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The Bonneville Waltz
By Wes Orloff
The sound of snapping plastic was sickening.
I froze in shock, my arm half extended in space to give a
handshake to Bonneville Chief starter Jim Jensen as we sat
on the start line of the 3 mile short course. I had unintentionally
caught the edge of the windscreen of the partially streamlined
Buell Firebolt I was riding, causing the back 3 inches to
nearly crack off. Not exactly what you would call a confidence
booster just prior to hurtling nearly 3 miles a minute across
a dry lakebed. After a short moment of jaw dropping silence,
team JDees Performance members Jesse Dees and Dan Hurda quickly
jumped into action and used duct tape along the inside of
the windscreen to make an effective, if not aesthetically
pleasing, fix. 4 minutes later, cracked windscreen and all,
Team JDees Performance claimed their 5th landspeed record
of the week.
Bonneville. The name of the place demands a
certain reverence, just as Pikes Peak, Indianapolis, and Daytona.
Classic venues of speed rich and colorful with history. Paging
through assorted books documenting Bonneville had burned the
vision of the brilliant white salt and rugged mountains on
the horizon into my conscious. Now suddenly viewed from the
front seat of a rented box van, those images were slowly melded
into reality. As sacrilegious as it seemed, my dream of attempting
a land speed record at Bonneville was about to come true…
The story started 2 years ago when I heard about
a group of guys from work who had gone out to Bonneville with
two Buell Blasts and set some very impressive land speed records.
I had always had a passing interest in Bonneville and secretly
wondered what it would be like to attempt something like that.
For the next year I slowly worked my way into the good graces
of the team, shamelessly plugging suggested fiberglass and
bodywork skills acquired from years of hydroplane and motorcycle
road racing. It just so happened the team had big plans for
the future and I was lucky enough to get the opportunity to
become involved.
As I was to soon find out, unlike road racing,
landspeed racing is very much a team sport. Our team, collectively
known as JDees Performance, had some definite talent when
it came to landspeed racing. Kevin Kedinger, Jesse Dees, and
Bill Pari, were all part of the successful original team that
set records with the Buell Blasts. Dan Hurda and myself were
the new meat. The whole team has a very strong motorcycle
engineering background (which would prove to be critical strength
over the speed week). We were also lucky enough to be involved
with master fiberglass fabricator/artist Mick Snead, Graphics
designer Dan Alberti, and engine builder Steve Krause.
For the 2003 Speedweek attempt, the team would
be running 4 bikes. 2 each in the production class, which
required a completely ‘as produced’ vehicle which
was cosmetically identical to its showroom brethren, and 2
in the modified partial streamlined class, which allowed custom
streamlining (as long as the rider was visible from a side
view) and more extensive engine modifications. Our production
Buell Blast was freshened and incorporated some small changes
based on lessons learned during the prior attempt, but was
pretty much as it was stored 2 years ago. The Modified Partial
Streamline (MPS) Blast on the other hand had received some
radical changes: extended swingarm, 250Grand prix styled fairings,
and an air shifter just to name a few. A production Buell
XB9R Firebolt was assembled for the attempt as well. And finally,
the bike I was slated to ride, a modified partially streamlined
Buell XB9R Firebolt with Buell RR1000 styled bodywork expertly
crafted by Mick to fit an XB-low chassis, and a highly tuned
XB984cc engine. Our engine dyno numbers and calculated drag
numbers looked promising, instilling a quiet confidence within
the team. Before we knew it, it was August and we were packing
Jesse’s truck and trailer for the long drive out west.
Jesse took one for the team and drove solo to
Bonneville, a mere 1400 mile jaunt from our Milwaukee home
base, with a snowmobile trailer loaded to the gills full of
bikes and support equipment. Kevin and I flew out early to
pick up a rental box truck in Salt Lake City that would become
our racebike hauler to try and minimize exposing Jesse’s
personal vehicle to the corrosive salt, while Bill and Dan
would meet us a couple of days later.
My first exposure to the salt flats was impressive.
The dry lakebed runs in a north /south direction just east
of a mountain range and is immense. The surface is a brilliant,
blinding white, and if not for the 100 degree temperature,
one would swear they were standing on an immense frozen lake.
The surface of the salt was the biggest surprise for me. In
my mind I was expecting a solid cement like surface…instead
the surface was the consistency of hard packed sand! I was
beginning to question the sanity of riding a nearly slick
tire built-to-the-hilt Buell across a surface that was essentially
the equivalent of a dirt road. One of the other unique things
about the surface was that as the sun came up, moisture was
wicked up through the salt. Despite the 100+ degree temperatures,
the salt surface was cool to the touch. In a bit of irony,
this meant the salt was driest and hardest packed in the very
early morning, and became moist and sticky (and slow) as the
sun rose. I inadvertently found that if one would happen to
sit down on the surface in the heat of the day, one’s
shorts would quickly become soaking wet. Rookie mistake #1…
It also became quickly apparent that you were going to get
salt everywhere. Dry, arid salt dust penetrated everything,
and you could constantly taste it on your lips and feel it
in your eyes. I did have the foresight to lather up with sunscreen,
re-enforced by an urban salt myth about a shorts-wearing gentleman
who neglected to factor in the sun’s reflection from
the brilliant white salt surface and suffered, shall we say,
some discomfort in area’s not normally exposed to UV
rays. One area I did neglect were my lips, which resembled
the epidermis of an iguana by the end of the week (Rookie
mistake #2).
The first day of the event was a madhouse, and
as a rookie, I ended up following the rest of my team around
who had experienced this all before. There were over 400 entries
this year! A large driver’s meeting was held, followed
by a rookie orientation where we took a trip down the actual
courses we would be running on. There were two courses laid
out on the salt: a 3 mile ‘short course’ for vehicles
traveling at 175mph and under, and a 5 mile course for vehicles
over 175mph. The course itself was fairly well groomed with
drag blades, but still disconcertingly loose. (in my mind…).
Two black lines marked the outer boundaries of the track,
maybe 100 yards apart. Every mile, there were bright orange
barrels/flags to mark your progress on the course. The immensity
of the place by itself was impressive. It was easy to see
how participants had become lost out on the lakebed…
As the rookie orientation ended, there was a
mad dash by the participants for the staging lanes, which
looked like scene out of a mad max movie. All race vehicles
at the event had to be towed per the rules by another vehicle.
There was everything from flat head Ford streamliners to 50
foot long diesel trucks to Datsun B210’s being pulled
out on the course 15 to 20 wide, all vying for a precious
spot in the staging lane lines. It looked like the automotive
equivalent to the California gold rush…and rightfully
so, as a good spot in line was nearly as precious as gold,
with line waits as long as 3 hours at a time. We couldn’t
get more than 2 runs a day for the first three days of the
event! On the positive side, all the time in line allowed
us to talk with the other competitors and form some binding
friendships. It seemed that everyone was excited to be there
and more than willing to help out a fellow competitor in need.
It was easy to see why the landspeed racing community is such
a tightly knit family. As much fun as the racing atmosphere
was line, the real fun started once you got to the line…
Team JDees performance had a busy, but rewarding
week. Kevin was knocking back record after record on the proven
Buell Blast’s, but the team had a steep learning curve
with the new XB9 Firebolts. It is said that the real moment
of success is not the one apparent to the crowd, and this
was never truer than in our case. The typical day was coffee
jump-started at 5:00am and ended a minimum 14 hours later…
Run after run of data was analyzed late into the evening every
night, resulting in small changes on a daily basis. Vehicle
performance was modeled and our real world results were analyzed
against predicted performances. Changes were evaluated and
modeled, gearing was changed, fuel maps were altered. Due
to the hard (and mostly after hours) work of Jesse, Dan ,
Kevin and Bill, the bikes slowly and methodically went faster
and faster. In the case of our MPS XB9R, terminal velocity
increased from 148mph early in the week to over 170mph by
Friday.
Despite the proven scientific method the team
was using successfully, it was pretty obvious the salt flats
and mother nature herself had the final say of things. In
defiance of what any computer modeled simulation said, you
could be 5 mph slower on a back to back run just because the
salt surface had gotten a little moister. Changes in barometer
reading varied drastically during the week, and when combined
with 100 degree temperatures, resulted in effective altitudes
of over 7400 feet above sea level. All those nice sea level
horsepower numbers were now, quite literally, miles off from
the reality of the salt flats. It was a huge challenge keeping
up with the ever-changing conditions. One of the most accurate
indicators of how the run was going to go wasn’t generated
by our computers or the results of simulated runs, but turned
out to be how much salt was being picked up by the trailer
tires of the vehicle in line in front of us while driving
towards the start line.
Despite all of the challenges, team JDees Performance
enjoyed a very successful week running their Buell motorcycles.
The 4 team bikes set 5 records over the course of the week:
500cc P-PP Buell Blast 116.004mph
500cc M-PG Buell Blast 121.903mph
500cc MPS-PG Buell Blast 124.358mph
1000cc P-PP Buell Firebolt 144.626mph
1000cc MPS-PG Buell Firebolt 169.209mph
A lot of people have asked what its like to
make a pass on the salt flats…its really an amazing feeling
and is immensely tougher than it looks. It requires the same
precision as drag racing, but instead of running down a ¼
mile, your attention is consumed for more than 4 miles at
a time. This is what it feels like to make a 170mph pass on
‘Anna’, team JDees Performance modified partially
streamlined XB9R Firebolt …
After hours in line, we have finally made it
to the 3 mile course start line. Anna has been started and
is angrily idling away, a stuttering bark emanating from the
un-silenced dual megaphones tucked in tightly under her bodywork.
We awkwardly clamber aboard and make ourselves comfortable
in the unpadded saddle. It becomes quickly evident this is
a single purpose machine. The clip-ons are low. The pegs are
high. One only conforms to the motorcycle in a full tuck position…you
soon realize that as far as the bike is concerned, your only
job is to wack the throttle wide open, make yourself as small
as possible, and shift a couple of times. Any upright standing
primate with opposable thumbs can do this…right?
The view in front of you at the start line is
impressive. A wide, groomed, brilliant white salt path, scarred
with the occasionally black remnants of wheelspin, stretching
out towards the horizon. The bright orange one mile markers
are visible in the distance. More impressive yet are the two
mile markers, which seem to be half submerged, partially obscured
by the curvature of the earth. And standing right in front
of the bike is chief starter Jim Jensen. Your last human contact
before making your assault on the course. A unique bond is
formed over the week with your starter, and his handshake
at the line, words of advice (‘the throttle goes both
ways you know…’), and final wave off have a calming,
familiar effect that’s difficult to describe. I’ve
forgotten a lot of the people’s names I’ve met that
week, but I haven’t forgotten Jim’s…
Jim indicates that the course is clear. One
of our crew guys walks over to the bike and yanks the shifter
up into 1st gear (Anna runs a GP shift upside down shift pattern
in order to minimize rider input for shifting into just pressing
down). Bill waves us off, and he slowly disappears on our
right side as we gingerly balance clutch and throttle on the
very tall-geared XB and launch Anna down the course.
In 1st gear we don’t come anywhere near
to full throttle, as the rear tire is spinning on the loose
surface, threatening an embarrassing high side the entire
time. A heavy, deliberate shift into second at 8000rpm is
made, despite the fact that the rear wheel is still spinning
furiously. 2nd gear comes and goes with frightening speed…the
g-force pressing me back into the seat remind me that this
is a seriously fast machine. Another deliberate shift into
3rd and full throttle is finally attainable without going
completely sideways. I begin to tuck in against the building
breeze, making myself as small as possible. 4th gear now,
and one begins to get a serious sensation of speed. A 140mph
breeze begins rippling any exposed leather covered extremities.
Tuck in even tighter behind the windscreen…molding my
body so that the rippling is minimized. Around 150mph, I begin
to realize that counter-steering on the slippery surface is
no longer effective in turning the motorcycle. One is pretty
much stuck with the direction that you are currently aiming.
Ironically, for as much trouble as I have changing the bike's
direction, even a very light crosswind will move the bike
sideways across the course in the blink of an eye. I begin
to realize at this point, that whatever the bike is going
to be, its not going to be quiet. The combination of the dual
open megaphone exhaust, un-silenced open velocity stack 2
inches below your chin, and an 8700rpm 4th to 5th gear shift
point all combine into a gloriously deafening baritone thunder.
The 1-mile marker flashes by in an instant as we make the
final upshift into 5th gear.
As quickly as the bike has accelerated through
4 gears through the first mile, the 5th gear acceleration
is painfully slow and will take the entire length of the 2nd
mile. After the final shift point, I wrap my left arm around
the triple clamp to drop my shoulder out of the wind, and
pull forward and down as far as possible, effectively riding
one handed. I can barely see the black line marking the edge
of the course to my right out of the windscreen, as all attention
is focused on the tachometer as it slowly creeps past 8000
rpm. A fine salt dust blows around the cockpit behind the
bubble of the fairing and up inside my helmet, causing a stinging
pain to my already chapped lips. The stability of the radical
stock geometry/wheelbase of the production sportfighter is
rock solid, although the spinning rear tire and loose surface
cause the bike to gently weave. This was disconcerting at
first, but eventually became expected, if not respected. Apparently
this phenomena was not limited to our Firebolt, as an old
timer told me this was known as the Bonneville Waltz…
The 2 mile mark flashes by, and we are now on
the timed portion of the course between the 2 ¼ entrance
trap and the final 3 mile exit trap. Strangely, due to the
barren and featureless landscape of the lakebed, even at 170mph,
there isn’t much of a perception of speed. Focus is maintained
on the wavering tachometer, as the bouncing needle tells a
story wheelspin, salt condition, and terminal velocity. The
needle points to 8400rpm (equivalent to 171mph) as the 3-mile
marker and timing trap exit flashes by in peripheral view.
At the end of the run, I would slowly roll out of the throttle,
as I found just chopping the throttle at the end of the run
on the high compression engine would skid the rear tire, causing
a little more excitement then necessary. It was also found
to be a good idea to remain tucked in until some speed had
been dissipated. Immediately popping up out of the tranquility
of the still air behind the fairing into a 160mph breeze tended
to want to try and separate rider from bike in a fairly violent
manner. We coast to the 4 mile turn off mark, manually downshifting
the bike with my left hand accompanied to the raucous bark
of the open meg exhaust on deceleration. We pull off the groomed
track and coast across the bumpy and loose surface towards
the access road on our right, rolling to a slow stop and shutting
off the engine.
Silence. Suddenly we are sitting alone on the
lakebed, without another soul visible in any direction. Although
the chase truck left the start line the same time we did,
it will take another 5 or 6 minutes before it appears on the
horizon. It’s a rare moment of peace and contemplation
that’s probably different for every rider/driver who
has ever challenged the salt flats. It’s a uniquely Bonneville
experience that makes the place special. The moment is over
as the chase truck becomes visible, and you can usually tell
the if the run was a success by the expressions of the driver
(although I learned you couldn’t necessarily trust that
either…). We roll the bike hurriedly into the van, to
either get back in line quickly, or hopefully, meet the allotted
45 minutes allowed to get the bike back to the impound to
qualify for a world record. Welcome to Bonneville.
I made my final run with Anna on Friday morning,
the day we were scheduled to leave. The records are an average
of two runs made 1 day apart, and we were trying to back up
a 167mph run we made the afternoon prior (just prior to a
freak 60mph windstorm that blew through). Up until that point,
we had not yet been able to crack 170mph. Despite a heavy
rain the night before, the salt conditions were the best they
had been all week, and we were able to run nearly 171mph.
An incredible way to end an incredible week. As I sat alone
on the return road awaiting the rest of the team in the truck,
I just tried to absorb the whole experience one last time.
It was more than I ever could have hoped for. Salt racing
is addictive, and the question of coming back someday didn’t
seem as much a matter of ‘if’, but a matter of ‘when’.
hmmm…Buell just came out with the new XB12R 1200cc Firebolt.
Could a JDees Performance XB12 crack 200mph? It may not be
as much a question of ‘if’, but ‘when’…
Team JDees Performance would like to thank the
Following for their generous support of their successful 2003
landspeed record attempts.
Miller Brewing Company/Miller Lite
WOW Distributing
B.R.A.G.
Alpinestars
Earl Werner
Erik Buell
Paul Wiers
Mick Snead
Dan Alberti
Steve Krause
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