...
By Newsweek Editors
Share
Newsweek is a Trust Project member
See more of our trusted coverage when you search.Prefer Newsweek on Googleto see more of our trusted coverage when you search.
As told to Ramin Setoodeh
It was November 1994, and I was driving in a race called the Baja 1,000. It started in Tijuana and ran all the way down the Baja peninsula to La Paz, Mexico. I was 880 miles and 20 hours into it, and of all things, I was leading. I still had a ways to go, and I was exhausted. It was dark, and I was so badly wanting to see the sun come up. I felt like if I made it to sunrise, I'd find some energy again. I didn't make it to sunrise.
Read More on U.S.
I fell asleep around 3 in the morning. One of the innocent head nods you do on the interstate, and it turned into an ordeal. I was driving 90 miles per hour at the time. This was in the mountains—I was working my way out of a mountain range and was finally on a straight road. That's when I just dozed off. I was in high gear. When I fell asleep, I let off the throttle. I was still coasting but at a very high pace. When I woke up, I realized there was a turn in front of me, and there was no way I was going to get the vehicle to stop. I went off the road, and I hit a really big rock. The rock just flipped my truck around, and it started somersaulting in the air. When that happened, I thought I had gone off a cliff. I'm somersaulting in the darkness, wondering how far I'm going to fall. Luckily, it was just a small downhill into a sand wash below. I landed and flipped and tumbled. It was a very bad wreck. The roof smashed down on me and had me pinned in the vehicle, and for awhile I couldn't get out. Fortunately, after finding a way to get my arm free, I was able to get out of the truck. I was OK, just bruised and banged up. Because of our location in the mountains, I couldn't transmit a signal out to anyone. It was 12 hours before anybody found me and a day before I got to the hotel.
That accident was the final in a series of mistakes I had made leading up to that point. I was being too aggressive, not finishing races. I was not looking so good. I had so much pressure to perform. I was the young guy who came in and ran the fastest lap, but I'd crash or break very early.
After the crash, I was just sitting there, staring at the vehicle, internalizing the way I raced. That was my second big wreck of the year. Why did I find myself in this position again? I was scared to death what the car owner would say when he saw his truck. The whole process, the fear I had running through my veins, flipping out—those things hit me deep and changed me as a driver. I needed that wake-up call. Overnight, it changed me from being the young and dumb hot shoe to a thinking-man's racer. Before, I couldn't win championships. Now, I can. I was the hare. I'm the tortoise now.
Submit Correction
View Editorial & AI Guidelines