麻豆传媒

LAST November we received an invitation we couldn鈥檛 refuse. Would we like to
drive across the US on solar power alone? The challenge was to race our ageing
car, Mad Dog 3, the full length of Route 66, 3600 kilometres from Chicago to LA.
We hadn鈥檛 planned to race this summer and we鈥檇 have just eight months to upgrade
the car. But we couldn鈥檛 say no.

Mad Dog runs entirely on sunlight, using solar panels to charge a 28-kilogram
lithium ion battery, which powers an electric engine. You drive the car from a
tiny cockpit at the front, lying on your back inside the sleek and aerodynamic
bodywork. The car鈥檚 upper surface is covered with photovoltaic cells鈥�8
square metres in total. Top speed is close to 90 kilometres an hour.

All through the bleak London winter we toiled to get the car ready. It was a
tough job as the race regulations required us to make major modifications. We
had to upgrade the brakes, develop a new battery system, rebuild the cockpit
and鈥攍uckily, as it turned out鈥攕tiffen the chassis. By mid-June the
car was ready for shipping. But we were by no means certain it would pass the
pre-race qualification, let alone complete the course.

Things started to go wrong even sooner. The ship taking the car to New York
was a week late, which cost us valuable preparation time. Once the car arrived
we had to haul it another 1300 kilometres to Western Michigan University in
Kalamazoo, where the pre-race preparations were taking place. Being a low-budget
team, we could only afford to hire a clapped-out Dodge truck. Unfortunately, the
weight of the trailer was too much for the old banger and the rear suspension
gave way. It took a day to fix. By now we were running very late.

Meanwhile, back in London, six Malaysian students who were due to join us in
Chicago were refused visas. They were supposed to be in charge of race strategy
and the telemetry system, which beams readings from the car to the support
vehicles. We鈥檇 have to do it the old-fashioned way. Whoever was driving took
readings manually and relayed them to the crew on a two-way radio.

Solar racing originated in 1983 when Danish adventurer Hans Tholstrup drove a
solar-powered car called Quiet Achiever across Australia. He wanted to prove the
practicality of pollution-free vehicles and though he averaged only 23
kilometres an hour, his feat inspired other teams to attempt the crossing in a
shorter time. In 1987, Tholstrup formalised the contest with a 3000 kilometre
race from Darwin to Adelaide. This was the first World Solar Challenge.

Solar races have since sprung up around the world, including the World Solar
Rallye in Japan, the Sunrayce from Washington DC to Orlando, and now the
American Solar Challenge. Like mainstream motorsport, solar racing is divided
into classes to keep the competition sharp. Top cars race in the Open Class, the
solar equivalent of Formula 1. Cars in this class can use any type of solar
cell, battery or engine. The next tier down is Stock Class, which restricts cars
to lead-acid batteries. Until recently we raced in the Stock Class. But for the
American Solar Challenge we moved up to Open Class. It was going to be a serious
test.

Before we left London I reckoned we had an outside chance of winning. But
once our depleted team arrived at Kalamazoo and saw what we were up against, I
changed my mind. The University of Michigan team, for example, had a budget of
$2 million鈥攁nd it showed. Their car, M-Pulse, had all the latest
technology including gallium arsenide solar cells. These cells give about 40 per
cent more power than ours. We had little hope of beating them.

A week before the race, 30 teams assembled at the Western Michigan campus for
鈥渟crutineering鈥�. This is a series of rigorous tests by the organisers to make
sure the cars are fit for the race and don鈥檛 break the rules. Scrutineering took
three days and the inspectors checked everything鈥攃hassis, brakes,
electrical systems, solar array, batteries, indicators, mirrors. You name it,
they scrutinised it.

Mad Dog passed, but the inspection brought some bad news. Our solar array had
lost some of its power. Instead of 1100 watts we only registered about 950
watts, meaning a drop in our average speed of at least 5 kilometres an hour.
This would undoubtedly cost us places in the race, which was frustrating.
Eventually we discovered that spraying with what we thought was purified water
had deposited a calcium film on the array. We needed special chemicals to clean
the array but it was too late to get hold of them, so we had to run on reduced
power. Bang went our chances of winning.

South Bank started racing solar cars in 1996. We built our first car, Mad Dog
1 (as in 鈥渕ad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun鈥�) for the 1996 World
Solar Challenge in Australia, finishing 32nd out of 47. Two years later, Mad Dog
2 won the Stock Class in the World Solar Rallye in Ogata-Mura, Japan. Our latest
car, Mad Dog 3, made its debut in the 1999 World Solar Challenge and came second
in its class. Our most recent outing had been the 2000 Rallye Ph茅bus in
France, which we won.

Before we could tackle Route 66 we had to qualify for the race by completing
200 kilometres at the GingerMan Raceway, a circuit two hours鈥� drive from
Chicago, at an average speed of 40 kilometres an hour. On paper this looked
easy, and we didn鈥檛 anticipate any problems. Mad Dog ran well and powered past
many of the other cars. We were lapping at about 55 kilometres an hour with
peaks of 90 kilometres an hour on the straights. But from the pits we could see
a white line appearing on a front tyre, indicating that the rubber was gone and
the tyre was running on the fabric. If it burst we were out of the race. We
crawled home to qualify, but it meant we鈥檇 have to start near the back of the
grid.

The day before the race began, all 30 cars and their support vehicles arrived
at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, the starting point. We were as
ready as we would ever be. We had our old Dodge as chase vehicle, a hire car as
lead and a U-Haul van to carry all the equipment. But compared with some teams
we were on a shoestring. The University of Michigan had bought a huge truck and
converted the trailer into air-conditioned workshops, sleeping accommodation and
storage. They even had a mechanical lift to haul their car into the trailer.

The next morning, the cars lined up and set off at 1-minute intervals. Large
crowds lined the streets and waved and clapped as the teams set off on their
epic journey. Mad Dog began winding its way through the streets of Chicago.
Unfortunately, it鈥檚 easy to get lost in Chicago and it wasn鈥檛 long before we
were heading in the wrong direction. Turning a solar car round in the middle of
a busy city is no laughing matter and we lost a frustrating amount of time.
Eventually we found our way out and headed for the great American West.

It soon became clear we were in for a long, hard race. Route 66 is a
neglected and bumpy road with more than 600 stop signs. The surface is rough and
it was actually a relief when the speed limit was 30 mph. But the car was
running well and we passed several teams by the side of the road, either
charging batteries or carrying out repairs.

We reached the first checkpoint, Springfield, about 300 kilometres from
Chicago, in 14th place. We were surprised to be ahead of so many good cars.
Confidently, we drove on towards St Louis. But 20 kilometres down the road we
ran into problems. As we were passing a beautiful lake the car suddenly cut out.
It turned out that our battery management system had lost power. It was too late
to carry on racing so we decided to stay the night by the lake. The landowner
didn鈥檛 mind and even gave us a case of beer. Soon the car was fixed and charging
up in the last of the day鈥檚 sunshine, while we pitched our tents and prepared
for an early start.

Solar racing isn鈥檛 just a sport, there鈥檚 a serious purpose behind it. The
rigours of a race make it a good test for systems and components for electric
vehicles. General Motors won the first World Solar Challenge and put much of
what it learned from its car, Sunraycer, into the development of a commercial
electric car called EV₁. Today, many of the big teams receive
sponsorship from car companies. Ford, for example, backs the Australian team
Aurora, which won the 1999 World Solar Challenge.

We鈥檙e part of a project called Hypercar. Along with our partners, the
University of Queensland in Australia and the Bochum Technical University in
Germany, we plan to build two demonstration solar vehicles next year and drive
them across Australia in 2003. The cars will be designed to perform just as well
as a standard passenger car using a tenth of the energy, thanks to highly
efficient electric engines, ultra lightweight structures, aerodynamic shaping
and special tyres. You could run a car like that from solar panels on your
garage roof鈥攅ven in Britain. The car itself would need 1 or 2 square
metres of solar cells to power auxiliary electronics and keep the battery topped
up.

The first half of the race went very smoothly. The days zoomed by as we
whizzed through Illinois, Missouri, Oklahoma and Texas, and we climbed up the
rankings almost into the top 10. This was a great achievement and we were
confident we could do even better. Mad Dog was running well, averaging around 80
kilometres an hour and coping with hills and traffic. The road even improved,
making the ride far more comfortable.

End of the road

Then it all went wrong. We were in New Mexico, approaching a town called
Adrian, when the heavens opened. Some of us wanted to take shelter but we
decided to press on. As we drove into Adrian in brilliant sunshine it looked
like the right decision. But the next morning we couldn鈥檛 get the batteries to
charge. The tension rose as we spent one-and-a-half frustrating hours trying to
fix them. Back on the road we pushed the car hard to make up the lost time.

After a 30-minute stop at the Tucumcari checkpoint we were on our way. It was
my turn to drive鈥攚e do three-hour shifts, which is as much as you can take
in the hot, noisy and cramped cockpit鈥攁nd as I came over the crest of the
hill I felt the steering stiffen. Moments later it failed completely. Before I
could brake, the car careered into a gully. I expected the front of the car to
break鈥攁long with my legs. Fortunately, the chassis held out and I got out
unscathed. I was lucky to be unhurt鈥攂ut then I checked over the car and my
heart sank. It looked as if our race was over.

The damage was extensive. But Mad Dog had finished every race it had entered
and we were determined not to give up now. We hauled the car back to Tucumcari
and spent five hours fixing it. At 5pm, the organisers inspected Mad Dog and
passed it fit to continue. We set off and managed to make it to Santa Rosa about
80 kilometres away. As we pulled into town we were greeted with a downpour of
biblical proportions. It was an awful end to a truly awful day.

Our objective now was simply to finish the race. We battled though the
blisteringly hot desert and over the Rockies towards Barstow, California, the
final checkpoint before the run into LA. The landscape had changed dramatically
from the lush farmland of Illinois to the barren, sweltering plains of the
Mojave desert.

After nine days and a gruelling 3400 kilometres we eventually made it to
Barstow. Here, all the teams assembled for the final leg. On 25 July we again
set off at 1-minute intervals. Three hours later, Mad Dog drove into LA and over
the finishing line. It was a great feeling. We had driven across the US on
sunlight alone, surviving serious mechanical problems and a major crash. We
finished a respectable 14th. We could have done better, but we were lucky to
finish at all.

At the post-race meal, Michigan University were crowned champions. We won the
prestigious Team Work trophy and the Best Use of Duct Tape award for our success
in fixing the car. In the time-honoured tradition of solar racing we swapped
shirts with the other teams and retired to a bar. It had been a gruelling,
frustrating race, but Route 66 had certainly given us our kicks.