2004 NGK Rally of Melbourne RACEtech STEEL Victorian Rally Championship Rnd 4 1-3 Oct 2004 Yarra Valley This event was to be Mark and Deb's first chance to rub shoulders with the big guns of the ARC. Rolling over the start ramp at Federation Square in the centre of Melbourne was a proud milestone for this little team. Once the event proper got under way on the Saturday morning it was just like any other event. The team knew the Saunders in the Suzi were going to be hard to beat in their home ground, but our Championship chances depended on a strong finish, so the plan was to go hard. Though unexperienced on pacenotes Mark and Deb were running well, trimming the balance between speed and control. At the start of stage six they were 58 seconds up on their opponents, however this is a fact that was not known to them at the time. Unaware of a time penalty handed to the Suzuki crew earlier in the event, our Daihatsu duo were under the impression that they were in fact 3 sec behind. Stage six would be their big push for victory, but this is were it all went wrong. Deb tells the story from her very personal point of view...... EVER SINCE I WAS introduced to rallying, by my then new boyfriend, eight years ago, I always wanted to know what it felt like to go down Don Road at full speed. It was there I fell in love with anti-lag, and a sport that I could be involved in with my car crazed main squeeze. So it seems quite ironic that Don Road, my love, nearly ended rallying for me. 2004, Rally of Melbourne, our first ARC. Our first run down was amazing. Corners were called precisely on time, Mark and I were clicking, and the feeling going around the speccy point left me lost for words. (or shall I say lost for pace notes, as my grin was that big, I couldn't get any of it out for the next few corners) Our next run down the mountain was something I would not forget. I stood at the start control, playing with my helmet. It felt strange, so I got Melinda from the Suzuki to check it for me. Yup, it was glued on, ain't nothing getting it off. So I skipped to my little Charade, clicked in the 5th point, (which I normally don't run with) and off we went. We were hot. Every corner seemed a fraction quicker, and Mark was really on the ball. I called a "Right 7", looked up from my notes, and the next thing I knew we were going straight into a tree. Bugger. I had time to close my eyes and hold my breath, but little else. No slow motion, no preparation, just a quick and angry smash into the tree, then thrown into the bank behind us. We were blocking the road, and there was no way we were moving. I remember opening my eyes, and I was holding my helmet. It had been ripped off my head. I was screaming. I couldn't stop myself. It was as if it wasn't me that was screaming. I felt pain rippling up through my body from where the harnesses had cut into me as I sub-marined. Mark asked if I was ok? Ask me tomorrow I kept thinking. "I don't know" I barely got out. He hopped out, grabbed a triangle, and raced up the road. He got about 20 metres, and threw the triangle to an official who was running down. He told them to stop the next car, and came back to me. I couldn't feel my legs, I couldn't move, I couldn't think. Would someone think for me. Mark asked me if I was ok again. Nope! He yelled up the road for assistance, luckily the SOS point was only a couple of hundred metres back. The stage was stopped, and paramedics were on the scene a few minutes later. Finally I could feel pins and needles in my legs, which was better than nothing, so I dragged myself out. I couldn't let Mark see me like this. I knew the Charade was badly damaged, he didn't need me complaining as well. The paramedics took me down to their van. I remember saying "Yes my name is Deborah. No I don't know the date, but I never do. I know the year. And yes I know my name is Deborah for the 5th time. Just make the pain go away." Mark came down, I settled down a bit. He was holding his wrist, and limping a little. I tried to smile, but my face didn't twitch. He was hurt, but being a usual driver, was more concerned about the car. Sweep car came down. Damn. It was Lynn and Keith Cuttle, they would have seen the Stage Stopped sign. They told us later their hearts dropped as they knew it would be someone they know. I decided I should go down to the speccy point to where our parents and friends would be waiting. So Keith and Lynn drove me down. I started crying like a baby. The car was stuffed, Mark and I were stuffed, and I would never get to do Andersons Mill. We arrived at the bottom. Dad was staring at the sky, Mum was hugging a tree. Mark's sister was taking photos and his parents were already racing over to me. His father hugged me and wouldn't let go, his mum held my hand while my mum was trying to hug me, and dad was swallowing hard trying not to cry. They took me over to sit down, only I couldn't as the driving suit was cutting off the circulation to my body. I borrowed someone's clothes, and got changed. People asked a lot of questions. I mainly grunted, cried, and starred blankly at the road that should have been amazing. Mark eventually came down, and we headed off to the service park as half our crew headed up to supervise the recovery. Our crews faces were a little grimmer than we anticipated, as some official took it upon himself to tell them we were in fact in hospital. Gee whiz??? I don't remember much about service park. Rita Thompson came over to wish us well. She was still recovering from having a main artery in her wrist cut open by her helmet peak in the previous event. (mental note, ok, don't run with a helmet peak, thanx) Mark posed for a lot of photos. I just stared. After a few long hours, we headed back to our accommodation. I was iced up, and the best crew in the world was looking after us. We had dinner, watched the in-car footage, and then politely asked everyone to leave so we could rest. I had a warm shower, it felt great, then I looked down to my feet. Ahhh, I was screaming again. From my upper legs to my belly button I was swollen and black and blue. I put my hands to my head, except my face was the size of a watermelon, and bruised, I felt like Gumby, only grumpier. Basically from there on, I went into shock, and was helpless. So, now you know why I'm a little concerned about hopping back into a rally car. I know the risks. I sign that dotted line every time on the entry form. But I never prepared myself for the physical and mental journey I was now on. For weeks after, I didn't want to be in a road car, let alone a rally car. Driving to work is now an absolute torture, and every tree I see, I slow down for. I know I have a problem, and it was all I thought about day and night. I couldn't talk to Mark, he'd take it too personally. The painkillers ran out, and reality hit me pretty cold in the face. I wasn't angry at Mark, or the fact the car was a write off. I was angry at myself, and how I reacted. Basically it all boiled down to the fact that I was human, and I didn't yet know I was. It scared me to think about when we have another accident, how would I react. Accidents happen, its not IF, its WHEN. Why can't I be stronger. I hate to say it, but why cant I be more like a man. A man wouldn't scream, he wouldn't cry, and he wouldn't let his mind get twisted like mine now is. SO WHAT NOW? Do I take up chess, and feel sorry for myself. OR, do I jump straight back into a car, grow a set, and get over it. Aidan O'Halloran had contacted me for the last VRC, and understood that I was strapped for cash, he just wanted a blast around Wangaratta. Oh why not, if I get freaked out, I stop rallying. At least I would have tried. I felt at home in the Suzuki, and Aidan was a dude. We had a lot of laughs, and I hope he learnt something from my experiences. We finished, and he even brought me home for a class win for the year in P1. .
	The start at Federation Square - Melbourne	The Speccy point at Don Road	After the Accident	Incar footage of the crash!