Down and dirty with Cody Crocker

The filth & the fury

It's all a bit surreal, like I'm looking at myself in a World Rally Championship crash clip. Um, help. Anybody?

Crocker, a triple Australian and two-time Asia-Pacific rally champion, has lured me to Canberra with the promise of a wild ride in his Possum Bourne Motorsport Subaru WRX STi, with a bonus: "We're also going to have two new Polaris ATVs to have a fang in; c'mon, it'll be fun," said the rally spider to the gravel fly. Fun for whom, I wondered?

I've never ridden one of those pesky half-motorcycle, half-dune buggy contraptions before and the idea of getting chucked into the scenery like a cowboy off a buckin' bronc doesn't exactly push my buttons. But he's a charming chap, Cody, and I relented. So here I am, one week later, looking at the world at a cock-eyed 90-degree angle trying to release my seatbelt without falling on my head.

Yes, I've gone tits up, put the thing on its ear, turned turtle. There's a first time for everything and this is my maiden inversion, honest. And yes, I pushed too hard in a classic case of ego overtaking ability.

On a fast downhill section the tail had stepped out in soft sand at around 80km/h, almost flat out. I wound on opposite lock and thought I'd caught it, but not quite. O-oh. Rather than go head-first down the side of the hill and potentially barrel roll, I jammed on the four-wheel discs and skidded to a halt, but the right front wheel hit a rut and - it - just - fell over on its side. Plop.

After clambering out through the half windscreen and counting my arms and legs, I looked around, only to see Cody going like a blue blur in the valley below, testing for an upcoming rally. "Mate, I'm up here... mate?"

If this were a World Rally, a chopper full of medicos would soon whump whump into view. Instead, and after 20 minutes and no sign of a rescue team, I hike back up the hill and raise the alarm. The undamaged Polaris is righted by two people and I sheepishly drive it back to the service park. Slowly.

The day had started propitiously when I realised that the Ranger RZR - Polaris's new high performance model - is not a four-wheeled motorcycle but an AWD 'car', with side-by-side seating, seatbelts, a steering wheel, floor shifter and throttle and brake pedals; normal stuff in other words. And, happily, a roll cage.

Polaris, which sponsors Crocker, has brought two versions of the 760cc V-twin-powered ATVs, one with standard suspension and one with a Dragonfire long-travel (an extra 100mm) suspension kit for hardcore off-roading. Each has been blinged up with gear from a list of options, including sports exhaust, skid plates and alloy wheels.

The base model starts at $17,000, but our optioned examples totted up to $30,900 for the long-travel model (the suspension kit alone is $7150) and $23,930 for the standard vehicle. According to Polaris, the average buyer whacks on another $4-6K worth of extras.

These lightweight bush denizens are big business in the US and in Oz, and are used by the army, farmers, Gen-X off-roaders and hunters. In the gun-happy US, you can get one in camouflage green with matching jungle duds, naturally, to make bringing home that "four-legged trophy" - a quote from the brochure - that much easier.

Currently you can only drive them on private property here, but there's a push to have ATVs classified the same as dirt bikes, and therefore able to be registered as recreational vehicles.

My ATV initiation begins with a mandatory viewing of the Polaris safety DVD, which was obviously produced by the company's legal eagles because, frankly, if you adhere to most of its strict directives you would barely get past starting one up. Basically, we broke every rule in the book, which could also explain why I rolled the thing.

Fetchingly kitted up in motocross gear I strap into the RZR with the longer suspension travel first, reasoning it might be a little less skittish over bumps. I am no gravel gaucho, as you may have already gathered. Our 3km loop throws up just about every off-road challenge there is, with the exception of rock climbing, river crossings and snow.

An ever-changing mix of sand, shale, bumps, washouts and 'marbles' means grip is always compromised and the course rises and falls more steeply than the maximum 15 degrees recommended on the DVD.

After an exploratory lap, I begin to cut loose, building up speed and confidence. The speedo reads '40' in the fastest downhill section and I think, "40km/h feels quick in one of these". Later I realised it was 40 mph; the RZR has a top speed of 55 (88km/h).

The coil-over suspension (independent at the front with pre-load adjustable springs all round) provides a surprisingly cushy ride, but on the flipside, this RZR nervously bump steers a lot and that is magnified by the long-travel (340mm) suspension. Crocker later notices that the toe-in is out of whack at the front, which he says, explains the bump steer.

The Polaris doesn't feel powerful, especially uphill, but its torquey, low-revving mid-mounted engine only has to propel 428kg. All 38kW and 66Nm are channelled through a smooth, dual-range CVT transmission (Polaris doesn't quote power or torque figures; we requested them). One figure quoted, though, is a 0-56km/h time of four seconds.

Overseas, there is an ATV hot rodding industry and you can buy turbo and supercharger kits that can double power and torque. We've also seen RZRs lowered and running slicks!

With on-demand AWD selected by a button on the dash, the RZR is rear-wheel drive until it detects more than a quarter revolution of slip at either rear wheel, at which point it sends 50 percent of torque to the front diff. You can't feel the front wheels kicking into the traction equation; it's seamless. The fat little off-road tyres provide a lot of grip, but switch off AWD and it's easy to hang the rear-end out under either power or braking, as I found out.

Cody finishes testing and I recount my adventure to him. He, of course, thinks it's hilarious; naturally, he's never up-ended one. When we finally head out together I bag the Polaris with the 'low rider' suspension; it's a revelation and much faster. This stiffer version has a front anti-roll bar as well and it makes a big difference to turn-in, sharpening up steering responses. It's the pick of the two.

Trying to keep up with Cody, however, is a joke. Where I back off or brake for corners, he flat sticks it, lifting wheels and Scando-ing it, demonstrating ultimate commitment. I'm soon choking in his dust and back off when visibility drops.

To emphasise the gulf between hack and hero we decide to have a one-lap shoot-out over the course. By now, I've probably done 20 laps but Cody only gets one sighter - can't give him a leg up now, can we? To spice things up he takes a passenger and roars off. Two minutes and 57 seconds later he broadslides to a stop, his passenger panting. Strangely, no one is game enough to ride with me.

After my earlier indiscretion I decide to stay in AWD and blast off, pushing as hard as I dare. I'm sliding and slipping but feeling in control and pass by the scene of my first wreck without incident. Yes!

The halfway mark is at the bottom of a steep descent and it's a hairpin turn around a pole. The surface leading up to the corner is loose shale but I figure Cody is probably making most of his time on me under braking, so I brake late and hard. Big mistake. The rears lock up and the tail flicks out. I snatch oppy lock but the RZR bounces up onto two wheels and stays up for what feels like an eternity.

It's amazing what goes through one's mind in a split second. My first thought is, "I'm really going to roll it this time". My second involves V8 Supercar ace Craig Lowndes. I once asked him how to get a car safely down from two wheels to four and he said turn in the direction you want to go. So I do and the Polaris miraculously rights itself.

Foolishly, I'm convinced I'd had my one big scare for the lap so I push on, undaunted. Rounding a bend to the uphill finish line I look up expecting to see a bunch of blokes waiting for me. But there is no one. "Damn, must've gone the wrong way," I curse. In the time it takes to think that, I lose it on the final curve and perform another harmless but faster quarter roll, 10 metres from the finish line!

This time there is a rescue party - of one. Timekeeper Ben Atkinson, Cody's co-driver and brother of Subaru World Rally driver Chris, emerges from behind a bush to help me out of the ATV. I'm a bit banged up but otherwise fine. Hang on, why was Ben behind a bush and where is everyone else?

Turns out they thought they'd play a joke on me along the lines of, "You were taking so long we couldn't be bothered waiting", and had scarpered over the hill. Atkinson stopped his watch when he heard a familiar crunching sound and says I was only 16 seconds off Cody's time when I crashed out. So near, yet so far.

When the others finally emerge, Crocker tries to figure out what went wrong, and reckons I got caught out by a mix of smooth and marbled surfaces at the apex.

Everyone except me thinks it's funny, including the Polaris man who now has two formerly brand new but now slightly used ATVs as crashed by Wheels. Must be worth more now.

On a serious note, while the Polaris RZR is hardly the most powerful vehicle you can buy, it's quick enough to get you into trouble under the wrong conditions. Also, despite a claimed industry-leading low centre of gravity, the narrow RZR (127cm) can get the wobbles and, because it can easily get to places where help is unlikely to be close at hand, you'd be advised to treat the little bugger with respect.

That said, safety features like a full roll cage, bucket seat with lap-sash or four-point harness and safety nets work; I found out. However, the latter probably should cover the full 'door' opening, not half, to keep arms inside the cabin in the event of a crash.

Of course, you won't need any of this stuff if you drive like Cody and not me.

BALL-BEARING BALLET
Three furious minutes in Crocker's 'work' car ...
Strapped tightly into co-driver Ben Atkinson's ridiculously small race seat, I knew what to expect from a three-minute blast with Cody around his Rally Of Canberra test track, but the violence and speed of the 'ride' still sucked the breath from my lungs and rattled my now tender spine.

Unlike a lap in a V8 Supercar on a familiar racetrack, a rally stage is 'blind' for a passenger, sometimes literally; where the road goes, only Cody knows. And he treats it just like a competition stage; balls to the wall.

At the start line, he activates launch control, which restricts revs to 5500, floors the throttle, counts down from five then drops the clutch and lets electronics decide just the right amount of power for a neck-snapping start.

Grip is instantaneous and ferocious as the electronically-controlled centre diff maximises traction. Even through a helmet, the audio track is a high-dB mix of brake squeal and turbo and straight-cut gear whine backed by a percussion section of stones smashing on the underside of the Rex.

Changing gears at only 4800rpm, smack dab at the peak of a motherlode of turbo torque, Cody flat-shifts the dog 'box to fourth within 200 metres then mashes the brakes and flicks the Subaru through a flat-out bend. After this I remember little of the route.

Over the intercom he keeps up a steady stream of 'pace notes', calling corners and gears in rapid fire verbal stabs and warning of jumps and compressions.

The road is narrow, undulating, and extremely slippery and the car never stops moving, slithering left and right. There are constant corners, dips and crests but Cody deliberately keeps the car dancing, almost unbalanced, setting it up in one corner for two corners ahead. Despite this ball-bearing ballet, the Rex goes exactly where cody wants it.

The Group N STi's top speed in fifth is around 180km/h but with hardly any straights to max out on we hit only 148km/h. Half the time that's in sweepers. That may not sound fast, but when you're sideways at 140-plus approaching a blind crest you tend to squirrel grip the roll cage.

It's all over in a few minutes and I have a desperate need for extra laps to help me break down the experience into megabytes of more easily distilled information but time is up.

Thanks Cody. Next time I drive, okay? Cody ... what did I say? Mate, come back ...

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