donahoe Racing 2006 Ford Super Duty Rebuild - fire Extinguishers - Photo 31051108

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These magical cylinders can save trucks and save lives. Any doubt as to whether or not one belongs in your own off-road rig?

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The fire out, Kreg patched enough wires together to make the engine run. "The tranny was fried, so we couldn't move under our own power, but getting the motor running meant that we had power steering and power brakes while we were being towed out.

Back at the shop in Corona, California, the toasted drivetrain was pulled. Not surprisingly, the engine bay resembled the inside of a barbecue.

These magical cylinders can save trucks and save lives. Any doubt as to whether or not one belongs in your own off-road rig?

"As it turned out," comments Chief Engineer Dylan Evans, "rebuilding this truck wasn't that much more extensive than a normal deep prep. We normally rebuild the drivetrain twice during the season, so it was a matter of cleaning up the fire damage on top of that. What's really scary, though, was how close we came to losing the whole truck."

Ashes and cooked electrical connectors aside, the tranny casing looks pretty good. This unit was sent off for a rebuild, and is now a spare awaiting duty. To prepare for Parker, the team bolted a factory-new slush box into the truck.

Here's the culprit. This tranny cooler hose overheated, ruptured, and showered ATF all over the exhaust pipe. When new, the braided steel hose is a robust piece. After cooking, it took on the qualities of a wet noodle. "We'd put out the fire, and more tranny fluid would shoot onto the pipe, and the fire would restart," comments Kreg. "If we hadn't been given fire extinguishers by the other teams, we wouldn't have been able to keep pace with the fire, and the truck would have been a total loss."

A fresh Banks-fortified 6.0 Power Stroke awaits installation. It's sitting next to its charred brother.

Like killing an ant with a 2-pound sledge, Donahoe Racing took sweeping measures to ensure a similar fire would never happen again. The tranny cooler hose (not shown, but it will connect at the circled port) was upgraded, and the exhaust was wrapped in a thick blanket of insulation.

The insulation was wrapped all the way up to the turbo connection. This will help keep the heat safely inside the 4-inch tube until it safely exits the truck's tailpipe.

Per the class rules, the stock dash must be retained but can be modified to fit gauges. A Banks PDA monitor sits at center stage here, supplemented by Auto Meter items. Although not shown in their final positions, the Auto Meter gauges will be clocked so that the needles will be vertical during normal operating conditions. This clocking means a cursory glance can tell the codriver whether things underhood are OK or not. A nonvertical indicator needle means something's amiss.

Super Duty Crew Chief Jon Kantola eases the Banks Techni-Cooler back into place. At this point, the main components are in place, but umpteen details must still be attended to.

It's one thing to install a plug-and-play wiring harness. It's another thing to integrate a panel's worth of extra switches and gauges into that same harness. Dave Skutt's know-how got the wires cleanly routed in time for the Parker starting line.

With a new engine, new transmission, new wires, fresh tires, rebuilt shocks, and insulated exhaust on board, Team Donahoe took the SD to the Mojave for a shakedown run. Although the hood's backside still looks crispy, all the vitals were up to snuff.

The night before the race in the Parker main pit, Bob Bower's years of racing experience served all of us well. He showed us how to easily check the rear tires without getting unbuckled and climbing out of the truck. All we needed was a cheapie domed mirror stuck to the door panel. During a race, little time-savers like this add up.

Delegation is part of leading a growing organization. As such, Kreg Donahoe has handed the reins of the Super Duty program to Jon Kantola. Jon briefed the crew as a campfire fended off the night's chill. The next day, we'd all be trying to make things like fuel stops and mechanical check-overs happen as fast as possible, but Jon reminded the group that "slower is faster; make sure that what you do is deliberate and purposeful." Kreg added, "...but not sloth-like!" It's true. During the heat of battle, frantically flailing about tends to waste more time than it saves.

Mainstream America is still fixated with stick-and-ball games, so the gnarly rush of wide-open desert racing remains the domain of the initiated few. Fortunately, the Outdoor Channel was on hand to bring the Parker 425 to its subscribers and gain the sport more of the exposure it deserves.

After a fiery ordeal and intensive rebuild, the Donahoe Racing Super Duty finally rolled up to the Parker starting line. Yours truly had been slated to ride the first two laps in the third seat, giving up the seat to Jon Kantola for Lap 3. True to form, my guts didn't appreciate the lack of sleep that usually comes with going to the races. I felt horrible. The plans changed, and Jon got in for the first lap instead. I was glad for him, because those who go off the starting line are guaranteed to ride at least part of the race. If the truck breaks down, those slated to ride later laps may not get a ride at all. Jon had worked hard on the truck and on organizing the DR team logistics. Riding in the race would be a sweet reward for the long, hard effort that led up to it. I would ride the second lap if I felt up to it.

Yes, the big Super Duty rides as smoothly as possible, but what I'd heard of Parker's whoop sections had me worried. Packing to leave for the race, I couldn't find my kidney belt. I'd shopped unsuccessfully for one the day before, and had resigned myself to tough the ride out, belt or no belt. With Jon in the third seat during Lap 1, I had about three and a half hours to snag myself a new kidney belt. Parker Yamaha had what I needed in stock, and I couldn't get my money out fast enough to pay for it.

Racing is a waiting game for family and crew. Talking, napping, snacking, and going over check lists rank among the top time-killing activities between pit stops.

Dave Skutt and "Wild Bill" Donahoe suited up and were ready for action, or to pose for some memorabilia photos.

Racing spans several Donahoe generations. Parker Donahoe, held by Kreg's sister Kellie, exchanges facial expressions with grandfather Wild Bill. Wild Bill is flanked by wife Glenda to his right and daughter-in-law Paige to his left.

The first lap successfully completed, Kreg, Bob, and Jon rolled up, guided to a stop by Peter Nellesen. Time for a driver change, a mechanical check-over, and a splash of fuel.

Parker is a brutal course. After 150 miles of punishment in a limited-travel truck, Kreg and Jon zonked out in the high-noon sunlight.

Bob followed suit but had the presence of mind to find some shade before slipping out of wakefulness.

The old clich, You can't teach an old dog new tricks, should be amended to say "If the old dog is already full of tricks, no new tricks are required." Bill Donahoe has been going fast in the desert longer than all but a very few. Before the race, he'd told me, "I want you to compare my driving to the kid's." I was hoping to last the next two laps and ride back-to-back with Bill and then with Kreg.

The opening miles of the lap were spent in the Parker Python, a collection of bulldozer-built berms, jumps, and turns. All of the racing classes had spent several hours on the course by now, and faster classes were beginning to lap the slower classes. The Unlimited Buggy of Grove Lumber quickly left our Stock Class Super Duty behind.

The third seat is a pretty good place to be. Since it's about midway between the front and rear axles, the ride is smoother. Already strapped in by a five-point harness, I was able to further secure myself by pushing against the center console.

Casey Folks had warned us about this sand hill at the driver's meeting the night before. "Don't hit the brakes at the top of the hill," he warned. "If you do, that's right where we'll have to dig you out from." Bill stayed off the brakes, held the throttle steady, and we eased our way down the precipitous slope.

The Outlaw buggy of Mike James was breathing up our tailpipe. I couldn't turn around to get this shot, so I held the camera backwards over my shoulder and tripped the shutter without looking in the viewfinder. Call this photo dumb luck.

Here's one of a bajillion whoop sections. Bright orange "Danger" signs were plentiful. Casey and crew did a superb job of marking the course. It was entirely possible to navigate the distance without the aid of GPS. More of Bob Bower's sage advice came to mind: "GPS is not radar. Let's say you travel 125 feet per second at 60 mph. If the GPS signal updates the display every two seconds, what you're seeing on the screen really happened 250 feet ago!"

Another Unlimited Buggy passed us by. Most drivers were more than cordial, honking their horns instead of nerfing us and then giving us ample time to pull over and let them through. We did get nerfed a couple of times, leaving me wondering what the other drivers were thinking. To me, nerfing a 9,000-pound Super Duty isn't a wise choice.

There was carnage aplenty. The wind wasn't blowing much that day, so dust hung heavy in the air. The poor visibility made for a few pileups. Here, one of several deep sandy sections gave racers fits. Our 4x4 Super Duty never even thought about getting stuck.

We didn't see the crash, but here's the aftermath. Look closely: The right rear wheel has been completely torn off.

"Keep your thumbs outside of the wheel," Kreg had advised. Shortly after I snapped this frame, Kreg's warning slammed home when a rock caught the front end and whipped the wheel into Bill's right thumb. Bill cursed a bit and shook it off.

As if the steep downhills and miles of whoops aren't enough, Parker is a minefield of sharp rocks and equally sharp hidden tree branches. It's a wonder we only got one flat. Dave Skutt was quick with the tools. I jumped in and helped, but only after snapping a few frames. Hey, someone had to take the photos!

We're handling the terrain as fast as our limited suspension travel will allow. See the GPS reading? We're not even going 11 mph through this minefield of whoops.

Refreshed and ready for more, Kreg flagged us down. When Bill, Dave, and I were about 30 miles away from the main pit, Kreg called on the radio asking if I planned to stay in for another lap. My brain was all for it, but I wasn't sure my guts would cooperate. I didn't want to get sick mid-lap and cost the team any time, so I opted to quit while I was ahead. There's only one Ironman, and I'm not him. By the end of the lap, two things were crystal clear: Wild Bill is as tough as nails, and Kreg is a chip off the old block.

Dave and Jon traded a high-five while the crew dumped more diesel into the fuel cell and checked out the lug nuts and suspension bolts. Kreg, Bob, and Jon hopped in the truck and fastened their five-point harnesses. The truck had withstood 300 miles of pounding at that point - 150 remained.

The sun set during the truck's third lap, but the Super Duty rolls with a full complement of KC HID lights. The KCs kept the course illuminated, and Kreg was able to make great time after dark. After 450 brutal miles, number 8108 motored onto the finish line podium with a highly respectable Third in Class finish. Just the same, the Donahoe Racing team didn't make the trip to Parker with their sights set on Third Place. "Our Banks PDA monitor indicated that the oil temperature was getting hot. When the oil temperature reaches 275 degrees F, the engine control system cuts the power output by 50 percent to keep the engine from blowing up. We could easily have hit 100 on the graded roads, but the engine control system held us at 50." To ensure full power throughout future races, the truck will be upgraded with a bigger engine oil cooler, and the block will be prepped at Gale Banks Engineering for improved oil flow.

Kreg and Paige love this race enough to have named their son after it. No doubt we'll see Parker Donahoe charging through the whoops in the not-too-distant future.