2014 Dakar Rally: American Heavy-Duty Support Pickups

From the bridge over the racetrack's straightaway, the big Ram pickup turning in off the main road was an unexpected sight. Fancifully painted in cobalt yellow and blue, it had an elaborate overhead rack laden with tires on sturdy alloy wheels, cases of bottled water, a racing truck's extra hood, four large fuel containers, and a portable generator. Like any support truck for a big-time racing team, it was festooned with sponsors' logos. The one representing the campaign of Governor Poggi, of San Luis Province, was foremost among them. Politicians do indeed know how to reach the people.

I was in Argentina, visiting a road-racing course just outside Rosario, the nation's third-largest city. Here, with a highly modified BMW X3, Omar Gandar and his team were joining more than 400 other outfits on January 3, the scrutineering day. Personnel were coming from as far as Mongolia and Zambia. They would be racing motorcycles, quads, cars, pickups, buggies, and some of the most brutal, terrain-hammering big trucks you could imagine. All were assembling for the 2014 Dakar. Formerly known as the Paris-Dakar Rally, the event started in 1979 and used to be run from Paris (and a variety of other starting points) through the North African desert, to its finish in Dakar, Senegal. It took three weeks—and sometimes a life.

Terrorist threats in 2008 caused the cancellation of that year's Paris-Dakar Rally. In one of history's smartest marketing moves, the rally was brought to South America and relabeled the Dakar. Huge crowds turned out, whereas in North Africa only camels had been watching. The media covered it with a great hunger. Suddenly, a continent of people whose sports diet had consisted mainly of soccer now had a new marquee event. And it was my privilege to be there for the first time.

I was part of the mob on Saturday, January 4, when all the riders, drivers, and co-drivers were introduced next to Rosario's towering national flag memorial near the bank of the Paraná River. It was an amazing spectacle and an exuberant atmosphere, but one thing that was evident was how greatly the Dakar depended on heavy-duty trucks from the United States. Serving as official vehicles, team support, and even competitors in the rally, they were everywhere. And they wore paintjobs and decals that were novelties to me. Little privateer teams campaigning one motorcycle had them. So did big outfits like Honda Racing, whose pits rolled on and on like a Van Halen guitar solo. They came from Colombia and France, Lithuania and Chile. A Dutch photographer told me the second-largest national contingent was from the Netherlands, which had established a strong tradition in the event since its inception in 1979.

The 2014 Dakar started a little after 4 a.m. on Sunday, January 5, when motorcycle riders departed in the dark, heading 500 miles west across the flat farmlands for San Luis. Most of this would be transit over regular highway, but there would be a special timed stage over 111 miles of backroads. This was the beginning of 13 days and 5,722 miles, with special stages in the mountains and deserts as long as 375 miles. The end would finally come on January 18, in Valparaíso, Chile. The Baja 1000 was looking like child's play.

After the bikes left that Sunday morning, I headed off with a group of other reporters to a point where we could intercept the competitors at a water crossing. We would camp that night and the next with all the teams, both times at racetracks, and when we got to Mendoza, in Argentina's wine country, we would fly back to Buenos Aires and then home.

Here is what I observed. Argentina's roadways are dominated by the Volkswagen Amarok, a light utility truck built at a factory near Buenos Aires, and the global Ford Ranger, a smooth-looking, six-lug compact. There are also frequent appearances by large Ford and Dodge trucks from the '50s and '60s, as well as a few pickups by those brands—and they are still doing important work. Chevrolets were nonexistent, making me wonder about the dealer networks back then. While the Argentine public is familiar with all of the above, contemporary ¾- and 1-ton trucks from the U.S. are rare, and the people who lined the roadways to see the Dakar were almost as interested in the support vehicles as the rally cars.

I took it upon myself to interview as many owners of our beloved trucks as possible. For example, on the scrutineering day, I met Marcelo Sanchez, a Kawasaki dealer from Cordoba, which is Argentina's second-largest city. Sanchez had a motorcycle team. The support truck, an '06 Dodge Ram 2500 Cummins turbodiesel, was outfitted with a cargo box of plywood and a rickety overhead tire rack. This was its third Dakar.

It had nearly 100,000 miles on the odometer. Sanchez said he would love to buy a new Ram, but the price is jacked up to $85,000 in Argentina due to tariffs and taxes. They would make do with this one, which had always been dependable, economical, and extraordinarily capable. "It's the best truck for us because we're a small team," he said.

As the rally was starting on Sunday morning, a Ford F-350 came to rest by a curb near the flag monument, and crew members jumped out. Unlike Sanchez, these guys were speaking English. I caught up with one who said the team was a mixed Canadian and British group, supporting three riders, one from the United States, the other two from Mongolia. "We chose the F-350 based on the durability and the diesel," the Canadian said.

And on the Dakar's second day, between San Luis and San Rafael, I talked to Marc Waddell, with a team fielding a buggy that had a $300,000 carbon-fiber body made in California. Support came from a '14 Ram 4500 Cummins turbodiesel that still said "Dodge" on the instrument panel. The Ram was performing "very well," Waddell said on the rally's second day. He admitted it had been "a little hard on fuel," but then listed items that made up the big load: a compressor, generator, five tires, massive toolkit, and 37 gallons of fuel.

At a western gas stop in the town of Monte Comal, the Dakar was maybe one of the greatest things ever to happen. I tried to talk to a French team in another F-350's crew cab, but no one knew English or Spanish. Nevertheless, they looked happy and satisfied with the American truck they had shipped across the sea. No doubt, their camioneta would perform flawlessly through the Dakar's next stages leading Chilecito, San Miguel de Tucuman, and Salta. From there, it would lead to Bolivia (for the bikers) and then to northern Chile. The southbound competitors would find big challenges in Chile's northern deserts. With them all, the American trucks rolled on.