Motorsport’s for Everyone

Well, it’s been a few months now since our adventure out to Finke, but it seems like a good time to say thanks to all those who helped us along the way. It started back in August 2023 when my good mate Vaughn Hogan told me he was thinking of selling his off-road racing buggy. Vaughn and I had represented Australia in 2015 in Disabled Waterskiing and became good mates with a common love for water skiing and adrenaline sports. Vaughn had the ‘Finke Off-road Race’ on his bucket list, and in 2021, he bought a Can-Am Maverick Racing Buggy with the intention of competing.

For Vaughn, there were additional hurdles to overcome. Vaughn had been involved in a motorbike accident in 2007, where he suffered a spinal cord injury and lost the use of his legs. This meant the buggy had to be modified with hand controls to allow him to operate the accelerator and brake. The next hurdle was making sure the buggy met all the requirements of Motorsport Australia so he could compete in ‘Off-Road Motorsports’ events. This was a major challenge in itself, and over the next seven months, adjustments to the roll cage were made to allow Vaughn to transfer in and out of the buggy while also meeting the safety requirements of Motorsport Australia.

Upon completing the buggy and a few outings to friends’ farms, it looked like it was going to be too hard to make Finke a reality. Vaughn was struggling to find anyone who could commit to helping him with the goal and had a buyer lined up to purchase the buggy. On the phone that night, Vaughn told me the news, and I asked how I could help out. A few days later, I made the commitment, and we started putting together a list of what needed to be done and how we would go about meeting all the requirements to make Finke a reality.

Firstly, I needed to join a motorsports club, then I needed my navigator’s license, and lastly, we needed to compete in a couple of off-road races to qualify for Finke. We spoke at length about our physical limitations, and both of us accepted the risks of motorsports, just like everyone else who competes. We were well aware of our limitations and each other’s attitude toward risk. But we also knew we were not going out there to win. We just wanted to compete and do our best.

I made a phone call to Ian Irons at the Sydney Off-road Racing Club, and I was very thankful that our paths had crossed. After a few conversations, both Vaughn and I joined the Sydney club, and our journey began. It was decided that Nabiac would be a good starting point for our entry into off-road motorsports, as it was early in the season and would allow us to get some time racing, and more importantly, in the sand. We prepped the buggy, and Ian called ahead to warn the Nabiac Committee that a quadriplegic and his navigator with one leg were coming up to race. (I wish I was a fly on the wall in that meeting!) What an eye-opener.

Having never competed in any motorsports, it sure was a steep learning curve. The committee at Nabiac was very supportive, and it was a fantastic introduction to motorsports. But man, did we have nerves! Things seemed to happen so fast: "Be here, be there, don’t do this, make sure you do that," and as fast as you can. The weekend was tough—nerves, stress, heat, and fatigue from racing. We soon realized the buggy wasn’t set up well enough, and we would need to make some adjustments for our next race. Fatigue had started to set in toward the end of the race as Vaughn struggled with the steering while the buggy was thrown about in the sand, and our navigation setup was definitely not adequate. But we finished, and there were smiles on our faces as we crossed the finish line. We stayed upright, had a lot of fun, and met some really nice people who had gone out of their way to help us over the weekend.

Over the next few weeks, we determined that the wheels we had on the buggy had a wider offset than ideal, which was causing feedback through the steering as we maneuvered the buggy around the track. It became apparent that maybe the power steering in the buggy was also not providing the assistance Vaughn required, and after some research, a power steering booster and some new rims were ordered. We also set up a more user-friendly GPS navigation system, which was easily managed on the run.

Unfortunately, our next planned race in Sydney was canceled, so we decided to head down to Victoria to compete in the Rainbow 480 Desert Race. We needed more time in the sand, but we also wanted to see how the buggy handled with the upgraded power steering and wheels. Some faulty wiring in the power steering unit gave us an anxious 12 hours leading into the race, but what’s racing without late nights and last-minute dramas? Rated as one of Australia’s toughest off-road races, Vaughn and I were feeling very anxious leading into the event. People had described the race as being tougher than Finke and told us not to be discouraged if we didn’t finish. Like Nabiac, the committee at Rainbow was very accommodating and supportive of what we were doing. But we were very aware that we had a lot of eyes on us. We were not aware of anyone else with that level of disability competing in motorsports—a guy in a wheelchair driving and his navigator only has one leg. Should we be there? Should we be allowed to race? Would we be competitive enough? And then, on top of that, we had all the racing nerves. Where do we need to be? What’s the schedule? How much fuel? What tire pressure?

Vaughn had enlisted the help of Rod and Kodi Visser to support us over the weekend. It was during this weekend that we began to feel like we understood the formalities and where and when we needed to be. Rod (Comfab Racing), having been in the race circuit since the early 80s, and his son Kodi, really helped us with our scheduling and race strategies. We had one goal in mind: we wanted to finish the race. The Rainbow 480 Desert Race was just what we needed. In our minds, we felt that if we could get through Rainbow, then Finke was achievable.

We were worried about fatigue setting in, as it was a significantly longer race than Nabiac, but the modifications we had made to the buggy had done just what we had hoped. The steering was significantly lighter, and the feedback from the front end was minimal. We finished Rainbow in 7.5 hours of total driving time, with over five hours behind the wheel on Sunday (Day 2 of the event). Vaughn held up, the car held up, and we finished (24 out of the 52 cars did not). By now, Finke was in our sights. Rainbow had given us some experience and confidence that we could get it done.

We needed another Motorsport Australia race to qualify, so the Pooncarie Desert Dash was locked in—another long race (422km) with some fast sections and sand. Going into Pooncarie, we had a lot more confidence in the buggy and our ability. We had worked out the racing schedule and when and where we needed to be. Vaughn needed about 2.5 hours to get ready to be in the buggy by 7 a.m. so all this was taken into consideration. It’s not as easy as throwing on a race suit, grabbing a banana, and hopping in the buggy (that’s me!). For Vaughn, it’s a process, and it takes time. We had also been working on getting in and out of the buggy. We spent a lot of time on this. Vaughn had set up a mattress on the floor alongside the buggy in his garage so he could practice getting in and out without falling on the concrete. Getting the routine sorted out and building up the muscles required to make it as quick as possible within the timeframe required by Motorsport Australia.

Pooncarie was also the final box we needed to tick to meet the Finke entry requirements. We had another great weekend, finishing in 37th place. Our goal was to finish the race, and we got it done. Nearly 30% of the cars that started did not finish, so to us, that was an achievement in itself. We were checking boxes off, and in our minds, Pooncarie was the last one. We sent our entry off and started planning for Finke. Our goal was to finish.

It’s a tradition at Finke that upon getting to Finke and back, a competitor receives a railroad spike as a memento. Vaughn had his sights on a ‘Finke Survivor Spike.’ To get the spike, we had to not only get to Finke but also get back to Alice Springs. The trip was planned, the buggy was prepared, accommodation was booked, and things were starting to feel real. We were going to Finke. Bucket list.

Like all motorsports, off-road racing is expensive—not just in terms of the buggy, maintenance, and fuel, but also the travel associated with it. With the support of Jason Reid and the amazing community where Vaughn lives in Bright, Victoria, we went up to Finke with a newfound sense of duty. First, we wanted to show that we could do it (Finke and back), but we also wanted to make those who had stepped up to support us proud. It’s a real team effort at Finke because of the remoteness, and we were not let down. Vaughn’s wife Kelly (who had been to all of our events leading up to Finke) and my partner Sharon led the team. We enlisted my nephew to head to Finke with the support vehicle, carrying all our food, fuel, tools, and parts. Then, a good friend of Vaughn’s made the trip out in his helicopter to follow us down the track, record the event, and help out if required. Rod & Kodi Visser (and team), who were also racing, were a huge support in the lead-up to and during the event.

Being in central Australia is pretty amazing, but off-road racing out there is on another level. The atmosphere in Alice Springs throughout the lead-up and event is hard to describe. The thrill of the sport was clearly evident among the competitors and spectators. Finke was an amazing experience—a tough track through some amazing countryside. Not everything went to plan, and on Day 1, just before we left Alice on our way to Finke, we got notification that our support vehicle had broken down and it was unlikely it would make it. We left Alice not knowing what to expect when we arrived—whether we would have food, a swag, or even fuel for the return trip. Our crew really stepped up and came to the rescue.

The rain in the lead-up to the race helped keep the dust down, but about 3 km into the race, we drove straight through a deep puddle of water that not only saturated us but also created havoc with the muddy water on the helmet lenses. With Vaughn using one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the throttle, it was up to me to try and clean his visor. Anyone who’s been in a race harness knows there’s considerable restriction in movement, but after slowing down and a few failed attempts, we managed to get the visor clean and kept moving.

Our limitations were evident but not unmanageable. Finke was the first race we had competed in that was not a loop, and as we were at the bottom of the grid, it meant we didn’t have to worry so much about the big trophy trucks lapping and dusting us at speeds we could only dream of. We had a relatively clean run down and managed to pass a few cars along the way. I probably need to confess: not all of them were moving. Some were upside down, some were missing pieces, and some were under tow on the service road beside us. But we were still there on the track and heading south.

It was a relief when we powered into Finke to discover that our crew had swapped out the recovery vehicle and were a couple of hours away with our supplies. Our crew had really stepped up. It’s hard to fathom how remote the Finke community is. We were 240 km from Alice Springs as the crow flies but about five hours away by road. Besides the finish line, there was a game of Aussie Rules being played by the local Indigenous community on a pitch that was pure dirt—no grass to be seen. Some kids wore boots, and some were barefoot. Definitely a tough place to live, and I’m guessing you need to be tough to live there.

The buggy had fared well on the way down, so after a refuel and a couple of quick checks, we were ready for the return trip. A steak on the BBQ, followed by fireworks and a few stories around the campfire, and it was off to bed under the stars in preparation for the return to Alice the next day.

Our claim to fame on Day 2 on the way home was passing Craig Lowndes in the Chevrolet Silverado production ute. We last saw him in our rearview mirror, and with the chopper overhead following us, it would have made for some great footage. It was, however, a little disappointing that there was no dust trailing the Chevy when we passed and that it was sitting on a funny angle. But we’ll take the win.

Coming back into Alice was surreal. We had done it—‘Finke and Back.’ Coming under the Finke finishing banner, we shared a fist pump, knowing that we had done what we set out to achieve. We didn’t go there to win. We went to race, and we went to finish. And what an experience it had been. It had taken us across four different states, we had met some great people, and we had ticked off a bucket list item. We had raced, we had finished (70th out of 122), and we now had a Finke Survivor Spike to prove it.



Like all sports, there are a lot of people out there who are accepting, accommodating, and supportive of those around them. Motorsport is no different. Vaughn and I were both lucky enough to have met some of those people on our journey—some of whom are mentioned above and some of whom are not. But to all those who helped us along the way, THANK YOU. We are extremely grateful.