If there were ever a reason to wake up at 5:00 a.m. on a Saturday, drive two hours and spend a day in the wilderness that is the Michigan/Ohio border, it's the 24 Hours of LeMons. Held several times per year, at several different tracks, it is, without doubt, the world's greatest race of the world's worst cars.

If you're not familiar with the event, here's the gist of it. Teams purchase cars and prep them for a grassroots 24-hour enduro. Sound simple? There's a catch: excluding safety equipment, the total bill for the car and preparations can't exceed $500. That puts a serious limit on what caliber of cars can compete (don't look for any Solo II-spec Alfa GTVs here), hence the "LeMons" pun.

(Click the photos below to launch a high-res gallery, or follow the jump to read more about the 24 Hours of LeMons: Detroit)


That said, the field of forty three cars was relatively diverse. Sure, there were quite a few Neons in attendance, but entrants ranged from a Lincoln Continental Mk VII LSC to a gutted Oldsmobile Achieva SCX. Spectators predicted that a (horribly loud) Mazda MX-6 would soon live up to the mantra "born in Flat Rock, died in Flat Rock." With a pair of Fieros slated to hit the track, we wished someone would field a Fiat X1-9 for a proper showdown. Not surprisingly, this didn't happen.

Racing began shortly after 2:00 p.m, and quickly proved to be entertaining. It's hard to classify, but the LeMons event is an odd cross between stock-car racing, autocrossing, demolition derby and Formula SAE. Cars knocked out early on due to accidents or breakdowns are towed back to the pits, where drivers and their crew scuttle furiously to repair their jalopy. After using just the right amounts of sawzall, JB Weld, duct tape, religious chanting and plain old dumb luck, some made their way back to the track. A perfect example was the number 44 Toyota Celica. After rolling over ten minutes into the race, it made its way back to the course two hours later.

Organizers made use of Flat Rock Speedway's infield, modifying the oval track to include five sharp hairpin corners and an extremely tight backfield section. This proved problematic to the full-size American sedans in attendance. Although they offered nearly bulletproof mechanicals and plenty of disposable sheetmetal, drivers of a "woody" Pontiac Safari wagon, Chevrolet Caprice and late-model Ford Crown Victoria soon found their size to be problematic. The best racing line through the hairpins quite often involved drifting straight through them, which quickly taxed the Crown Vic. A smoldering right rear tire turned out to actually be a brake shoe, which caught fire soon after.

One team, who called themselves "It's The Libyans," brought considerable debris onto the field. Their car, a late '80s Toyota Supra, was treated to some form of automotive "cos-play" to resemble the Back To The Future DeLorean. Cute, but a series of bumps from other traffic launched the Mr. Fusion unit and other decorations onto the track.

Perhaps just as zany are some of the prizes and penalties imposed on competitors. Black flagged for aggressive driving, the pilot of a BMW 5-series was subjected to a LeMons-style tar-and-feathering. After dousing the driver in syrup, series organizer Jay Lamm cut into a goose down pillow, poured the contents over the driver’s suit and into the car. The "Al Gore Carbon Offset Award" went to the team fielding a Camaro RS. After pulling into the pits, the "Arc-Angel" set to tack-welding a lovely silhouette of a pig to the roof.

Jay Lamm, Steve Pasteiner, David E. Davis, Jr., and Csaba Csere

"People's Choice" and Concours awards (judged in part by WINDING ROAD's own David E. Davis, Jr.) lauded awards to specific teams, but the "People's Curse" award wasn't anywhere as coveted. When voted as such, the number 18 Caprice was treated to a crushing, which involved a lifted Toyota pickup driving over the hood. By this point, the Caprice's Hydra-Matic was close to dead, requiring a sacrificial volunteer to hold the brakes while the truck crawled upwards. Safety workers then cut part of the roof with the Jaws of Life to complete the humiliation.

Admittedly, we weren't prepared to stay the entire night (have you ever tried camping in a Cavalier?), so we trekked home after midnight. Although we're still awaiting a full run-down of the results, we can tell you the Number 30 Supra won the event and, surprisingly, no one left in an ambulance.

Only a feathered suit.