out the buggy for fear someone would do the same as I did and land into the vehicle. Fortunately people could see me well in advance and slowed. I gave everyone that passed a disgusted thumbs up that I was OK, but severely pissed that I had just ruined the race within the first 15 minutes that I was on course. I will say this. Everyone that passed slowed to see if I was ok, which made me feel good. I quickly scanned around the rig to see if anything was broken or dislodged and everything seemed to be good, short of the buggy lying on its side. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything within 200 feet to winch to which pretty much left me up to the mercy of the desert.

Frantically looking for something to winch to I contemplated burying a rock in the ground and wrapping the winch line around it to act as an anchor. As I unspooled the winch line out to start the #699 car rolled up and asked if I wanted a tug back over. I almost cried. Without those guys yanking me back over there is no way that I’m finishing the race. Checking everything over once again I fired the motor and in a puff of smoke we were back in business.

Running down through Crowbar in the big traffic jam reminded me of Rt 95 outside of Washington, DC at 5pm on a Friday. Except in this instance the vehicles didn’t have pissed off drivers wanting to get around you, there were pissed off drivers wanting to drive over top of you. Looking down through the mess it was the who’s who of off-road racing with a Lovell, some guy referred to as Lord Palmer, a Campbell and a funny guy cracking jokes working on his rig in the middle of it named Rob Mac. Watching them all interact in the small confines of this canyon was truly a sight and one that I will not forget.

I broke out of the canyon, down the wash and headed out into what I knew was a roller coaster ride through what I referred to as the Badlands of the race course for about the next 15 miles. Stopping back at the BFG pit I had the team look the rig over, gave them a quick lowdown of what transpired and told them to hold tight and I’d be back around in a couple of hours if I could pass some more racers by MM 78. The twisty turny part of the race course was coming back up and I knew that it would test your patience and rig as going too fast would put you into the rocks and going to slow would have you on the front side of some ones bumper. I knew there would more than likely be some type of back up at the “the pass” around MM 30 and possibly taking the alternate line (which I didn’t pre run) could be a good possibility. Coming into MM 30 I could see vehicles everywhere trying to make it up through the “the pass” and winch lines pulled all over the place. I also saw what looked like tons of spectators and lots of beers in hand pointing to the alternate line and saw a couple of other rigs trying to hit the sand hill from the bottom. I knew if I could snake around them and drop down in the wash and bash up the other side at speed I could make it in one shot and pass a bunch of racers on the course. East Coaster Lou Levy saw what I was doing too and tried to cut me off, I flipped him the bird as I raced down the wash at speed and hit the sand hill at speed, in 2nd gear, high range, foot to the wood. I passed what looked like 15 rigs and the crowd in “the pass” was cheering, my motor was singing and my being was coming back to be. Shaking all the crap out of my head from the earlier roll and getting the cheese out of my whine I was back in the race and I knew if I could make it into the pits and into the rock trails that I could get back up into the top of it.

Coming back into the main pits my guys looked the rig over, fueled me up and told me to start tracking people down as I was way back there but still in the top half of the group. Running from the main pit to the back of Aftershock I knew I needed to one way or the other get through Aftershock with no issues. Last year in 09 my alternator went out in Aftershock and pretty much ended my race. I was determined not to have that happen this year. Passing the spot that left me stranded last year I tilted my visor up pulled my helmet down a little and spit on the spot that left me stranded and motor’d on. I was much happier this year now. Getting to the last climb out of Aftershock I knew it was going to be a while. It looked like there were about 10 rigs deep and it was slow going. But in the middle of it perched on a rock at the top of the falls was the greatest rock traffic cop a guy could ever want. Located smack dab in the nastiest patch of rock, hugging a big boulder with a calm and collective smile on his face was the great Walker Evans. With a quick index finger here and a palm wave there every last competitor watched Walker whether they want to admit it or not. I know sure as heck I did. Going to my grave there will be a few memories I will take with me. Getting married, watching my kids get born, and having Walker Evans smiling down on me in the middle of the greatest race in the world.

We passed multiple cars on the exit of Aftershock and got into a neck and neck race with multiple cars through Sunbonnet, Outer Limits and Martel. It was all a blur. All of the rocks seemed to blend together and the only thing I could concentrate on was not making a mistake and over taking the next rig in front of me. I could tell the race was starting to thin out now and that racers were getting fewer and fewer. The long stretch from the backside of Martel to the BFG pit was awesome. High speeds and fast racing was all too much. Looking around at the dust clouds out in front of me in the miles of vast desert in front of me pushed my foot further to the floor. Knowing if I kept up this pace I would destroy my buggy in the whoops I decided to back off a little and make sure I didn’t get passed as I knew all the rocks were really coming up. As a wise man once said “you can lose it in the desert, but this race is surely won in the rocks” I paced myself and clicked off the mileage in the radio to my pits and told them to get ready as I was going to have to make up time. Stopping for a quick splash back at the BFG pit at MM 78 my guys told me Shannon was working on his tranny and I prayed the Hughes TH350 he sold me on wouldn’t give up the ghost during my race. Running though Elvis, back through the valley floor to the mountains around Backdoor I knew we were holding our own as I kept seeing more and more racers on the side of the course either broke, wrenching or offering words of encouragement. Coming down Resolution and down the drop at Backdoor I knew the main pits were within sight and I laid into it hauling down the wash. Almost flipping the buggy on one tight turn I reminded myself of rolling at speed sucked and I needed to calm down and get it in the pits.

I made it into the pits after trying to find my way into the endless stream of UTV’s, motor homes and people as they all looked the same and I couldn’t find my way into the pits. What seemed like forever must have only been a few minutes but at race mode everything seems to slow down and the intake is amplified. My guys hustled like they never had and got me gassed up, checked out and rehydrated. My Dad made the trip out and gave me the thumbs up to make sure I was alright. I gave him the thumbs up back, told my brother Troy to hurry the heck up with the 12 gallon dump can and pissed at Bosely in the radio to make sure everything was good to go as I needed to get into the rocks ASAP. He quipped back that he had been counting racers and that we were in the top 25 and that he knew we could pass a bunch of people if we played it smart. We made the cut off at MM105 way way ahead of time. That was a great feeling. Knowing we were back in the top of the race was a great feeling. What wasn’t a great feeling was knowing Chocolate Thunder was right around the corner.

Passing a couple of racers between the main pits and the start of Chocolate Thunder I knew the trail was ugly. Ugly like the last girl at the bar looking for ride home. The trail didn’t disappoint. I followed the lines that I could see that previous racers had taken as I followed a Goodyear print here, a Krawler track there and Trep tire over there. Making my way up through the trail I made good time and got out of there as fast as possible and made my way past the big sand hill, up the go fast to Upper Big Johnson and into Boulder Dash.

Half way up Boulder Dash Jason Scherer was under the rig working on something and offered words of encouragement and told me to “GET IT”. Jason is a class act, a true sportsman and a great ex-King. It sucked to see him on the side of the course. I asked if he was good, he told me to get going and I made my way past his rig. I’m sure I heard that nasty LS7 grunt at me when I passed by. At the top of Boulder Dash is when things started to get interesting. The sun shining back in my eyes and the amount of sand I had in my contacts was killing me. It felt like small sand paper discs were in my eyes and no amount of rubbing them helped. Dropping down into Wrecking Ball I picked my lines as best as I could making good time and trying to keep my eyes open. I had always been up Wrecking Ball but had not had the chance to go down it yet. Great trail and tons of fun. About halfway down I got off my line and got a little sideways and the fuel pick up ran dry. Actually we were real sideways and in a bad way.

I tried to winch forward but the rear axle was caught and couldn’t do anything. After about a half hour of trying everything Woodlee came down Wrecking Ball and tried to drag my rear axle down to get it more level but only resulted in rolling my buggy over on its side. Man that sucked. All the racers I had passed and sure as heck I knew they were going to catch back up. I was pretty darn tired at this point. More racers were coming down and he was getting ancy so we tried to untie the winch rope from his rig and it wouldn’t budge. I had to cut my winch line extension and he ended up getting passed by someone in the process. I was feeling pretty shitty for him getting passed and me being rolled over but looking back on it I guess Woodlee can split that Longfield contingency of 2500 with me as being the first person not to qualify. Glad I could help buddy.

I ended up running my Bulldog winch line up through my light bar and back over to a snatch rock since I lost my snatch block and got the buggy level. I was able to get it started again and went to drive forward with a rear burn off the rock that had my rear axle caught and all I heard was WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP of the rear transfer case yoke smacking the chassis. Somewhere in all that the rear upper link bolt pulled out and rotated the pinion upwards and the only thing holding it all together from a mess was the plastic racing brake lines. I don’t know how? The other end of the driveshaft from the center section was stuffed up into the motor mounts. Ughhhh. It wasn’t going anywhere; it was stuffed in there hard. I worked the front end of the buggy with the cable still attached to the snatch rock and up through my light bar and got the rear end down off the rock that had me stuck. I ended up pulling cable from the front after that and got a decent pull and got more onto stable ground to work on it. I ended up getting the rear driveshaft off after a half hour and found the bolt that came out but couldn’t find the nut or the spacers so I put the bolt in, wrapped duct tape around the nut side and ran my winch cable from the front to the rear pan hard mount to keep it all together. Slowly, I ran down the rest of Wrecking Ball in front wheel drive only and did pretty well until the end and I had to come out of the wash. Hitting it a couple of times it took me a couple of more tries to get out. I was sure I was going to scatter everything in the front end as the front was hopping under full power. Getting out of the trail and almost to the pits I could hear Bosley on the radio and I told him to get ready as we needed a bunch done. Bosley and Bebee got everything fixed from a spare bolt I had on the steering knuckle and got me on my way after about a half hour in the Wrecking Ball pit but I was down almost 2 hours from the initial fubar. I know I got passed by a ton of rigs. Shannon passed me back, Jason got going again and many many more guys came down motoring through.

At this point it’s getting towards dusk and I knew I had to run Sledge, the whole top of the mountain trail and Spooners in the dark. On came the 4" Soltek Fuego's and off I went. Halfway up Sledge there were still people in the dark and I almost got the ledge line in one shot with a front dig, but the rear left tire fell off the ledge and I decided to pull cable and get on with it. I put it on its side winching up through the crack but just kept into the throttle and kept the Bulldog winch pulling and somehow it righted itself. At the top of Sledge, DSI was having his own nightmare race with no lockers and a flat and I had to winch him backwards to get around him and to keep moving forward. Did I tell you I was glad I switched out the smaller Bulldog winch for the 9000 Bulldog comp winch? After I got DSI out of the way I had to run the whole top of the mountain trails in the pitch dark. Trails I didn’t know and had only been on once before, in the daylight, at trail crawl speed, enjoying the sights.

I never lacked light I can tell you that from the Soltek Fuego’s. Those little lights bring it. What did slow me down was the not knowing what was around every curve on the top of that mountain trail in the dark. I was waiting to go flying off the mountain on every curve into the black abyss. I was also waiting for some big bad mountain gnome to carry me off into the pitch dark and take me far, far into the mountain, never to be heard from again. Up on top of the mountain, in the dark, by yourself and utterly exhausted is a pretty spooky experience. If you've ever watched the Hills Have Eye's you know what I'm talking about. Looking over my shoulder every time I got out of the rig I almost wish I had more than a pocket knife at my disposal.

At this point I was also fighting a master cylinder that kept locking up and had to stop ever so often to relieve the pressure. Getting out of the rig twice before Spooners it worked on my imagination that the rock gnomes were going to get me and I whistled while I worked. A tune a day kept the boogy man away I kept saying. About 4 miles before Spooners I noticed the motor was starting to knock from the oil pressure going down. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. Somewhere in all that running during the day and through all of those trails the fitting on the remote oil cooler line cracked and was leaking oil. Nothing terrible at this point but enough that I had to stop and dump the only quart of oil I had into it to keep going. I was hoping that would be enough to get the aluminum motor through the finish line.

I wouldn’t say Spooners was the hardest trail that I ever ran but I will say it was the hardest that I ever ran in the dark. Going into the trail I thanked the course workers for still being there and immediately noticed Belly Doc stuck in Camo's buggy with what appeared to be no rear lockers or the rear not turning at all. I tried winching them backwards to get around them but the weight of their buggy and the boulder I was dragging them across wasn’t having it and I could hear the strain the chassis was being put under. After the race we looked and the chassis was cracked in multiple places from the rolls and from winching bigger rigs than ours. They said to try and push them off the rock by running into them and I could only relish in the fact of ass ending Camo's buggy at full tilt, foot to the wood, but decided against it since I still had to finish. Pushing them off didn’t happen either as they were really really augured in and they suggested I try and take a high line up around them. Moon buggy’s are great for creative lines.

I got down through about another 100 yards of Spooners and I noticed a Jimmy's rig with no lights and getting ready to do a nasty drop. It was Jimmy and Cottin and Jimmy asked if I could stay behind them on the drop in case things got hairy. Safety first at this point. I did and stayed behind them for about 50 more yards through some nasty rocks and then I couldn’t take it anymore and knew they were faster than me out in the open with a shitty leaking motor and told them I was going to pass and take an alternate line and they said go ahead. Dropping down off the canyon wall into the trail I got real sideways and said to myself I need to back up or I'm going to be on my lid blocking the trail and it'll be until day break before we get out of here. I backed up and immediately flopped it on its passenger’s side. Why not? The dark and the fatigue of running the race were starting to get to me and I got a little pissed and stomped the gas. Somehow after floundering around like a dead whale with a nasty engine tap it righted itself. Thinking back....it was definitely the coolest drive after rolling back onto its wheels I have done to date. I just wish more people could have seen it. I finished out the rest of the trail with no issues other than the motor starting to tick really loud at this point and a little self doubt if I was going to make it.

I had no more oil. I knew there was another rig coming down the trail that had passed Cottin and Jimmy and I didn’t know how fast they were. I would motor on to the finish if I had to push it across by myself at this point. Running the last couple of miles in, all I wanted to do was finish and I prayed that the motor would hold out through all of this. Just like in 08 when we finished well I remembered the same issues of the motor overheating and rapping loudly from all the racing. Just like in that race and this race I dropped a quart of the Lucas Oil stabilizer in before we went out race day. It was either going to blow, or be one of the greatest testimonials for the Lucas products that you could find. Bouncing through the darkness and listening to the motor was like waiting for a balloon to pop next to a camp fire. You just never know when it was going to pop. Sure as heck the motor held out, I drove hard hoping no one would catch me in the dark and when I saw the camp fire of the finish line and Dave Cole's big mug at the finish line I knew I had made it. I'd be bullshitting you if I said I didn’t shed a tear when I crossed the finish line. Dave gave me a big hug knowing everything that I went through that day to finish and finish before all the cut offs and catching my breath from the days event I looked back towards the race course and could see more racers coming in. Watching the HID’s bouncing off the desert floor and knowing I was part of a select few that made it across the finish line this year was great. Not as great as winning I could imagine, that was for Loren Healy to experience this year, finishing was a win in itself this year for me.

I’d be remised if I didn’t take a second and thank all of my guys for making the trip with me. Bosley, Dannon, Preston, Paul, Smitty, Bebee, My Dad, My brother Troy, Sam, all of Joint Force Racing, Team Badlands and definitely all of my sponsors, those that made the race and those that were home rooting for Bigelow Motorsports. Rick Hendrick Auto the Home of the Mopar Super Center, Bulldog Winch, FOA Shocks, Maxxis, Raceline, IronClad Hydration and Energy Drink, PSC Motorsports, Tom Woods, Everlast Welders, Yukon Axle and Gear, Hinchman Racewear, DJ Safety, PRP Seats, Rock Racing Batteries, Custom Aluminum Radiators, Baja Designs/Soltek, Powertank, RuffStuff Specialities, Air Dominion and without a doubt, last but definitely not least, Mike Bosley at Appalachian Offroad. I gotta thank my wife Katrina for not throwing all of my stuff out on the porch and definitely my mother/business partner for not disowning me while getting ready for the race. Jeff and Dave, you guys are sick, you are my hero’s for putting this race together and doing it in such a professional manner that every promoter should take notes on what Hammer King is doing. Thanks for letting me be a small part.

Can’t wait until next year.