If anyone tells you that driving seriously on Bonneville or Black Rock is psychologically easy, then you are talking with an under-performer. The stark reality is that, once the cockpit lid is shut, you are on your own. The team has done everything they possibly can to support you and, in return, they expect a perfect run otherwise, their super-human effort and their career risk in backing the project is being wasted. The car is lightweight and has a greater power:weight ratio than front line jet fighters. The designer has built in as much safety as his conscience and weight restrictions allow. You have known right from the start of the project that even medium-speed crashes may not be survivable - and so has the designer - so you both know the stakes and you are both risking a great deal.
So, here I am in Thrust 2 at the south end of the track about to make the best run that we ever made, Start Team 2 has refuelled, replaced the parachutes and checked everything. I have just completed 19 pre-start cockpit checks. The Palouste gas turbine starter whines into life with a sheet of red exhaust flame and, shortly after it reaches idling speed, I push the main engine starter. The big Avon rumbles unevenly as it begins to spin and I open the HP cock with the right foot at 10% rpm; the rumbling increases as the burners light and the JPT needle starts to move slowly at first, as the thermocouples feel the exhaust heat. At 20%, my finger is off the button and the Avon is spooling up on its own. At 34%, the oil pressure warning light is out. RPM climbs to 40% idle and I remember to put my foot gently on the left-hand pedal - which is the brake.
Start Team 2 disconnects the starter airhose, replaces the
access panel, gives a hurried thumbs-up, and tows the Palouste
to a safe distance - I am on my own.
'Speedy one ready to roll.'
'Speedy one - course is clear - good luck.'
All radio discilpline is very tight - any transmission is a distraction. There is no need to transmit unless you are in trouble. OK, holding the brakes, I gradually increase rpm, easing the right foot down gently, making sure that the JPT does not go above 800C. At 91%, we hold for a split second for a last look around check and then we go. Floor the throttle and brakes off. The car surges forward and then the acceleration momentarily pauses as the nozzle opens and max reheat lights with a bang which kicks you smartly in the back. The force is relentless - there is no feeling that the engine is going to peak. Sometimes , with an explosive light-up we have recorded 5G acceleration, but only for an instant.
Remember the right foot must never relax until we are finished. The throttle must be at max. Check rpm's 104% - OK, I have 17000 lbs of thrust. JPT has jumped to 900+. In the RAF, they rebuild the engine when this happens, but we have done it before and there have been no tell-tale signs of engine break-up. A guick look at the speed and we are just coming up to 300, This is a difficult time, as I have to constantly apply lock to keep the nose in front of the rear wheels, and the lane width is only 50ft. At this point, we have the first problem the helmet visor has not locked properly, the visor releases and positions itself with the bottom edge across my line of sight. Seeing is difficult. I must not abort the run or lose acceleration, I clamp the wheel, check the right foot is full down and then click the visor in position with my left hand; we divert around 12" out of line to the left, but there has been no loss of acceleration and I can now see where we are going.
This is the boring part - 350-550. The curvature of the earth is clear, and the track markers are racing past, one every mile.They seem as if they are on a conveyor belt, rising over the horizon 2 miles away then flashing past, Even though they are 6ft x 6ft, sponsored by Canon (but I still can't read them) I am not worried, as I am looking for the double markers which mark the end of the measured mile, Nothing else counts. Ah, there is the shock on the intake nacelle, a small whisp of condensation establishes on the nose downstream of the shockwave. That probably means that the airflow under the car is already supersonic and we are losing downthrust, Interestingly, I am driving automatically; this is the ninth time I have driven Thrust 2 over 600mph and I am steering with large wheel inputs - around 40 degrees either side of the centre. I am working hard but afterwards we will find that, as usual, the car tracks probably vary by as little as 11" deviation from the true - it's a car with brilliant aerodynamics.
Now, that's more interesting: the engine is beginning to come on song with an enormous roar. We have reached a natural resonance speed - it sounds and feels good. Engine percentage steady at 104.5% and the JPT is now 1100 degrees - that's 300 degrees above max. and I am sitting right alongside the turbines... Speed should be around 550 - a quick check - yes, 570 all feels good. Shocks now establish on the wheel arches. Again I can see the condensation trail from behind the supersonic shockwave. This usually happens at 615 mph. On a cold day, the entire car is surrounded in a huge, fierce condensation cloud, just like those photos of low level supersonic aircraft. 640 mph and we are into the measured mile, still holding max. power and still accelerating, putting on the last 10 mph, Although the download on the front wheels is coming off at a frightening pace, I feel no lightening of the steering. Interestingly, my metabolic rate has speeded up to such an extent with all the adrenalin that everything is happening in slow motion. We seem to have all the time in the world, even though I am coming through the mile in 5.5 seconds. Fascinated, I can see the Timekeeper access track where it crosses our course at right angles. I watch it come up in slow motion, and disappear beneath the car - at over 640 mph. I can even see individual palm-sized polygons of the playa surface we are running on. Ahead, the shape of the horizon is changing very fast as we head for the Black Rock and the mountains.
The two markers side by side flash by. A quick check of the
speedo, and the needle is at 650 mph - just where John Ackroyd
had put a paper triangle all those years earlier. Speed is
Mach 0.84. We are through. OK, cancel reheat gently, and hold
104.5%. As reheat cancels, I feel a tremendous deceleration,
even while we are in minimum reheat, the aero forces at this
speed are fantastic. We are out of reheat now, so I drop the
engine rpm to 85% and count:
1-2-3,.. then, lifting my right foot, shut the HP cock.
- With the engine slowing and drag building instantly at intake,
the car feels unstable. It feels as though she is on tiptoe
and ready to swap ends. maybe I am over-sensitive, but it is a
nasty moment. I watch the speed down to 500 mph and fire the
right chute button on the steering wheel. As soon as my thumb
grazes the button, the projectile has fired, the drogue pulls
out the main chute which deploys on 100ft of nylon strop. This
happens unbelievably before I have finished pushing the
button. We pull at least 5G that's losing speed at
105mph/sec - and my head drops towards the wheel. I can't hold
it, and the inner ear tells me that the world has shifted
through 90 degrees and we are running down a cliff face.
As the G comes off, the world rights itself and, with the parachute out, I know we are safe. A quick instrument check at 500 mph and all seems OK, I watch the speed down to 380 mph; at this point, I can pull the second chute which will give us another 3G+ deceleration, Mike Barrett's famous tripple ripple. But all is OK, and we have no need of the emergency chutes. Speed is right down to 200 mph now and I feel that I ought to be outside walking. It's getting awfully boring, Now we are down to 150, and I bring in Glynn Bowsher's famous brakes. I want to stop as quickly as I can now, to minimise dragging of the strop and chute. Amazingly, on the sandy desert floor, the adhesion is good and the brakes work well. We stop with a jerk.
Fuel pump - off, Battery Master - off, LP Cock - close, Chute button - covers on, Extinguishers - disarm, I reach for the note pad and scrawl in everything I can remember. The Sony video camera has recorded all the readings, but the driver's impressions count for much. John is going to need these for the next run. The Jaguar Firetender pulls up alongside, and Mike Hearn is opaning the cockpit. 'Bloody fast run that. Congratulations. I reckon you've got it...' The USAC timekeepers are on the air: "Time for the mile 642.971, time 5,599 seconds. Congratulations, that's a new record!'
The rest of the crew are alongside, I'm being hoisted onto shoulders and John is squirting the contents of a small, sickly bottle of Californian champagne all over everyone . I think he must have been hoarding that bottle since 1981, and it's abolutely fitting - it never was a big budget picture! Then the Media are upon us. Suddenly, we are international news. Back in Bruno's bar at Gerlach, the phone never stops ringing . For the first two hours, the local customers are fascinated then they get bored. The constantly ringing 'phones are no longer a novelty and they go pack to the pool and niller Lights. Amazingly, it took just 45 minutes for the news to get to everyone related to the project in the UK . After that, anyone you rang up in Britain seemed to know more about it than we did! For once, the Project Thrust team was at a loss - we had never planned for success and we didn't know what to do with it! After 9 years' struggle and the help of 225 companies, we had exceeded our planned peak speed by 0.88 mph and we held the famous record.
We had also succeeded ourselves out of business, perhaps in the short-term!
Copyright Richard Noble 18-10-1991 BRN.1599
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