“Hold Your 30” and Other Hard Lessons Learned Driving a Chrysler Pacifica in the Trinitē Road Rally
The Trinitē Road Rally, in a 2027 Chrysler Pacifica, with none other than Nena Barlow? I was challenged, and I grew, in ways I never saw coming.
When I got the text message a couple of weeks ago inviting me to the Trinitē Road Rally, I was in the middle of getting my parents’ home ready to sell. It’s been a year-long process, and every step of the way felt like a challenge.
Every task I needed to do felt like something I had never done before. This included managing my dad’s collection of die-cast cars and model trains, my mom’s extensive library of books, figuring out what needed to be done to sell the house and how much to spend doing it, and myriad other issues cropping up at every turn.
I was bogged down, to say the least, and had almost gotten comfortable in the chronically uncertain circumstances. To say the opportunity to participate in the Trinitē Road Rally came at the right time is an understatement. It taught me I’m capable of doing hard things, even when I don’t think I can—among other things.
This story is 100% human-researched and written based on actual first-person knowledge, extensive experience and expertise on the subject of cars and trucks.
First, You Need the Right Teammate to Build Confidence
The Rally and selling my parents’ house gave me a lot to think about. The Trinitē Road Rally is a 6-day event with a driver and a navigator. One day of orientation and three days of driving bookended by travel was doable, I figured, as long as I had some quality help. I checked with my family to see what I could take off my plate, and if I couldn’t take it off my plate, could it wait? They all stepped up to ensure I got to embrace this opportunity fully. My friends Kristin Shaw and Jill Ciminillo, who were participating in a Lucid Air, were thrilled I’d be participating alongside them and helped encourage and lift me.
Before this, I had never done any motorsport event in my life. Nena Barlow was my teammate-to-be, so it made it even easier to say yes. Nena owns Barlow Adventures and is an off-roading master. She sets up off-roading courses, teaches off-roading, and provides guided off-road tours. I met Nena in person several months ago when we both hung out at a Jeep Recon event. We had a good time then and I was so excited to spend more time with her.
Then You Need a Worthy Car—For Us, the 2027 Chrysler Pacifica
The second reason is that Chrysler was going to give us a 2027 Chrysler Pacifica to drive for the Rally and I was thrilled to see how the minivan would perform on the roads of Northern California under these unconventional conditions. As you may know by now, the Chrysler Pacifica, one of our favorite minivans on this site, got a well-deserved makeover that changes the way it looks, but retains everything we loved about it. It’s no longer a PHEV, but it still has the stow ‘n go seating (which was great for our luggage and gear), but the V6 is strong.
With something spacious, comfortable, and easy to drive, along with a capable navigator, my team was complete!
What’s So Great About the Trinitē Road Rally, Anyway?
Though my teammate Nena is a seasoned Rebelle Rally podium-finisher and I was a total newbie, the Trinitē Road Rally was a first for both of us. Unlike the off-road, tech-free Rebelle, this rally was a three-day, app-assisted Time-Speed-Distance event on twisty pavement, culminating on the track at Sonoma Raceway—a high-speed prospect that made the prone-to-carsickness Nena a bit nervous. At the opening reception, founder Emily Miller (yes, the same founder as the Rebelle Rally) explained that the rally’s mission is to prove that great adventures don’t require custom rigs or supercars; you can find them in the vehicles you already own. Our 2027 Chrysler Pacifica was the perfect test subject for that theory.
We stayed at the Lodge at the Presidio, which quickly became a hub of pre-competition camaraderie. Over dinner with a group of fellow competitors—including a nurse, a gym owner, and a project manager named Alex with whom I shared a deep, unexpected personal connection—I got my first taste of this community. My friends Kristin and Jill Ciminillo had told me about the tight-knit bonds formed at these events, but I still underestimated how warmly I’d be welcomed. Landing in California to a text from my friend Lyn Woodward saying, “I’m so stoked you’re here,” felt like a giant, reassuring hug before the green flag dropped.
How Does it All Work?
A Time-Speed-Distance (TSD) rally is a game of precision, math, and timing. For each leg of the Trinitē Road Rally’s route, our road book provided visual diagrams and only two of the three critical pieces of information: distance, time, or speed. Our job was to calculate the missing factor and drive the route perfectly to hit each checkpoint on time. To help us stay on track, we relied on two apps—one to track our exact distance and another to monitor our elapsed time. Because the lowest score wins the Trinitē Road Rally, arriving early or late to a checkpoint meant racking up penalty points.
When we weren’t in a timed section, the competition shifted to Observation Challenges. We had to keep our eyes peeled for specific landmarks out the window—ranging from old barns and silos to a quirky surfing skeleton display outside a shop. Spotting an object required us to log our current odometer reading into a third app; missing one meant even more points added to our score. It was certainly a challenge for Nena and me, but once we got into a groove, it felt more like a game.
Day 1: Loading Up and Heading Out
On the morning of Day One, we gathered at the Golden Gate Club at the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge. The stunning backdrop was matched by the sheer variety of vehicles lining up to start—none of which required special modifications. The field ranged from a posh Bentley, an Aston Martin, and a Mercedes-Benz E-Class wagon to everyday favorites like a Toyota RAV4 and a couple of Subarus. There was even a Classic Car class featuring a Mustang, a Porsche, and a vintage Toyota Tercel. But our vehicle of choice drew plenty of its own fans, with fellow competitors yelling across the parking lot, “I love the minivan!”
I loved it too. It easily swallowed our tents, sleeping bags, and air mattresses for the upcoming night of camping. While the organizers offered to transport our gear, having everything on hand in the Pacifica was a huge plus.
Once we set off, the game was officially on: a demanding day spanning over 1,000 turns, 335 kilometers, and five TSD sections. I didn’t take a single photo; my eyes were glued to the speedometer and the road. The pressure was constant—you have to cross each checkpoint at the exact second (Richta actually tracks you to the hundredth of a second) before immediately focusing on the next, and when those sections are finished, the pivot to an observational challenge seems like it would be less stressful. But it’s not; if we thought we missed an observational checkpoint, we debated whether or not to go back, was it worth the effort. Our brains were always on. The Pacifica’s excellent visibility proved to be a major asset during the rare, untimed moments when we could actually catch our breath and take in the scenery. But those breaks were short-lived; this was a competition, and we had to stay focused.
I Learned About “Holding My Thirty”
– Credit: Sara Lacey
We often hear the advice to face discomfort and “do it anyway,” but putting it into practice is a different story. On day one, Nena started feeling truly awful from car sickness. Seeing her roll down the window, my instinct was to pull over, but she shouted, “Don’t pull over! Hold your 30!” No matter how cruddy she felt, we had to stay the course. She pushed through her discomfort, and after that, it became a running joke. That was my first major lesson of the Trinitē Road Rally: Keep going. We are more capable than we know, and discomfort doesn’t mean the task has to stop. There was zero quit in Nena, and as she pushed through, her stomach settled and we continued the journey. If we had stopped, I can’t imagine all the experiences we would have missed out on. Hold your 30, people.
The rest of the day was a crash course in rally logistics, particularly learning to manage our time and checkpoints via the Richta app. We were allotted a 19-minute time allowance each day, though figuring out how to strategically employ it to protect our score remained a puzzle we never quite solved.
That time allowance is meant to buffer the inevitable tests of patience—like getting stuck behind construction crews, hay trucks, and pavement-striping equipment. Even with the time cushion, I struggled to shake a constant sense of urgency, though reminding myself that we were the interlopers on these local roads helped me stay calm.
Interestingly, event founder Emily Miller had mentioned that teams could actually run this rally “by the seat of their pants” and still do reasonably well. If you don’t know the exact checkpoint time, you simply focus on maintaining the prescribed average speed, or vice versa. It made me wish the organizers would run a “control car” using only this seat-of-the-pants method, just to see where it would land in the Trinitē Road Rally’s final rankings.
We Ended the First Night in Style and Camaraderie
We finished Day One camping along the ocean cliffs at the Pacific Star Winery, winding down with a dinner of paella and wine. Walking the fence line against a backdrop of crashing waves and tide pools, I fell into conversation with Alex. We discovered a profound, unexpected connection: she had already navigated the same painful family milestones I was currently facing—the difficult life changes, the emotional decisions, and the heavy realization of becoming the adults in the room. As we sat on a giant bench facing the sea, other competitors joined us. Three days ago, we were strangers; now, we were a community. Later, I huddled inside an overland-outfitted Ineos Grenadier with its team—one member being the founder of the Jessi Combs Foundation and the other being a mother of four—sharing Dubai chocolate and trading stories while event founder Emily Miller popped in to check on everyone.
That collaborative spirit extended to the competition itself, with virtually zero gatekeeping. When Nena mentioned to another competitor at a rest stop that we were struggling to master the Rally Navigator app on the fly, she immediately showed us how to calibrate the odometer and adjust key settings. I’m not sure if this incredible culture of mutual support is a carryover from the Rebelle Rally or just inherent to the TSD rally world, but I might have to do a few more events just to find out.
Meanwhile, our Pacifica absolutely shone on the Pacific coastline. It effortlessly accommodated all our camping gear, sparing us from relying on the event’s support trucks, and its exceptionally comfortable seats were a saving grace after a grueling day on the road. Falling asleep in the chilly night air, cozied up in my sleeping bag, felt like the ultimate reward. Nena had even packed me a pair of air mattresses—giving my writer’s brain yet another perfect metaphor for all the ways she had supported me throughout the day.
Day 2: Nena and I Found our Footing With a Fresh Start
Day Two of the Trinitē Road Rally brought a renewed spirit. Waking up to the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs after a solid night’s sleep had a way of doing that, but we also felt far more settled with our rally tools. Because navigation still felt completely daunting to me, Nena agreed to stay in the navigator’s seat. It wasn’t my intent to torture her, but she was genuinely game to master the roadbook math—she was truly holding her thirty.
Before taking off, we grabbed fantastic coffee in Mendocino. The town was so impossibly charming that we found ourselves looking up local real estate on Zillow, establishing a running joke for the rest of the rally: every time we passed through a new town, we’d say out loud, “I could live here.”
From Mendocino, we headed inland onto some of the narrowest, twistiest roads I’ve ever driven. The scenery was incredible—at times shrinking to single-lane ridges where the land dropped off sharply on both sides, surrounded by rolling hills, a lot of cows, and exactly 1,085 curves. I worried the relentless turns would trigger Nena’s car sickness again, but luckily, her symptoms were far less severe than the day before.
The Second Day Brought Better Performance
Our scores on Day Two were vastly improved, a trend reflected across most of the field. Arriving at our glamping resort, River Electric, feeling a tangible sense of progress was an absolute win—and so was Nena telling me I was a good driver. The rally format puts just enough heat on you to maintain a steady clip, encouraging me to push both myself and the van. I was thrilled by how well the stock, all-wheel-drive Pacifica handled the unusual conditions. It stayed incredibly planted with surprisingly little body roll, allowing me to carry speed through corners where I’d normally brake, occasionally squealing the tires just for the thrill of it. The steering feedback was excellent, and the brakes were perfectly dialed in—responsive and firm, completely defying the squishy stereotype of a standard minivan.
The logistics, however, remained relentless. I quickly learned that I couldn’t look away from my watch for long; everything ran on a strict schedule, meaning a late arrival to a lunch or coffee stop translated to a rushed break or skipping it entirely. The more efficiently we drove, the more downtime we earned, but numbers were starting to float in my brain. I desperately needed a notepad just to track our next moves.
Day Two wrapped up with dinner by the pool and a driver’s meeting filled with lighthearted superlatives. The organizers handed out prizes based on road observations and team mishaps rather than rankings, including a nod to a team that managed to repair their car off-course and still make it back in time for dinner.
Our sights were now set on Day Three: Sonoma Raceway. Having been on this legendary track before, I was thrilled to tackle it again in the Trinitē. We knew the continued TSD format meant we wouldn’t be hitting triple-digit speeds, but as we were about to find out, that didn’t make the challenge any easier.
Then Came the Race Track
The next morning, we headed to Sonoma Raceway through a beautiful blanket of fog. I finally hopped into the passenger seat to navigate during the non-timed transit stage, eager to practice “speaking the language” and give Nena some well-deserved wheel time before we reached the track.
Once there, however, my lack of adrenaline caught up with me. I thought I was well-rested and finally had the format down, but mental fatigue led us to make error after error. While we had skimmed the digital event bulletins, we hadn’t studied them. Assuming I had scrolled to the end of a crucial document on my phone, I completely missed the entire final page outlining roughly where the checkpoints were located on the track.
Our brains were absolutely spongy after two days of intense competition and a day of tech inspection, but a day at the track is a win no matter what. Sonoma had cones marking the apexes and “gates” to guide us along the ideal driving line, and it was a massive thrill figuring out how to position the van through the circuit. In between the main sessions, we tackled the autocross course in the parking lot. Nena drove hard through the tight maze of cones, proving once again that the Pacifica could perform like a absolute champ.
My navigator fatigue struck one last time when I mistakenly instructed Nena to exit the track with nearly two laps left in her session. Hoping to make it up to her, I took the wheel for the final timed afternoon session, only to realize too late that it was our last competitive run of the day. Fortunately, we got plenty of untimed hot laps afterward. Nena drove most of them, save for one memorable lap where professional driver Matthew Johnson took the wheel. Watching what our stock minivan could do at high speeds under a pro’s control was the perfect, unexpected thrill to wrap up our Trinitē adventure.
We Didn’t Get a Trophy, But We Won in a Different Way
As the track sessions wrapped, everyone filtered back into the garages to pack up before heading to the final dinner and awards ceremony. Sitting there, I could barely wrap my mind around the fact that our journey was over. While Nena and I didn’t make the podium this year, it was an absolute joy to cheer on the people I’d bonded with—including Teralin and Mandy, who took first in their class, and my friend Lyn and her partner Sedona, who clinched the top spot in the Classic Car division. Failing to place didn’t dampen the experience; it just gave me a goal to come back, try again, and put everything I learned to work.
In the quiet moments after the awards, I found myself reflecting on the past year. Managing my parents’ difficult transition out of their home had meant living with a constant, heavy uncertainty, never knowing what the next moment would bring. As it turned out, navigating that emotional landscape was the ultimate training ground for an inaugural road rally where none of us knew exactly what to expect.
I thought a lot about Emily Miller’s opening speech regarding the trinity of Time, Speed, and Distance, and how rarely we control all the variables in our own lives. The Trinitē Road Rally reminded me that none of us know how much time we have left, or how far our journeys will take us. On a good day, the only variable we can truly control is the speed at which we operate. When you are moving along at a good clip, it’s vital to pause and appreciate it.
And when things inevitably slow down, get messy, or feel dark? Assemble your team, trust your people, and hold your thirty.
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