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Mr. Mederer Is Not Amused

Of course it wouldn’t be Bonneville without a dose or two of heartache. Taking it easy on the first pass, I ran 151 mph, entering these observations to the logbook: “Easy rear [wheel] spin, wobbly over 100 mph.” The first two miles of salt were chewed and rutted like a heavy-traffic thoroughfare crippled by a snowstorm. Traction and stability concerns limited my second pass to 155 mph. The third try, which required slaloming around blown-engine debris deposited by a competitor, clocked 177 mph. Not only was that too slow to qualify for a record attempt, I also turned off course early with my engine in a severe state of distress.



Monday was spent replacing that engine and adding ballast at the tail of the car in hopes of improved traction. A Tuesday pass at 229 mph with the engine splitting the sound barrier lifted our spirits. I adopted a strategy of driving judiciously through the rough salt and saving full throttle for the last three miles to achieve maximum velocity through the timing traps.



On the record attempt, that felt good while it lasted. Then, in fourth gear under full throttle, one rear tire, then the other snapped its tenuous grip with the salt. Backing off the throttle with a full head of boost under the hood had no effect, and the car began a slow, uncorrectable counterclockwise pirouette. At 200 mph. I yanked the parachute release just in time to keep the car from helicoptering into the air. Our December 1986 cover story succinctly summed up the situation: “Mr. Mederer is not amused by my escapades.”