`Rocket ship' dreams lie in the dust at Pikes Peak
BY DAVID RAMSEY
The Gazette
(KRT) - Shaun Palmer arrived at the top of Pikes Peak in a rage. He had raced up the mountain in a modified Chevrolet pickup, and he wanted to finish in 11 minutes.
He didn't. He came to a screeching top at the summit in 12 minutes, 12 seconds and then released his anger.
He's a big name in the extreme sports movement, with nine X Games gold medals, his own snowboarding video game and impressive accomplishments in skiing, motocross, wakeboarding and cycling.
But not auto racing. In Saturday's Falken Tire Pikes Peak International Hill Climb, Palmer found himself in the position of being an also-ran.
He didn't like it. Palmer, not the most humble individual, calls himself the "the world's greatest athlete" and complains it's too easy for him to claim victory.
Mediocrity confused him. Palmer, who is 34, spent several minutes acting as if he's 14.
When he reached the summit, he first held his face in his hands for several seconds. His shoulders were shaking as he yelled to himself.
His words could not be heard over the roaring engine. That's probably a good thing.
Next, he punched his rearview mirror with his right hand.
Then, he took a slow walk to the edge of the mountain, where he stared east into the sunny distance.
The panoramic view of the Colorado Springs area seemed to calm him. His shoulders quit shaking, and he stopped talking to himself. He returned to his red truck, gazed at it for a long moment.
He couldn't stand the sight. He unleashed a savage kick to the truck's side.
A few minutes later, his rage let loose into the blue skies above him, he explained why he chose to attack his car.
"They always say don't spend your own money on racing, but I did anyway," Palmer said.
How much did he spend?
He grimaced.
"About $200,000."
Don't worry about him. Palmer is head of the thriving Shaun Palmer Limited. He collects vintage Cadillacs. He has plenty of cash to throw at his dreams.
One of those dreams led him to the Hill Climb last year. He wanted to wow potential sponsors them with his racing ability. He didn't finish the race.
This year, he continued the quest, but his truck's engine began to sputter about halfway through the 12.4-mile course.
The man who adores pushing the limits was left, in his words, "driving at normal rental-car speed," just like some tourist from Des Moines.
He wanted so much more. He had this vision. He wanted to become the first racer to climb the hill in less than 10 minutes.
He wanted to find a sponsor to help him build what he calls "a rocket ship" that would be sleek, dazzling and unspeakably fast.
"I was hoping someone would believe in me," he said softly as he stared at the ground.
His future at the Peak appears hazy. Palmer said he doubts he will return to the mountain.
That's too bad for the Hill Climb. Palmer represents what the Hill Climb needs. He and his wild plans could give the event a modernizing jolt, pushing it into the minds of a new generation. Maybe the Hill Climb could even obtain a decent TV contract.
Palmer is a fascinating soul. He once sang in a punk band known as Fungus. He leads a movement toward acceptance for exotic sports. He declines to rest, always seeking fresh challenges.
This challenge proved too much. Palmer trudged past the red truck with the dent in the side and the mangled rearview mirror.
He had spent a big chunk of cash chasing his vision of a magical rocket ship.
A rocket ship doomed to remain forever on the ground.
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