“And these bullet holes are from when we were ambushed in Africa,” explained a voice emanating from the aft end of a squarebody Suburban. “After we sped on a few kilometres, we figured we were out of their weapons range and stopped to change the rear tire.”
Not every road trip includes those sentences.
The voice describing the ambush belongs to Garry Sowerby, a four-time world record holder for long-distance driving and one-half of a driving team that has taken on some of the toughest feats on four wheels. It is not disingenuous to suggest Sowerby has driven more miles in reverse than your author has in forward gears, despite my lot in life as a person who reviews cars for a living.
These vehicular accomplishments – time records set for circumnavigating the globe, driving from the bottom of South Africa to the top of Norway, and trekking from the tip of South America to the top of Alaska – obviously required stout sets of wheels: a 1980 Volvo DL station wagon, a 1984 GMC Suburban outfitted with modifications worth triple its sticker price, and a diesel-powered 1988 GMC Sierra 3500 SLE. Sowerby has retained possession and maintained the fleet, a trio of machines he lovingly refers to as just three of his headaches. Now, for the first time in Canada, they’re on display in the same spot.
Steele Wheels Motor Museum is a dandy invention by the brains behind the Steele Auto Group in Atlantic Canada, a company that owns dozens of car dealerships on the East Coast plus a few scattered in places like Texas where the owner tends to vacation. Hey, who hasn’t bought a dealership or three while on holiday? The new Motor Museum is a riotous collection of machines ranging from Justin Bieber’s matte blue Ferrari 458 to any number of historic Detroit metal from days of yore. They also rent the place out for major events and have a stage for musical performances; rapper Classified performed the evening after our interview with Sowerby.
The squared-off Volvo, used for the 1980 run around the world, is the first car visitors see when walking through the door. More than 300,000 kilometres were added to its odometer after the feat, with only maintenance and replacement of consumable items since its record-breaking drive.
"The car was basically stock when we set off from the CN Tower," explained Sowerby. “We did add Bilsteins and converted the steering to a manual rack.” They also made sure the carburetor could handle a wide array of fuels since the octane rating of gasoline they expected to find in some parts of the world at that time amounted to not much more than spicy water.
The wagon picked up a few things along the journey, including the enormous so-called “roo bar” recommended and fitted by stout Australians before Sowerby and his co-driver hit the Outback. It saved their bacon (and the trip) after a surprise kangaroo encounter halfway across the continent. After all, destroying the car would also mean destroying the record attempt.
Four years later, Sowerby and his co-driver decided to hit the road again, this time with the backing of GMC on a south-north route from deepest South Africa to the coldest Norway. Plans were waylaid at the last minute by political strife along their intended route, underlining the danger of this attempt, which would become all too real a few days into the trek. The lads were wise to have armed guards and fixers aboard for certain sections of the drive, all of whom came in handy when armed bandits ambushed the truck and peppered it full of bullet holes.
Escaping the melee, the Suburban’s V8 engine roared through the dust away from the attack, but the drivers did not know how much damage had been done to the vehicle. Stopping a few kilometres up the road, guards stationed themselves around the GMC while Sowerby and crew feverishly inspected the truck. One bullet tagged the front fender and went right through a headlight, missing critical components like the radiator by mere inches. Other bullet holes were found in areas like the roof rack and side panels, plus a tire was now losing air.
After wrestling a spare from the Suburban’s roof, it was quickly discovered that the jack used to raise the truck and remove its tire had sunk slightly into the ground, meaning all hands had to frantically dig a scallop of space to fit the new tire and wheel assembly, all the while looking out for raiders hell-bent on not wasting any more bullets.
Another four years later, the Tierra del Fuego to Prudhoe Bay run would ostensibly form part of a test for the new-for-1988 GM pickup trucks, the model’s first redesign since 1973. Remember, those were the days in which GM and its brands dominated Canadian roads, holding over 40 per cent market share at times, so introducing a wholly new pickup truck was an immense deal. Even more immense was the decision to fit the ‘88s with an independent front suspension, a radical idea at a time when most buyers thought such technology was only fit for passenger cars. Running one and setting a world record from the tip of South America to the top of Alaska would be an enormous win for the company and proof of the truck’s mettle – assuming it made the trek unscathed, which it ultimately did.
But, for the first few days in the truck, no one on the outside knew its progress, thanks to intentional radio silence on the part of Sowerby and his co-driver. There was genuine concern that broadcasting their progress and intended route would draw the attention of criminals either looking to loot the GMC or take the pair hostage. It's tough to dismiss that notion after what happened four years prior in Africa. With the bare minimum of outside contact – remember, this was decades before smartphones and social media, so it’s not like someone in a remote town could contact their nefarious friends in the next town to prepare an unwelcoming party – the duo skirted trouble in the most dangerous parts of South and Central America. Only once they arrived in Texas did they hold an official press conference. Much of the truck was stock, save for period-correct technology and an auxiliary fuel tank that increased capacity to nearly 550 litres of diesel, a volume that weighs about 1,000 pounds, if you’re wondering.
That’s not to say they didn’t need to talk their way out of a few border situations. Just prior to rolling up to a checkpoint, the lads would make sure they each had a shiny metal pin stuck in an obvious spot in their lapels. The pins commemorated the drive, showing the stickered-up truck and bearing the GMC logo, colourful little things that would attract the eye of border officials. Offering these pins to gendarmes reliably greased the wheels of international travel.
“Sure, but these are our last ones,” the driver and co-driver would sigh, handing them over with a smile to guards, who would then wave them onto the next country. Left unspoken was the fact there was an entire box of these things tucked under the Sierra’s backseat. The lads would just reach back and get two more prior to hitting the next border. A case of vanilla Farmer’s milkshakes served the same purpose. Genius.
The trio of record-setting vehicles will be on display at the Steele Wheels Motor Museum, located in Nova Scotia’s capital city of Halifax, through this summer.
