EFF blames poor policies for economic crisis, infrastructure collapseEverything seemed to be going right for Christopher Polvoorde’s 2024 outing at the Baja 1000. The Optima Batteries driver had partnered with Red Bull’s Bryce Menzies — one of Baja’s most formidable competitors, and a driver that Polvoorde adored growing up. The 24-year-old racer had qualified the Menzies truck on pole position, five full seconds ahead of the next-fastest car. “Favorites” would be an understatement. But then, early on race day morning: Disaster. At race mile 27 of 864, the Polvoorde/Menzies trophy truck ground to a halt. A power steering failure ended their day before it even had a chance to begin. But for a first-time attendee of the iconic off-road race, the misfortune of the driver I’d flown to Ensenada, Mexico to shadow turned out to give me a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience the real Baja 1000. In 1962, Honda wanted to put its upcoming CL72 Scrambler motorcycle through its paces. In an era before motocross, sporty off-road aficionados took part in scrambles , a rough-and-tumble form of racing that involved a few laps around a dirt circuit that might feature a jump or two. To ensure its newest two-wheeler was scramble ready, Honda needed to subject the bike to a worthy trial. So, Jack McCormack and Walt Fulton of Honda America went to the most qualified person they knew: Bud Ekins. The California-based Ekins had become a legend in the off-road racing world; sweetening the deal, he was also a Honda dealer. If anyone would know a great route for the Scrambler, it would be Ekins. Ekins suggested Federal Highway 1, a 950-mile sliver of roughly defined road in Baja California stretching from Tijuana to La Paz. Only some of the route was paved; a majority of it would require the CL72 Scrambler — and its rider — to conquer mountain passes, rock-strewn outcrops, dry lake beds, dunes of silt, and more sand than any single person would need in a lifetime. If the bike could come out on the other side unscathed, then it’d be a guaranteed hit amongst the off-road racing crowd. Ekins’ brother Dave joined Billy Robertson Jr., the son of a Southern California Honda dealer, for the near thousand-mile journey. On March 22, 1962, the men kicked off what would become a 39-hour, 56-minute ride into the history books. Enthusiast press was mesmerized. Honda received so much publicity for that early run that Meyers Manx announced that one of its buggies would take on the challenge, followed by countless other speed seekers. Before long, it became clear that Baja was popular, and that the race needed official sanctioning if it were to continue. Starting off as the Mexican 1000 in 1967, the event was transformed into the Baja 1000 after being scooped up by the Mexican government, which soon hired the SCORE International sanctioning body run by legend Mickey Thompson in 1973. Over the years, the course has changed, varying in both overall distance and in style. So too have the vehicles. This year, there were almost 50 different classes of vehicle ranging motorcycles fielded by riders of 60 years of age, to stock Volkswagen buggies, to production pickup trucks. But the top-level class at the Baja 1000 is known as Trophy Truck (TT) Unlimited, which is basically an open-production, off-road class of pickup truck racing that allows for a huge amount of regulatory freedom, so long as you meet some basic safety standards. This is where we meet our protagonist, 24-year-old Christopher Polvoorde. Despite being born in the self-described “racing mecca” of Southern California, Polvoorde didn’t grow up in a racing family — which is a rarity in the racing world. “Most of these families are in their third, fourth, fifth generation,” Polvoorde told PlanetF1.com. “We’re literally fresh as can be.” He got his start in off-road go-karting back in 2012, quickly progressing up the ranks to his first professional racing championship in 2019, the Lucas Oil Midwest Short Course League, before getting interested in desert racing. “I’m a very outdoorsy person. I’m always outside, so I think the Baja fits my personality,” he said. “But I’m also a very, like, Type-2 fun person, where I go and hike a mountain and then nearly die. Then I come home, and I’m like ‘Oh, that was fun!’ “That’s my mentality. I think Baja fits perfectly — spending eight hours in a car where half of the time, it’s like, ‘Why am I doing this?'” His passion for racing stemmed from a kart his father received in exchange for space to rent. Polvoorde started out toying around in the backyard before deciding to test his mettle against other kids his age. It didn’t go well. In his first races, Polvoorde was a regular at the very rear of the field — but that simply inspired him to put his head down and train hard to see if he couldn’t improve. With self-discipline and assistance from his family, Polvoorde found that winning wasn’t quite as hard as it looked. At the Baja 1000, as with at almost every other race Polvoorde contests, his family was out in full force to support him. His parents turn up to support their son, shadowing his races in a helicopter piloted by his brother-in-law, who by day is a sheriff’s deputy that follows high-profile police chases from the air. “I think [my racing] became a family affair because I’m so young,” he said. “I grew up with them coming to the track with me — and when I started to make it a career, they were forced to chaperone me, basically. “Now I’ve gotten to a point where I can be on my own, but they like to be part of it.” Speaking to Polvoorde in the middle of the desert, I could understand the appeal. Their son was preparing to conquer hundreds of miles of desert at an event where spectators are known to assemble ‘booby traps’ in hopes of seeing a competitor go hurtling into the air. Having a birds’ eye view from the helicopter would not only allow them to spectate at every turn, but to be instantly available in the event of an emergency. At mile 27 of 864, Christopher Polvoorde’s trophy truck came to a halt. But first, let’s back up. The night before the race, I was invited to something I came to affectionately call the “Menzies compound.” The 37-year-old Bryce Menzies is an icon of the off-road racing world, and his Red Bull sponsorship has launched him to stratospheric heights. To support his career in off-road racing, his family acquired a former hotel in Baja California to serve as base camp; after all, pre-running for the 1000 often kicks off over a month in advance of the actual race, with drivers and riders trying to familiarize themselves with the ever-changing conditions of the course. Having a local headquarters seemed smart. But I didn’t quite realize quite how impressive the whole affair was. Yes, the Menzies family had acquired a hotel, complete with a full-service kitchen, bar, and lounge area. But they’d also erected a state-of-the-art garage and brought in a fleet of chase trucks bedded down with all the supplies a person could need out in the desert. I had spoken to Polvoorde about the extreme logistics involved in organizing an event; he told me that he usually has around 120 people in Baja to support him, with around 30 chase trucks, two helicopters, and two small planes to facilitate travel and repairs. The sheer size of the operation, though, didn’t quite sink in until I arrived at the compound, where the Menzies/Polvoorde teams would be combing over route details, chase truck locations, and pit crew responsibilities before a hearty meal and an early bedtime. There, a fleet of heavy-duty pickup trucks lined the plaza inside the compound, while each member of the crew flipped through a massive ring binder filled with detailed maps, truck information, emergency protocol, and so much more. Chase trucks would be stationed at roughly 30 locations around the course, and many would be driving from one station to the next in order to maximize efficiency. After the debrief, I had a chance to head to the Menzies’ garage, where I laid eyes on the state-of-the-art trophy truck tucked safely away before its big day in the desert. An Optima engineer walked me around the truck, pointing out its slate of dashboard screens, its emergency equipment, and its powerful suspension. It was like what I’d expect to happen if a Formula 1 team took over operations at Baja. In that squeaky-clean garage, it was easy to imagine Menzies and Polvoorde cruising comfortably to a win. That didn’t happen. On race day morning, I joined the Optima crew at the ceremonial start line in Ensenada to wave Polvoorde off on his second Trophy Truck outing at the Baja 1000. We dipped across the street during the gap between car releases to climb into a chase truck of our very own. We had a few hours’ drive ahead of us to make it to the first pit stop, and it was essential to get on the road as quickly as possible. We flipped on the Starlink transponder in the truck and tuned into the official Baja 1000 livestream on YouTube, but we’d barely made a dent into our drive when we spotted something strange: Polvoorde’s truck had come to a stop. At long-distance off-road races like the 1000, it’s next to impossible to have your finger on the pulse of every happening the same way you can in closed-course racing. All we could tell was that the truck had suddenly just stopped . We continued a few more minutes in the chase trucks before finding somewhere to pull over ourselves. If the damage was minor, we could easily head on our way. If it was terminal, we could turn back to Ensenada. We didn’t know — and the race crew itself seemed just as perplexed over the radio. We waited, anxiously, as the nearest chase truck rushed out to the scene — but after an hour, the problem was determined to be fatal. Polvoorde retired from the 2024 Baja 1000 before completing 30 miles. 👉 Baja 1000: How innovative WiFi solutions are turning off-road racing into Formula 1 👉 Baja 1000: Five F1 drivers to tackle motorsport’s most dangerous race With Christopher Poolverde out of the race, the Optima team and I turned back to Ensenada with heavier hearts than we’d had that morning. We’d have some lunch, we decided, and rally that evening to watch the motorcycles finish their race. Then we’d talk about plans for an early departure the following morning. But that didn’t mean we tuned out. Instead, the Optima crew had the livestream of the Baja 1000 turned on as we drove back, and I was able to experience a different side to Baja — one I likely wouldn’t have noticed had I been invested in a single team. I learned about the Ironman competitors, the class entirely dedicated to drivers and riders who contest the full event alone. Nothing but manpower and machine, a particularly arduous task for the bike riders who will travel hundreds of miles with nothing but what they could carry on their back. I learned about the rider of the 279X, David Hunter, who crossed the Baja 1000 finish line with a Starlink WiFi panel strapped to his helmet. Why? Because he’d also strapped his cell phone to his chest, with his mom on Facetime, so that she could keep tabs on her son and ensure his safety. I learned of David Guerrant, who Ironmanned an old Triumph motorcycle, carrying with him nothing but a dream, a backpack, and only the most rudimentary safety equipment possible. I learned that Terrible Herbst Motorsport had mastered the art of the “double stack,” bringing both its trophy trucks into a pit for tire changes back-to-back — a massively arduous task for the sparse crews working with tires that could equal their body weight. I learned of 17-year-old Eva Star, who finished all four of SCORE International’s off-road events in the UTV class this year, and of Kristen and Wayne Matlock, a married couple who have regularly competed against one another in big events like the Baja. I watched drivers control the throttle via a wire with one hand, steering their trophy truck at high speed with the other. I watched flips and crashes. I saw co-drivers dig trophy trucks out of the silt, and moto riders careening through a lightless desert, balancing precariously on two wheels. I saw the way multi-million dollar operations unfurl with military precision, transforming hotels into a hub for race operations, deploying fleets of specially-designed chase trucks to strategic positions all around the course, spending hours every day for weeks learning the nuance of the changing desert. I also saw the homebuilt operations: The wives and children serving as a pit crew for their father; the friends working long hours just to achieve the goal they’d been dreaming about; the competitors who turned up with next to nothing, relying on the goodwill of the locals to see them through. The whole of the human condition was on display at the Baja 1000, and it was truly stunning to witness. Late on Saturday night, I joined the disheartened Optima Batteries crew at the bar of our hotel for a drink before we set off to the ceremonial finish line; the motorcycles were sure to be crossing the finish line at any moment, and if we couldn’t see the Optima trophy truck take the finish, we could at least cheer on the championship winners. Not long after, Christopher Poolvorde arrived in the bar. It had been hours since his trophy truck broke down, but he was still decked out in his race suit. He made his way from table to table, shaking hands and swapping platitudes with the people who had joined him for a desert adventure cut far too short. His disappointment didn’t stop him from making his way over to me, taking a moment to thank me for coming and to hope I’d had a good time, despite the early end. I had. He’d been up in his room trying to film a quick video for Instagram to sum up the experience, but he found himself coming up short. “I keep trying to come up with something to say, but it all sounds kind of ridiculous,” he told me. We quickly debriefed on the day. Per Polvoorde, a minor $50 part in the drivetrain had failed, but it was enough to bring their race to a sudden halt. There would have been no way to make repairs on the course. The failure was terminal. But Polvoorde somehow managed to be upbeat. “The big thing is that no one got hurt,” he said, relaying how his trophy truck nearly veered into an easy-up tent full of fans during the drivetrain failure. “I’m here in one piece, and aside from that part, the truck’s fine.” Not long after, Polvoorde disappeared back into the bowels of the hotel, where he finally filmed and posted a quick video for social media. I joined the Optima crew at the ceremonial finish, watching moto riders celebrate a job well done in the sprinkling rain. I’d gone into the Baja 1000 week with a strong sense of the story I wanted to tell — one about a young competitor teaming up with driver he idolized as a child, about the grit and determination it takes to ignore your better sense and careen through the desert at full speed in pursuit of glory. However, when only one person can win a race, a motorsport story is more likely to center around frustration, disappointment, and arrested desire. At an event like the Baja 1000, where hundreds of miles of unpredictable desert separate you from the finish line, the stakes are even higher. But a ‘win’ doesn’t have to mean a victory — certainly not at Baja. A win can be the simple act of finishing, or of turning up in the first place. A win can look like David Hunter, giving his mom the Facetime call of a lifetime. Or it can look like Christopher Polvoorde taking time to thank each and every member of his crew, to be grateful for the safety of the spectators, before finding the words to share with his fans. Full disclosure: Optima Batteries paid for my travel, lodging, and meals so that I could attend the Baja 1000. All opinions, thoughts, and perceptions are my own. Read next: World Destructors’ Championship: The complete F1 2024 crash damage standings
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Home | EFF blames poor policies for economic crisis, infrastructure collapse The Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) has called for a commission of inquiry into load-shedding, with party leader Julius Malema alleging economic sabotage when there were attempts to shut down coal-fired power stations. Speaking at the EFF’s Elective Conference in Johannesburg on Friday, Malema emphasises the need for a state-led policy to expand Eskom’s generation capacity, reverse its privatisation, and invest in building more coal-fired power stations. ‘Collapsing infrastructure’ Malema has blamed poor policy choices for South Africa’s ongoing economic crisis. He cites challenges such as low economic growth, the electricity crisis, failing logistics, and collapsing infrastructure. The EFF leader argues that weak policies over the past 15 years have led to stagnant growth, high unemployment—particularly among women and youth—and a decline in public investment, resulting in the breakdown of critical services and the economy. “In the past 15 years, we have witnessed a 24% decline in public investment by the central government and public corporations. This decline in public investment has directly contributed to the collapse of the country’s infrastructure, critical services and economy. It is the decline that has led to the collapse of electricity generation capacity, the collapse of logistics and transport networks, the collapse of water infrastructure, the collapse of telecommunications services.” The EFF says while it’s happy with the current management at Eskom turning the institution around, it remains concerned about the energy policy direction of the country. “We call on a commission of inquiry into the load shedding that our people were subjected to for more than a decade while people were stealing money by burning oil and benefitting from IPPs. We need to know who the culprits were behind the economic sabotage,” Malema adds. The EFF says the country experienced economic sabotage when there was an attempt to close down power stations under the notion that their lifespan was ending. EFF Elective Conference – EFF calls for inquiry into load shedding: SABC © 2024Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra's public address today, outlining her government's achievements over the past three months, appears to be a move to shore up a faltering communication strategy after a series of recent missteps. The question is whether such a one-way presentation will achieve its purpose. The national briefing, entitled "2025 Empowering Thais: A Real Possibility", is promoted as a major event, to be attended by around 500 high-level officials including cabinet ministers, heads of government agencies and armed forces leaders. It will also be broadcast live on the state-run NBT2HD TV and its social media channels. If this all sounds familiar, it probably is. In September, during her policy address to parliament, Ms Paetongtarn laid out a 10-point plan to "empower" Thais. The plan focuses on creating economic opportunities and tackling challenges, including soaring household debt, the narcotics crisis, technological disruption, and an ageing population. The proposed initiatives include comprehensive debt restructuring and measures to reduce energy prices and utility fees. The PM also pledged to promote precision agriculture and food technology to increase farmers' incomes, supporting the government's "Thai Kitchen to the World" vision. Additionally, she vowed to eradicate drugs and combat online crime, especially the growing menace of call-centre scams. Ms Paetongtarn can keep reciting these plans and showcasing what she believes to be her government's achievements, but such self-promotion is unlikely to increase public confidence in her administration. A more detailed and multi-pronged communication strategy is needed to keep the public informed and engaged about what the government is doing and the obstacles it faces. The current reactive approach -- where the PM and ministers merely respond to questions of the day -- has failed to provide a comprehensive picture of the government's performance. Worse still, it has yet to engage the public meaningfully beyond fuelling political debates and deepening divisions. Recent communication controversies -- such as the PM's remark about her husband being a Southerner when questioned about the Southern floods or the perceived policy inconsistency regarding a VAT hike -- are glaring examples of the government's incoherent communication strategy. A more professional communication team would have prepared how to handle such a crucial and sensitive issue as the VAT hike before announcing it to the public -- if the issue is indeed under consideration. The spectacle of the finance minister floating the VAT hike idea only to have the PM dismiss it shortly afterwards is embarrassing and raises doubts about the administration's competence and coordination. The same is true of the PM's reply about her personal life when asked about the flooding disaster in the South. If her communication team were doing its job correctly, the press should have received regular, timely, and relevant updates about the flooding and other important issues, thus eliminating the need for ambush questions. Ultimately, Ms Paetongtarn's resorting to the TV address for policy updates underscores how her team is out of step with the demands of modern government communication. The PM needs to overhaul her communication team to stay relevant and effective in fostering public understanding of the government's work.
( MENAFN - GlobeNewsWire - Nasdaq) NEW YORK, Dec. 14, 2024 (GLOBE NEWSWIRE) -- WHY: Rosen Law Firm, a global investor rights law firm, reminds purchasers of securities of WM Technology, Inc. (NASDAQ: MAPS) between May 25, 2021, and September 24, 2024, both dates inclusive (the“Class Period”), of the important December 16, 2024 lead plaintiff deadline in the securities class action first filed by the Firm. SO WHAT: If you purchased WM technology securities during the Class Period you may be entitled to compensation without payment of any out of pocket fees or costs through a contingency fee arrangement. WHAT TO DO NEXT: To join the WM Technology class action, go to or call Phillip Kim, Esq. toll-free at 866-767-3653 or email ... for information on the class action. A class action lawsuit has already been filed. If you wish to serve as lead plaintiff, you must move the Court no later than December 16, 2024 . A lead plaintiff is a representative party acting on behalf of other class members in directing the litigation. WHY ROSEN LAW: We encourage investors to select qualified counsel with a track record of success in leadership roles. Often, firms issuing notices do not have comparable experience, resources, or any meaningful peer recognition. Many of these firms do not actually litigate securities class actions, but are merely middlemen that refer clients or partner with law firms that actually litigate the cases. Be wise in selecting counsel. The Rosen Law Firm represents investors throughout the globe, concentrating its practice in securities class actions and shareholder derivative litigation. Rosen Law Firm achieved the largest ever securities class action settlement against a Chinese Company at the time. Rosen Law Firm was Ranked No. 1 by ISS Securities Class Action Services for number of securities class action settlements in 2017. The firm has been ranked in the top 4 each year since 2013 and has recovered hundreds of millions of dollars for investors. In 2019 alone the firm secured over $438 million for investors. In 2020, founding partner Laurence Rosen was named by law360 as a Titan of Plaintiffs' Bar. Many of the firm's attorneys have been recognized by Lawdragon and Super Lawyers. DETAILS OF THE CASE: According to the lawsuit, defendants throughout the Class Period made false and/or misleading statements and/or failed to disclose, among other things, that: (1) WM Technology's monthly average user metrics (“MAUs”) were severely inflated for years; and (2) as a result, defendants' statements about its business, operations, and prospects, were materially false and misleading and/or lacked a reasonable basis at all relevant times. When the true details entered the market, the lawsuit claims that investors suffered damages. To join the WM Technology class action, go or call Phillip Kim, Esq. toll-free at 866-767-3653 or email ... for information on the class action. No Class Has Been Certified. Until a class is certified, you are not represented by counsel unless you retain one. You may select counsel of your choice. You may also remain an absent class member and do nothing at this point. An investor's ability to share in any potential future recovery is not dependent upon serving as lead plaintiff. Follow us for updates on LinkedIn: or on Twitter: or on Facebook: . Attorney Advertising. Prior results do not guarantee a similar outcome. Contact Information: Laurence Rosen, Esq. Phillip Kim, Esq. The Rosen Law Firm, P.A. 275 Madison Avenue, 40th Floor New York, NY 10016 Tel: (212) 686-1060 Toll Free: (866) 767-3653 Fax: (212) 202-3827 ... MENAFN14122024004107003653ID1108993389 Legal Disclaimer: MENAFN provides the information “as is” without warranty of any kind. We do not accept any responsibility or liability for the accuracy, content, images, videos, licenses, completeness, legality, or reliability of the information contained in this article. If you have any complaints or copyright issues related to this article, kindly contact the provider above.
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