On Friday afternoon we drudged through LA traffic and headed east on I-40 towards another time zone. Hotel reservations made, bags packed. We were excited to see what rally is like on the left coast. We arrived around 10:00 Friday night.

I asked the clerk as we checked in. “Does the hotel have a flyer or information about the rally?” “Uh. I don’t know anything about the rally, but there’s stuff over there.” He gestured at a stack of newspapers. “Okay. Great! Thanks.”

I picked up the Colorado River Weekender. The cover page was printed: “Rally at the Ramada Express.” Behind the text, was a picture of a brand new Nissan Xterra on the rally podium. I’ve never seen a rally “Xterra” but – okay. Surrounding this was 4 smaller photos. 2 fuzzy rallycar shots, a couple of scoobies with dust behind them, a Ford pickup, and a Ford Econoline van on the podium. Not sure what they won. Truck of the year or something…

Inside I started to uncover what this rally was all about. Quote from The Weekender: “Viewing of the rally out on the course is tough for the general public [.] For possible spectator points along the courses, ask at the Expo Area [tent in the parking lot.]” “Okay – let’s head over to the tent.”

We crossed the empty lot. “Is it even open?” Christine asked. I walked up and opened the door. I was expecting a carnival atmosphere, maybe some enthusiasm. Three dudes playing RB Rally glanced over and continued to play on the jumbo screen that they had it hooked up to. Being savvy people, we looked around for information on stages, times, and spectator locations. Lots of empty tables. A few JAOS catalogs. I found something promising, scanned through it quickly, and got to a page with spectator maps and directions. “Sweet – that’s what I want.” We took our flyers back to the hotel room and began to scour the information. Planning what to do on Saturday.

After having planned what stages to go to, we looked at other things in the flyer. I noticed that they had re-printed a message from the governor from last year. Upon further inspection I noticed that this flyer WAS last years. “Two thousand and three? This flyer is from 2003! WHY DO I HAVE A FLYER FROM 2003?!” Who ever brought these thinking that they might be helpful was terribly wrong. The next morning I told someone with an American Rally Sport Group (ASRG) jacket that this was stupid. “Well, the stages are the same.” He explained. “No. They’re not the same. If they were the same; I could watch stage SS8 at 10:30 and then SS12 at 2:30 from the same place. SS5 is now running there at 9:30 and it’s eighty miles away.” I look at my watch. “Glad we got moving at 8:00.”

Bust up Route 66 to the Indian Reservation in Arizona where the stages are being run. There are 10 cars parked at the finish. A tent, half a dozen marshals, and no one else. I’m thinking about Fish Pond road at Maine Forest. You get there less then an HOUR before the stage starts – you’re done. You’re parking out in a field with like 40 other cars and walking 2 miles through the woods. We pull off to the left and park on the dirt. Stroll up, just as some of the cars (that started at 9:30) are finishing. “Okay… There’s nobody here.” We walk down through the desert on the left of the stage road. We watch the remaining 12 cars drive up a hill and take a left hander into the finish. Two people are clicking buttons when they see the cars take the final turn and a third is writing down car numbers and transmitting them over a radio.

Then I did something I’ve never done. I left. I left knowing that I could get down near this ledge and get a great view of cars coming my way. I left knowing that a rally without spectators is wrong. No cheers from anyone when the Ford Ranger hung it out around the turn, rooster tails high. No silly banter about this little Ford Festiva that motored up the hill. No, this is all wrong. Imagine a football game with no one but you, the officials, and the team there. Scream your fool head off – you’re not going to get the crowd rush when the opposing team misses that 45 yard kick and your team goes home with a victory.

We head back to the WalMart of Casinos. “Now what?” I ponder aloud. “Well, I heard everyone talking about this rallycross online,” Tine says. “Let’s have a look.” Fifteen or so cars are lined up in a deserted lot behind the hotel. It’s just after 3 O’Clock. Some caution tape and some cones are setup. Looks like we have a rallycross. I suddenly realized that they are running the 2 day rallycross concurrent with the rally. Aren’t these the same people who would normally be watching the rally? Or, have they found a way to bottle up some of that newbie excitement? Instead of having these crazy spectators on a stage road, they are safely behind the hotel flogging their new WRX’s. I’ll admit – If the decision to run a rallycross was to squelch the energy of the Nintendo generation while the real rally took place, it’s a smart idea, but it points out the fact that you have no spectators other then the three dudes playing Richard Burns.

Rally without spectators… Interesting. Well, that’s one way to make sure the sport doesn’t grow. I’m okay with the fact that rally is a trust fund club. I’m also okay with the fact that it’s a niche sport. I guess I’m tired of the message that these groups are sending. Don’t bother going to Laughlin as a spectator. They don’t want you there anyway. The super special stage was fun, but the small crowd consisted of mostly crews and family. It’s certainly not ASRG’s responsibility to educate and excite a new generation of rally lovers. Or is it?

I really would be interested in feedback from anyone in the American Rally Sport Group. I am all about open dialogs and other marketing terms that make people get together and fix what’s broken.

UPDATE: Wow. I got a nerve. I have received a bunch of emails! Some that agree with me and some that think I’m the axis of evil. I’m surprised at how divided it’s been. I want to state the following clearly:

If you don’t want spectators at the stages – be honest. I’d rather that then some misinformation that results in people getting lost. Oh, and I’m from the east coast – you can just call me an asshole.