The Gambler 500

One Wednesday morning, while I was at my nine to five, my good friend Cole Keller called to ask me a question. Would I like to drive over a thousand miles away and participate in The Gambler 500. A car rally through Central Oregon in which we would navigate unethical cars through places their engineers never intended for them to go. The weapon of choice being a 1991 Lexus LS400 equipped with all-terrain tires and some body modifications.

Quickly after we hung up, I was in my boss’s office to let him know that I was going to need the next couple of days off…

Our trip started down in San Diego at around 10 PM. Within the first hour, the familiar smell of tires rubbing indicated that we having some clearance issues up front. Luckily we were near Cole’s workspace so we stopped to “correct” the problem. With a little help from an angle grinder, we were able to alleviate all contact. Shortly after, we were back on the road and headed into the night.

For the next next fifteen hours, the Lexus gave us error free driving and a quick truck stop nap.

As we arrived in the small town of Lebanon, Oregon, we parked right off Main Street. We were greeted by a slew of cars that had no business being as rowdy as they were, a clear sign that we were in the right place. Luckily for us, we parked next to some folk that had Gambled a time or two and let us join their caravan.

Once the CB Radio channels were paired and coolers were filled with ice, we headed into the wilderness. We traveled down narrow logging roads usually reserved for massive trucks hauling timber.  So from time to time we would get a call and be told to pull over ASAP due to 80,000 pounds of lumber on wheels coming our way.

Praise be thy CB radio.

As the roads became rougher, we found our wheels rubbing again. This time, in the rear. Well... luckily we brought a mallet, a sawzall, and some power shears. With some gentle massaging and a little weight reduction, we were in the clear.

Cole was then kind enough to let me spend some time behind the wheel. About a minute and a half to be exact.

After obtaining the keys to a vehicle in which I have never operated, I soon attempted to slide around a corner. Only to realize its power band was different from that of my daily driver(duh). As the slide started to fade and the rear started to regain traction, we casually drove into the base of the mountain beside us. After some additional adjustments, we were back on the road. Thankfully, it ended up being more funny than it was inconvenient.

Eventually, everyone converged back at a central country store. Giving everyone the chance to gathering up last minute supplies they had not realized they needed and to replinish those they ran out of.

As the day ended, we went down one final dirt road towards a clay pit deep within the Gilchrest Forest. Where we would call home for the night.

The road quickly came to an end and the trees opened up as we arrived at what looked like a scene out of a movie. Hundreds of Gamblers were running amuck. Body swapped econoboxes and pit bikes as far as the eye could see. New friends learning about each others monstrosity. Old friends sharing some of over-due beers together. All of this while the sky presented us with its own beautiful display of oranges and reds.

To say the stoke was high would be an understatement. Everywhere you turned there was nothing but good times.

The following day, even though the event was officially over, we decided to head south towards Diamond Lake through a matrix of gravel and fire roads. It was our last night on the road... or so we thought. More on that later though.

At this point in our adventure, we hadn’t showered in over 3 days and were covered in what felt like 10 pounds of dirt. The lake was a fantastic and much needed way to put a cap on our time in Oregon.

The next morning, we drove down to Crater Lake and said our goodbyes to our crew as they planned on staying little longer to do some sight seeing.

Four hours into our drive home and forty-five miles from the nearest town, our left front tire blew. We were able to put the undersized spare on and limp it the rest of the way to Redding, Ca. Only to arrive minutes after all the tire stores closed. 

We ended up booking a stay at a sketchy motel, got tattoos, and somehow ended up at a karaoke bar inside of a casino. Which in an odd way, fit the theme of the entire trip.

The next morning we spared no time getting outta dodge. With the new tire on, the rest of the drive went off without a hitch. Stopping only periodically to top off the power steering fluid.

All said and done, this trip ended up being one of my favorite car experiences ever. No real destination or time line. Just a good friend, a solid car and beautiful driving roads. I encourage you to participate in at least one Gambler 500 in your life.

If you do, just do yourself a favor and bring a decent sized mallet.