
Rally driver and pro action sports athlete Travis Pastrana is 41 years old. He has undergone 40 surgeries in his lifetime. "As long as the number of operations is less than my age, we’re good," he joked to a crowd assembled at the Goodwood Festival of Speed’s rally stage.
Pastrana is incredibly good-natured about the fact that he’s been patched up and put back together enough times to make Humpty Dumpty blush. His most recent major injury happened during a 2022 Gymkhana shoot, in which he shattered his pelvis during a failed base jump attempt. The recovery was grueling, but Pastrana was back in a race car—albeit catheterized—just two months later.
"I’ve never seen [the risk of] injury as a reason not to do something," he mused to the crowd.


Rally driving is an extreme juxtaposition of order and chaos. On the one hand, you’re hurtling through the woods on loose gravel, whipping by trees mere inches away. On the other hand, an incredibly detailed, driver-specific set of pace notes gives exact instructions on upcoming corners, braking zones, and road surfaces. Teams transiting between stages are expected to arrive precisely on time—show up a minute early, and you’re penalized a minute.
Rhianon Gelsomino, Pastrana’s co-driver, is responsible for maintaining that order. The affable Australian explains the pace note system she and Pastrana share, which ranges from six for a flat-out corner to a one for a full-lock hairpin.
We recorded Gelsomino’s full explanation, which you can watch below:
At the heart of the driver and co-driver's relationship is a deep-seated mutual trust. There has to be—each is responsible for the other’s safety and success.
"People ask me what it’s like hanging out with Travis," Gelsomino tells us in the shade of Subaru’s paddock tent at the Goodwood stage. "At this point, he’s like a little brother."
Gelsomino’s husband, Alex, is a professional co-driver who raced with Ken Block, while her actual little brother, Brendan Reeves, is a professional rally driver back in Australia. Safe to say this is a talented family.

As I don a Word Rally Blue racing suit over my clothes and prepare to step into the passenger seat of Pastrana’s Vermont SportsCar-built Subaru WRX ARA25 rally car, I ask Gelsomino’s advice. I’m the type of person who wears acupressure bands and takes Dramamine before flights, so rally co-driving is a bit out of my comfort zone.
"Just look around," she tells me. "Look through the corners, and if you can, watch Travis’s hands and feet."
It’s easily 100 degrees inside the car, and ventilation is minimal. As I sweat through my racing suit, Pastrana is cool, calm, and collected—but not lacking an edge. Goodwood’s rally stage is a celebration rather than a competition, but the runs are timed. "Driving is fun, but racing is better," he says as we line up for our run. I ask him how many times he’s run the stage so far today. "Seven … or eight?"
Pastrana puts the Subaru’s sequential transmission into gear with a clunk, revs the boxer engine up, and dumps the clutch. The next two and a half minutes will be etched into my memory until the day I die.

As Pastrana chucks the rally car into the first corner—a left five, if I had to guess—the back end steps loose. Before I can think, he catches it and we’re in a perfectly controlled four-wheel drift, setting up for the next turn.
The dirt-strewn limestone road feels barely wide enough for our Subaru. "This is a big car for this stage," Pastrana admits, but the size never catches him out. In every corner, he anticipates, sets up, and executes, pivoting the WRX around its axis and the apex without drama.
The optimal line changes throughout the day, he explains, as cars on the stage move dirt around, exposing slick rock underneath. I steal glances at his hands and feet, looking for frenzied inputs, but I don’t find any—just measured precision. I hold up my end of the bargain, tapping the floor-mounted horn button for spectators as we fly past them sideways.
We’re finally on a straightaway, the Subaru’s thrumming engine punching me back in my seat. We come over a crest and catch some air—less than a second that feels like 30. Then we’re back in the pits. I’m stripping off my sweat-soaked race suit, shaking.

"How was it?" I struggled for words. Incredible, inspiring, and strangely calm. I’ve been lucky enough to ride right seat with seriously talented drivers in all manner of performance cars, but nothing comes close to a professional rally driver in his competition-grade car. Hell, if Pastrana had been driving a stock Crosstrek, I still would’ve been awestruck.
The best way I can describe it is like flying in the eye of the storm: a micro-cell of calm amid what should be total chaos. There’s an intense focus at play here, but there’s something else, too.
"In motocross, you have to block it all out," Pastrana explained the next day over lunch. With rally racing, he had to retrain himself to listen, dialing back the tunnel vision to focus on what his co-driver was saying. It’s a totally committed form of teamwork.

I could’ve spent all weekend at Goodwood’s rally stage watching vintage Audi Quattros and Lancia Delta Integrales tear through the dirt. If you have the opportunity to make it to one of ARA’s remaining National Championship, Super Regional, or Regional events, I highly recommend it.
Rally may not be the most popular form of motorsport in the US, but it just might be the most beautiful.






