IN A starting line-up that comprised very experienced rally drivers from around the world - many of them having done the daunting Paris-Dakar, and a couple even having won it - Team Asia Pacific comprising Singaporean businessman and Porsche owner Eddie Keng and myself was truly the most amateur entry.
After all, the most either of us had done prior to this was a couple of overland drives. Not a single rally.
Therefore, not much was expected from us. In fact, managing director of Porsche Asia Pacific Christer Ekberg's final words of advice to us at the start line in Moscow were "stay safe and get to the finish line".
Unfortunately, we didn't manage to obey "team orders", thanks to a couple of rookie mistakes.
Buoyed by a mid-field placing after the first Special Stage in Russia, we launched into the second one with gusto.
A little too much, as it turned out. Having successfully crossed the first patch of deep water, we neglected to check the depth of the second one (normally done by the co-driver on foot), went in too fast and ended up stuck in waist-deep water.
To make matters worse, I opened the door to get out and try and get a tow, allowing water to flood into the cabin. The window was the right way out, I was told later.
By the time our car was towed out by the Japanese team - despite being competitors, all teams lent each other a helping hand whenever they could - the damage had been done. The water had got to the crucial electronics under the seats of the Cayenne S Transsyberia and the traction control went haywire.
Much diligent work by the Porsche mechanics and some amusing photo opportunities later - us scooping water out of the car - we were on our way again.
But the car was never the same. It kept flashing warning messages on the dashboard, and sometimes refused to go into the low-range mode that provides better drive in very slippery conditions.
We eventually got the electronic parts replaced during the rest day and were playing catch-up when disaster struck.
Racing through the third Special Stage in Mongolia, we were hitting every waypoint plotted on the GPS route (crucial, since some of them are checkpoints where your rally card needs to be stamped by the marshalls to avoid penalty points) and had just overtaken two cars in a twisty, hilly section when an ultra tight right-hand bend caught us out.
With huge rocks larger than the car on the right and a hard-to-spot ditch suddenly appearing in the swirling dust on the left, even Mr Keng's superb reflexes couldn't prevent the car from sliding into the ditch.
The resulting thud on the undercarriage sounded ominous, and as we stepped out to survey the damage, our hearts sank. Oil was pouring out from under the car.
After waiting five hours in the dry mid-day 38 deg-plus heat of the desert - don't know which was worse, the searing sun or the fear that we would not get any help - we managed to get a tow back to the night's camp at Bayankhor.
Desperate to continue the rally, we pleaded with the Porsche maintenance crew to fix our oil sump, but they ran out of time and handed us the bad news - our rally was over.
The next day, our car was one of two Cayennes - the oil problem had caught out one of the Russian teams too - to be loaded on a truck for transportation to Ulaan Batar.
And we joined four other car-less drivers in a small minivan for a bone-jolting spine-damaging 14-hour drive to the same destination.
I still haven't figured out which was more excruciating: the bus ride or missing out on the finish line.
After all, we had toughed it out through most of the hard stuff. We had done almost 6,500 of the 7,100km. We had just two days left to survive.
