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Yes. But...
While the cars may have been rescued from Craigslist purgatory, the competition is anything but a joke. Teams are strategizing like it's Le Mans: adding drivers and planning pit stops, and some are even considering motel rooms in Willows for some actual rest. These folks are pulling all-nighters, not for a few laps, but for 25 hours straight—plus a minute.
This isn't just a rolling circus of junkyard beaters (though it's definitely that too). It's a legitimate endurance race that demands real strategy, guts, and sleep deprivation levels that would make any F1 driver tap out. And while Lemons likes to poke fun at itself with zip-tied bumpers and theme cars straight out of your drunk uncle's imagination, make no mistake: racing for 25:01 hours straight is no joke.
A 25-hour race isn't just about keeping your jalopy from exploding—it's about planning every detail. Here's a breakdown of the strategies these teams are running:
Endurance racing is a marathon, not a sprint. Teams often field five drivers to keep stints manageable. The goal? Avoid total exhaustion. Some teams plan their driver schedule like a chess match, with the night owls taking the 2 AM slots and the early risers sliding in at dawn.
You can't run 25 hours straight without catching a little Z's. Some teams even rent motel rooms in Willows to give their drivers real sleep between stints. Others camp out at the track, swapping seats and slumping into RVs or even backseats to catch a quick nap if you can. It's not luxury, but it keeps the wheels turning.
Thunderhill isn't easy on tires. Some teams rotate tires on quick jacks right after midnight, while others gamble on one set for the whole race. It's a game of risk: swap out tires and lose time, or keep rolling and hope you don't shred rubber at the worst possible moment.
Driving at night is a whole different beast. In most of the Lemons races, lights are not needed. Teams are running LED strips, illuminated car numbers, and bumper-mounted lights to survive the night. Forward-facing lights have to be angled so as not to blind other drivers, which makes visibility even harder.
Fueling during a 25-hour race is a delicate dance. Each stop is a chance to refuel, swap drivers, and quickly check for loose bolts or leaking fluids. Too many stops, and you watch the leaders pull away. Too few, and you risk running dry mid-lap.
This is Lemons. Something will break. Whether it's a blown radiator, a cracked oil pan, or a door that won't shut anymore, teams come prepared with spare parts, duct tape, and enough zip ties to build a suspension bridge.
Look, I get it—people love to take shots at 24 Hours of Lemons. "It's just junkyard beaters," they say. "It's a joke," they laugh. But who else is doing 25:01 hours straight in a race car? I don't care if it's a $500 Saturn with a sun-faded hood and 230,000 miles—those teams are doing it. And you know what? They're making it accessible.
Okay, yeah, I am biased. I'm a 24 Hours of Lemons crusty veteran myself. I've been at it for 15+ years with my Dirty Duck Racing team, tearing around tracks in our black 1983 VW GTI. When we started, the car was clean, straight, and probably had a bit of dignity. Fast forward through over 50 races, and that thing looks like it's survived a demolition derby and a bar fight—all in the same weekend. But it still rips (for a VW).
Dirty Duck Racing is a family affair—my father, uncle, and cousin are all part of the team. It's not just about the racing; it's about time spent together, wrenching, laughing, and making memories that spill over far beyond the track. We've shared late-night fixes under bad work lights, mid-race repairs with zip ties and borrowed tools, and more than a few questionable barbecue time decisions.
And the community? Awesome. You break a part, and there's a good chance someone will lend you theirs. You're short on advice; there's always a veteran ready to help you limp your car back to life. Long-standing friendships are built in these pits, the kind forged over busted knuckles.
So yeah, I'm a crusty, biased veteran of this series. But that's because I've seen firsthand what it does. Lemons has opened the door to motorsports for people who would've never had the chance otherwise. High schools, universities, and even fraternities are fielding teams. Young drivers are learning to build, race, and strategize in a real motorsport environment. It's the grassroots entry point that some other forms of racing just don't have. Instead of $100k builds, these teams are scrounging, innovating, and wrenching late into the night to make the green flag.
And yeah, they're wearing banana costumes while doing it. That's just part of the charm.
If you haven't seen it or tried it yet, you're missing out. It's real racing, with real heart and some of the best stories you'll ever hear.
Spectator passes are $40 for the entire weekend, and kids under 16 get in free. You'll have full paddock access (don't touch the cars unless you're crew).
This is what grassroots endurance racing looks like—or maybe want to witness a Volvo with a ridiculous wing run for 25 straight hours. Lemons proves you don't need a seven-figure budget to chase a checkered flag. You need heart, a sense of humor, and a car that runs…mostly.
See you on the track. 🏁 —Ted
Want in? Wanna try something new this year? Teach and ol' dog new tricks? Expand your horizons! 😉
Lastly, a fun Recap from last year...
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At Thunderhill, we’ve been delivering a superior motorsports experience for over 30 years. Our track remains one of the finest, safest, and cleanest road courses in America. Beyond the track, our team continues to set the standard for world-class customer service, exceeding expectations at every turn.
