Dust to Glory

Weatherman to all checkpoints.

I'm looking for status on 99 Alpha, please,

between Valle de Trinidad and Milling.

They race the clock

in a land that defies time,

Sharing an adventure in a place

where reality is on holiday.

It's the most beautiful place in the world.

It's the most scary place in the world.

And it's the most

desolate, quiet place.

You love it, you hate it, you love it,

you hate it, you love it, you hate it.

You don't wanna be there,

you wanna be there.

It's like a girl that breaks your heart.

"I hate you, I never

wanna see you again.

I'm sorry.

Can I come over?"

You look up at the stars

and there's no smog.

You smell the ocean breeze,

you hear the birds.

You hear the whales,

you hear the seals.

I think Baja gives you

that opportunity to feel that,

to get closer to something

that's more instinctual.

It's difficult to put into words

because it's an emotion.

That's what Baja is,

something you feel.

What do you call a race where

anybody with any vehicle can enter,

a race where 200,000 spectators

come but no one pays admission,

A race that takes 32 hours

for 1,200 people

to battle 1,000 merciless miles

for a million different reasons?

Call it the Tecate Score Baja 1000.

Someone asked Parnelli Jones,

and he said it's like being

in a 24-hour plane crash.

'Cause the 1000,

so much can go on.

Think about what happens,

you know, in the Daytona 500.

And they're going

around a smooth track,

and the pit's

in the same spot every time.

You know, we got

buses and cows and horses and...

Mountains and beaches and deserts.

You're in dust, you're in rocks.

It's gullies, it's washouts,

it's 100 miles an hour, 20 miles an hour.

So many roads out there,

and little ranches here and there.

Every one of these jumps,

every one of these turns

is different than the last one.

Tell you what,

you don't fall asleep here.

I lived it, I ate it, I slept it,

and I can totally understand

when other people

get caught up in the mystique of it,

trying to beat time itself

and get to the finish line.

It's an unreal feeling.

It's only about 100 miles

south of San Diego,

but Ensenada is a whole nother world.

and the closer you get to it,

The more confusing it becomes.

Mouse had the inspiration

and Fish gave his approval,

But it was my good buddy Scott Waugh

who convinced me to make this movie

about the longest nonstop

point-to-point race in the world.

My name is Dana Brown.

And when I thought I knew,

I hadn't a clue.

We got Dana Brown.

Dana just came out of Step Into Liquid.

They are doing a feature

called Dust to Glory

on the Tecate Score Baja 1000.

That's Sal Fish. He's in charge.

An honest promoter.

Why not? This whole thing started

with a stuntman nicknamed after a rodent.

- There's the odds.

- Hey, we're three-to-one.

Look at this.

I'm two-to-one favorite.

This is Mouse. A real force of nature.

Somehow you always end up doing

whatever he's doing.

Take his posse... one legend

and two childhood friends.

Also getting sucked into Mouse's orbit

were the Griders, Andy and Neil.

Andy won the 1000 last year.

- Can you bet this?

- Yeah, at Caliente.

Hey, Billy, you can bet this

at Caliente.

Let's put some odds on ourselves.

Let's go bet on ourselves.

I think in Mexico you can do that.

It's not like...

Who's that guy... Pete Rose?

Seems like everybody

enters the 1000.

They've raced everything here

from Rolls-Royces to Winnebagos.

The Bago didn't make it very far.

These racers are

from all walks of life.

Including the prodigal son,

The Hawaiian surfer,

The father, son, and grandson,

King of the Beetles,

Team Estrogen,

The perennial champs,

The greatest ever,

and those Indy dudes.

They don't close

the race course off for anybody.

You're out there with Joe Public,

or in this case, Jose Public.

For the people of Baja. This is

one of the biggest days of the year.

We can really relate to racing,

off-road racing.

And you meet people,

you just start talking.

Start talking about

the last race, the next race.

"You remember this

and you remember that."

You end up with four

or five guys around you,

and that's called picking up dust

here in this town.

As the party atmosphere fades,

all the contradictions and metaphors

begin to make sense to me.

This isn't about a race.

It's about the race. The human race.

Which I figure is exactly

how Sal Fish intended it.

The roads aren't closed.

Locals driving backwards on the course.

You've got locals racing

right next to you.

You've got chase vehicles, and they're

on the course where they shouldn't be.

You know, I mean, this is

not for wusses. Let's face it.

Without question.

Sal Fish is the Baja 1000.

He marks a different course each year.

He deals with the concerns

of the ranchers, of the police.

as well as demands

of contestants and spectators.

I haven't met anyone that has

the stupidity, I guess, that I have

that would do it the way I do.

And I never stop thinking about this.

It's a 24-hour deal and I love it.

Get families together

and guys with the $10,000 vehicle

and guys with the $2 million vehicle.

I could never imagine

having Sal Fish's job.

Having 300 people

like Robby Gordon showing up there

wanting to go racing,

and everybody has their own agenda.

Everybody plays by the same rules.

They all pay the same entry fee.

I wanna make sure

our hardcore grassroot guys

are always at Score

and there's a place for them to race.

Sal's values are reflected

in a race that's open to everyone,

from the little guy to the big guy.

The famous and anonymous...

all equal, all simply racers.

Pre-dawn.

Air temperature, 45 degrees.

Motorcycles and quads

will start three hours ahead of the field.

A flurry of flashbulbs

announces Johnny Campbell's arrival.

A win today would be

a record-breaking seven in a row.

Trying to keep loose

was 62-year-old J.N. Roberts,

a true legend in off-road racing.

Always gotta keep moving.

Harder target to hit.

Mouse arrived.

He's very quiet. Unusually subdued.

Mouse doesn't know this but when

I was a little kid, he was my hero.

He'd go out smokin' everybody.

"Wow, who's this Mouse McCoy?"

Then all of a sudden, disappeared.

I started racing

when I was four years old.

And by 17 I was just flat burned out.

Nothing you could do about it.

You don't have any context

of what you're doing as a kid.

All you know is you hate it,

you're done, you're sick of it.

Actually that's the best thing

that's ever happened to me

'cause now I love

riding motorcycles more than ever.

And maybe I wouldn't have loved it

so much had I kept going.

For every bike there's usually

three, four, or five riders.

Johnny Campbell would be riding

the first 205 miles

before handing it over

to Steve Hengeveld.

We'll see ya at the finish line.

J.N. Would ride 110

before giving it to his son Jimmy.

Mouse McCoy wouldn't

run 100, 200, or even 500 miles.

Mouse had a different plan.

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