WORDS: DREW PERLMUTTER
PHOTOS: CHRIS HUNT
We’re live from the NORRA Mexican 1000.
Scout Motors and Anything Scout’s Vintage Scout Race Program have returned to the Mexican 1000® — a race fueled by grit, legacy, and this year, redemption after last year’s devastating crash. Scout has a history steeped in racing and Baja. It’s been a proving ground for our vehicles and our factory racers since the 1960s. This year, with Sean’s rebuilt 1976 Scout Terra™ at the helm, it’s not just a return to Baja, it’s a statement for both him and for Scout Motors: Scouts Always Come Back.
We’re live on the ground in Baja, capturing the action as it happens. Follow the journey as we share updates throughout the week on Scout Stories and our social channels, capturing dusty miles and even dustier smiles at the “Happiest Race on Earth.”
April 24-25, 2025
ENSENADA:
REGISTRATION & TECH INSPECTION
Miles: 0
ack to Baja" is the motto for this trip. The mission statement for Scout Motors and the Vintage Scout Race Program. It’s about reconnecting with our legacy. Scout vehicles were here half a century ago, helping define an era of off-road racing and innovation. And now they’re here again.
We crossed the border into Baja early this morning, with our sights set on Ensenada by early afternoon. The trucks run on gas, but our team was running on coffee and eggs.
Ensenada comes alive during race time. Trophy trucks, vintage Volkswagen Beetles, motorcycles, dune buggies, and side-by-sides fill the streets. Fans line the sidewalks, waving and snapping photos of everything that rolls by.
First step: tech inspection. A vital part of racing. We check everything safety-related—seatbelts, safety harness, roll cage, fire extinguisher. Check, check, check. The lights work, the brakes function, the GPS gets installed. The finishing touch: a time card sticker on our door so officials can track our pace. We pass tech and breathe a sigh of relief. One step closer.
Our Race Terra is fitted with a 196ci motor, punched out .030 over, and an 11:1 compression ratio running on race gas. This engine is literally half of a V8. International Harvester took their 392 V8s and halved them into what’s referred to as a “slant-4.” The Race Terra even features the same pistons from Sherman Balch’s Baja-winning Scout truck from the early 1980s. A little heritage, a little history, and a little good luck to keep us grounded.
The truck glows in the midday sun—the Terracotta color fits perfectly into the landscape of Baja. You can hear the Scout from blocks away as the motor echoes through town.
Even with a passing tech inspection, there’s still a punch list of things to do. Larry and Dan grab a permanent marker and a piece of cardboard. Sean Barber is our leader, our captain. When he speaks, we listen. He starts calling out:
“Need a new taillight bulb. Top off the clutch fluid. And let’s do something about that squeaky belt.”
Dan and Larry get to work. Parts and tools are emptied from the chase and support trucks. With ease, the issues are remedied…mostly.
A shorter belt needs to be sourced from a local auto parts store. But to make room for it, Larry takes a Dremel to the fan shroud to create some clearance. In true race spirit, on the night before the start, last-minute adjustments and fixes are made.
It’s a sight to see—and hear—power tools and grinding coming from under the hood of the Race Terra on the eve of the Mexican 1000.
We soon learn that there are no ½” shorter belts available anywhere in Mexico—only 1” shorter. We source one anyway, just to have it, but stick with the slightly long belt and deal with the noise.
Evening settles in. Daylight fades. There’s not much left to prep. Sean and Owen Barber climb into the Race Terra to rehearse their race-day checklist.
Sean and Owen are father and son. Driver and co-driver. Friends. They’ve got it down. Owen runs through the list. Sean replies “check” to every item.
“Do the brakes feel better?” Owen asks.
“Let’s keep a wrench on the dash to release brake pressure if needed,” Sean replies.
Check.
Tomorrow we race.
April 26, 2025
STAGE 1:
Ensenada to San Felipe
Miles: 198.1
t 10:34 a.m., the green flag dropped, and we were off. It’s real now, and there is no turning back. A year's worth of resilience and rebuilding, all leading to this moment. “Good luck, amigos.”
The “rally-style” format of the NORRA Mexican 1000 involves point-to-point racing. Over the next six days and 1,400 miles, Sean Barber and his son Owen — along with their 1976 Scout Terra — will traverse the entire Baja Peninsula.
The race begins in Ensenada with a “transit stage,” miles spent on pavement that do not impact their cumulative race time. The first 16 miles take you through town, amongst civilian traffic. It’s a spectacle: race machines contrasted against the local landscape, passing loncherias and farms.
Soon we hit our first “special stage” — off-road race sections that add to their cumulative time. This is where the real fun begins, where the pedal meets the floor and the modest 196ci screams to life.
The Race Terra paints a terracotta line through the desert, glowing from the late-day sun. In a matter of moments, it’s gone, and all that’s visible is a trail of dust disappearing into the desert.
Today’s course varies from high-elevation mountain passes to rugged trails and tight switchbacks. The Race Terra neared 5,000 feet at its highest point today. From there: hard-packed dirt, loose dirt, rocks, and the infamous whoops. Baja’s landscape is quick to test those who dare to face it. The racecourse is scattered with broken-down cars and missing parts. Everything is an obstacle; maximum focus required.
It’s hard not to feel nostalgic. The 1976 Scout Terra breathes its legacy into the trail it leaves behind. A few times throughout the day, the Scout reappears on pavement for more “transit stages” through the small towns scattered along the peninsula. Each is a makeshift checkpoint in the middle of nowhere. Spectators gather at the intersection of pavement and dirt to see the sight.
The sound of the breeze is soon interrupted by the roar of the Race Terra. It appears suddenly from behind the desert brush and cactus. Officials mark the time card, and Sean and Owen meet up with the chase crew.
“It looks like you’re losing oil,” shouts Dan over the motor. Sean cuts it off.
“Four-wheel drive is making a noise,” he responds.
The chase crew surrounds the truck from every angle, visually inspecting every inch. Leaks are searched for, bolts are checked for tightness. Sean and Owen hop out for snacks, a leg stretch, and a report about the day so far.
“Other than that, she’s doing good. Engine is running good, we’re feeling good.” Sean drives; Owen navigates. They have it down to a science. Owen starts shouting out numbers.
“Okay, we got here seven minutes ago, we’ve got 12 miles ahead of us, and 20 minutes left for this transit.”
All that means is we have a few more minutes to snack and drink before continuing on. When in a transit stage, you can be penalized for being too early or too late to the next checkpoint.
The crew continues looking over the truck. Larry checks the oil. Dan is underneath, rotating the driveshaft to see if anything obvious is wrong with the four-wheel drive.
“We’ll only use it when we need it,” Sean calmly states.
Dan can’t find any obvious issues, and right now the terrain doesn’t demand all four wheels. Owen grabs some spare gas from the chase truck and tops off the Race Terra.
It’s a brand-new engine this year; fuel economy and range are still unknown, but after today, we’ll have a better idea. Sean recreates the noise he hears one last time for Dan.
“Brrr, brrr, brrr. When the shocks cycle up, I’m hearing it.”
Dan says he’ll check the u-joints — maybe the spider gears in the differential — tonight at camp, along with a list of other things.
The sun lowers in the sky, now at our backs as we head from San Matias toward San Felipe to finish our day. The second half of the day builds in excitement. We hit a rhythm in the flow of the waves of sand, getting lost in the mirages on the horizon. The Race Terra is at home in Baja. The humble four-cylinder motor and archaic suspension were made for trucking through the unforgiving.
With the drop of a checkered flag, the boys pull into San Felipe. The sunset reflects off their smiles, ear to ear. A great first day in the desert.
But now, off to camp for nightly maintenance.
April 27, 2025
STAGE 2:
San Felipe to Bahia de los Angeles
Miles: 254.7
acing is a team sport — driver, co-driver, and crew. The driver drives. The co-driver navigates. The crew does everything else, by any means necessary. If you’re part of the vintage International Harvester® world, you probably know Dan Hayes and his parts business, Binder Boneyard. You’ve probably bought something from him too — he’s got it all. Dan, proud of the too-many International Harvesters parked in his front yard, is our crew chief.
Beside him sits Larrance McGee — Larry. Up at the New Legend shop in Iowa, Larry is humble, deliberate, and a sheet metal expert. The sheet metal expert. At just 26, he knows the insides of a Scout door panel better than anyone alive.
These two are the glue holding us together.
Last night, Dan and Larry were up until 12:30 a.m., swapping a differential while Sean and Owen slept. After concerns about a four-wheel-drive noise — and finding glitter in the diff fluid — we knew we’d need the fix before today’s rough stages. Camp the first night had infrastructure; tonight’s wouldn’t. Better to be ready.
Dan finally crawled into his tent. Larry cowboy-camped under the stars on the trailer.
Hours later, the sun cracked the horizon over the Sea of Cortez. Terracotta desert, turquoise water, and a warm, inspiring light. Sean stretched and commented his neck was finally feeling better. Fighting a truck through hundreds of miles of sand is a unique kind of workout.
It’s Day 2, and Sean is already planning Day 3.
“It’s not slow and steady,” he says. “It’s medium and steady.”
Today’s a long one: nearly 250 miles. We drop a few pounds of air from the tires — 22 PSI up front, 20 in the rear — for better traction. Canyons to carve, rocks to crawl, some wide-open sections ahead.
At 10:35 a.m., the green flag waves. We’re off, south of San Felipe, straight into a special stage. Immediate racing.
A bridge spans a dry riverbed — traffic and tourists overhead; Race Terra roaring underneath. Spectators crowd above and alongside, cheering as we vanish into the desert.
Most trucks out here run big V8s. We stuck with a small, original four-cylinder. It’s a unique choice — and it sounds incredible, screaming through the sand.
The first time Sean and Owen meet the crew today, it’s quick: hop out, snacks, stretch, status check. Dan and Larry dive straight into the dirt, checklist in hand.
“It’s a whoop-fest, man,” Sean laughs, pulling off his helmet.
“Clearly!” yells Dan from under the truck.
The rear differential is leaking again — bottoming out so hard the fuel cell is striking the diff bolt, tearing threads and causing play. We’d already tried grinding for clearance. Not enough, apparently.
“It’s like delicate surgery,” Dan says, screwdriver in hand, pulling the bolt.
He pulls out orange earplugs — those kinds of earplugs — seals the fix with a heavy coat of RTV and Gorilla tape. In racing, you do what you have to.
Sean thinks fast. “Let’s double up the bump stops.”
Owen calls out times. Another crucial job of the co-driver: clock management. “We gotta leave by 1:25. 1:30 latest.”
Larry grabs the bump stops box. Owen jacks up the truck. They get it done.
Sean mentions the four-wheel-drive noise again — not totally fixed. Noted for later. You prepare for everything… and still expect surprises.
Sean shakes his head, thinking back to the last section. “Forty miles of soft sand. We were at 3,600 RPM in second gear for like an hour straight.”
By the time the Race Terra takes to the course, motorcycles, trophy trucks, and a slew of other vehicles have left their mark, tearing up whatever was. By the time our class makes it through the course, we’d argue the terrain was even tougher.
“But it’s running good, better than ever,” Sean finishes. Last night he dropped in a new carburetor jet, going up one size to richen up the mixture. The truck is responding better now, probably getting seven miles to the gallon.
Larry quickly uncouples the front drive shaft and packs on as much grease as possible. It’s a last-ditch effort to try and remedy the four-wheel-drive noise. The wind blows some sand and rocks in for good luck as we button it back up.
Even the livery looks fast. And it looks so good covered in dust. The 33” tires splash through the sand and over whoops, the late afternoon sun is to our backs as we race down towards Laguna Chapala. This dry lake is another incredibly iconic part of Baja. Back in the early days of desert racing, when some of the first Scouts were down here, Laguna Chapala served as a common pitstop for crews. But instead of chase trucks, they had Cessnas. The terrain was worse, support vehicles were less capable, and flying made the most sense. Fuel drops, parts drops, and a great view, too. The dry lake provided ample room for service. But also allowed racers to open things up. Some cars and trucks will easily see triple-digit speeds here. But again, our motto is “medium and steady.” The Race Terra is soon a mirage.
“Dry as a bone back there!” Dan yells the next time he sees the truck. He’s underneath the rear checking for any differential leaks. All clear. “The four-wheel drive is better, too, but not perfect,” Sean responds. And then they’re off again.
South of Laguna Chapala is the Valle de los Cirios, the largest protected nature preserve area in Mexico. Out of nowhere, thousands of towering cirio plants and giant saguaros fill the desert void. They’re like weeds out here, as far as the eye can see. Tall, ancient, foreign.
The Race Terra sends a GPS message to the chase crew asking for five gallons of gas. Facts are more important than excuses; the chase crew responds that they have none, but will try and source some. Again, an entirely new truck this year, and we’re still learning fuel range two days into the race.
Memories from years past remind us of a roadside “gas stop” further ahead. A local in an old truck with a couple of 55-gallon drums, a siphon, and a hand-painted sign that reads ”GASOLINA” magically appears.
“Lleno, por favor! Fill ‘er up, please!” We never know the quality or octane of gas we’re getting with a stop like this, but it’s necessary at this point. Dan mixes in race fuel concentrate to raise the quality as much as we can. The gas cans get transferred to the four-wheel drive chase truck and readied for a gas deployment.
It quickly turns back the way it came and finds a dirt road that leads towards the course. The crew gets out on foot and sprints forward, arms full of 10 gallons of gas. We catch the Race Terra by 60 seconds, flagging it down and filling it up. It was perfectly synchronized, like we had done it a million times. “That was the most adrenaline I’ve felt in a long time,” says Larry, half out of breath.
From here, it’s the last stretch into Bahia de Los Angeles. The sun is low, and the mountains over the coast into the bay are painted purple. The Race Terra pulls to the finish just at dark, the KC Daylighters illuminated, grinning from ear to ear, just like the drivers. The relief of pulling in for the day is hard to beat; all the past worries from the day melt away for a little while.
Stickers are like currency here. Locals crowd the finish line, kids and fans alike come up to the racers, shake hands, and take pictures posed against the trucks.
Over dinner, we discuss our maintenance for the night. “Everything,” Sean says. “We hit a big rock pretty hard”. Sean asks Larry to grab cardboard and a permanent marker. “I’m a little scatterbrained, let’s make a list,” he says with a mouth full of dinner.
Dan and Larry get busy inspecting the truck. It’s second nature at this point. Sean puts on his mechanic suit for the first time on the trip. He crawls under the truck and starts working. The list is long for tonight.
From beneath the drive shaft, we hear Sean report, “We have to push hard tomorrow. No room for error.”
Follow along as the adventure unfolds at the Mexican 1000.
Scout Motors on Instagram /NORRA Mexican 1000 rally | Follow the Vintage Scout Racing Program on Instagram.
Scout, Terra, and Traveler are registered trademarks and trademarks of Scout Motors Inc. All the other trademarks are the property of their respective owners.
Back to Baja: Sean Barber Returns to the Mexican 1000®
The last time the Anything Scout founder raced Baja, disaster struck. Will fortune favor him this year?
Scout Racing: When Super Scout™ Racers Conquered the Desert
The Scout SUV, already an off-road icon, was well positioned to capitalize on the trend when a privately-owned 800A marked the brand’s desert-racing debut in the 1969 Baja 1000®.
The Scout® Traveler™ SUV and Scout® Terra™ Truck
Scout Motors has unveiled two heritage-inspired, 8-day-a-week concept vehicles.
