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Byline: MARK VAUGHN
Yes, electricity was in the air at Pikes Peak. It was also in the hair.
"Dude, check out your hair,'' said a colleague as we stood on the 14,115-foot summit of Colorado's 31st-highest peak, lightning striking nearby ridges all around.
Indeed our hair, and that of everyone else's up there in the clouds, was pointing out in all directions like a bad science project. Static electricity from the rolling black clouds was snap-crackle-popping, too. This was dangerous, and we weren't even driving a race car.
Recalling our high school science, we were supposed to either duck-and-cover, roll on the ground until the fire was out or find an ungrounded vehicle that would not conduct electricity from lightning. We chose the latter and wound up in the unlocked 15-passenger van rented by Baja Pro Trucks. If science was right, and we hoped it was, the van's metal body would protect us from an imminent bolt-zapping.
We survived-no lightning struck the actual summit-but the top half of the 12.4-mile Pikes Peak International Hill Climb course was swamped. Race officials wisely closed the course just as yet another ripping storm unloaded snow, hail and rain in almost the same breath of Mother Nature.
It was unfortunate, because the bad weather came after a spectacular morning for the motorcycle riders at this year's hillclimb, the 84th in history and the 90th anniversary (no races were held during the war years). Bikes or quads broke five records on the peak, including the first motorcycle run in less than 12 minutes.