How to Win America's Longest, Toughest Endurance Race

They call it one of the world’s toughest endurance races for a reason. Despite a performance advantage over those chasing us, our transmission seemed sure to fail. We were just nine hours into this 25-hour marathon and already we were limited to running just fourth and fifth gear.

This should have been the end of the story. We had put on a good show, one we could be proud of. We led most of the early hours, and proved that we were the car to beat. But prototype-style racers from the ESR class aren't designed for durability, which is why one has never won outright at the 25 Hours of Thunderhill. We weren’t going to break the trend this year.

Only we did.

What looked to be a story of hard luck turned into one of triumph. Rather than admit defeat, we dug deeper into our toolbox and found an extra-large dose of resilience. In this race that always favored the slow and steady over the fast and fragile, the hare prevailed over the tortoise.

The weekend begins Saturday night in Willow, Calif., (two hours outside of Sacramento), under torrential rain. One of my three teammates, Brian Frisselle, is laying down a stunning pace to secure pole position. I’m watching with fellow sports car aces Randy Pobst and Kyle Marcelli, with whom I’m sharing driving duties. Our socks are wet and our fingers numb, but the beauty of headlights streaming through the downpour is about as evocative a sight as you can witness.

For this year’s NASA-sanctioned 25 hour race, our Davidson Racing Norma M20F features a new engine. It was lifted from an E36 BMW M3, then massaged into a 3.5-liter good for 415 hp. The car itself weighs just 1,600 lbs., which means acceleration is somewhat akin to a detonating nuclear warhead.

Normas are typically seen on hill climbs; one won Pikes Peak last year in the hands of Romain Dumas. As stock, the M20F has roughly the performance of a Radical, but due to the aforementioned engine upgrade as well as a 6-speed Sadev paddle shift gearbox, ours is considerably faster.

The only car capable of keeping pace is JFC Racing’s Wolf. It’s basically an open-wheel race car with more bodywork – and it’s probably quicker than us over a lap. Their drivers are stellar, too, including Indy 500 legend Al Unser Jr. But while ESR-class cars are known to be fast, they aren’t known to finish. We realize our biggest threat actually comes in the form of a far slower Porsche 911 GT3 Cup car, a previous winner of the race with the reliability of a Dabbawala.

This is the tortoise.

Frisselle, a permanent fixture on the Davidson Racing team, starts the race. He immediately opens up a lead over Team Quick Racing’s Superlight SLC with Mike Skeen at the wheel, partnered with factory Acura driver Ryan Eversly. Davidson Racing's second car is also filled with hotshot racers like Dion von Moltke, Anthony Lazzaro, Burt Frisselle (Brian’s twin brother), Brandon Kraus and Dominic Cicero. Even NASCAR star Kurt Busch is competing in the E0 class, along with a slew of big-name drivers, many of whom have stood on the podium at esteemed races such as the Rolex 24 at Daytona and Le Mans.

What was once a race only for amateurs has morphed into one filled with professionals. But don’t be fooled, the 54-car field is still littered with amateur drivers in cars of varying speeds – from first-gen Miatas to aging BMWs to everything in between. There’s even a Chevy Silverado NASCAR-style truck (which was pretty quick) and a twin-engined Mini Cooper S (which broke). For the amateur, America’s longest endurance race (formerly the world’s longest race) has ballooned into a defining, bucket list event.

The closing speeds between the fast and slow cars is what makes this race so spectacular. As I jump in the Norma for my first stint, a 2-hour 15-minute monster, I pass around seven different cars – from a Lotus Exige to a Honda Fit – in just one straightaway. I enter turn one at 160 mph in sixth gear. The Fit does so at about 80 mph. (Imagine passing a stopped car in the middle of the highway; that’s what’s it like approaching the slower E3-class machines.)

Over a given lap I’m overtaking roughly 10 to 15 cars, many of whom are busy racing their own race and don’t see me coming. Running the 25 Hours of Thunderhill is an art you must learn: slicing through traffic, minimizing delays and keeping it clean. With our fragile Norma, we know that one mistimed pass could be catastrophic.

I’m taking it relatively easy, lapping between 1 minute 42 seconds and 1 minute 45 seconds, depending on traffic. The Wolf, with Little Al at the helm, is running a similar pace, and the Superlight SLC a few seconds slower. The tortoise? Low 1 minute 50s.

As the hours roll by, our competitors falter. The Wolf and the Superlight SLC have electrical gremlins, and start to fall back. Our sister car at Davidson Racing, a 700 hp brute called the Eagle (a machine most on our team thought the likeliest to claim victory) is out. Like others, the issue was electrical.

At around 10:30pm, moments before my next stint, I’m told we too have electrical issues. The gearbox isn’t shifting correctly. Typically we hold the throttle flat and simply click the paddle; now, a blip of the clutch is required, and even then it takes a few stabs to get it to engage. The car is drivable, though, but at this stage of the race, this is an ominous sign.

Worse still, just as I’m preparing to put my helmet on, news of a crash rings through the now-dark pit lane. Robert Ames in his Miata ran out of gas and stopped on the unlit back straight. Out of power, the lights on his car ceased to work, and an Acura ILX driver hit him at over 100-mph. Ames was airlifted to hospital with a concussion and a collapsed lung.