streetpirate
NAXJA Forum User
- Location
- Oregon City, OR
full report will be forthcoming, but for now you just get teasers
-
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Bonneville Speed Week 2011
- Thread starter streetpirate
- Start date
Gold Cobra
NAXJA Forum User
- Location
- Woodland, WA
So, how fast did the Sex Palace go?
- Location
- NE Texas
probably had trouble maintaining Idaho's 75mph speed limit..
lol
lol
mojojojo
NAXJA Forum User
- Location
- Gresham, Oregon
I think i saw Ben's rat-Rodmower in the background...
streetpirate
NAXJA Forum User
- Location
- Oregon City, OR
actually yes, I puked 2 quarts of oil out the airbox during the trip and the jeep was shaking pretty good at 75-80 and having tons of trouble maintaining speed up the hills. I think I may have bent a rim jumping the sex palace, and i did a compression test when I got home and it was 125-145 across the board. ccv is all clear, so i'm unsure why all the crankcase pressure? when its not at 5k of elevation and not laden with gear it has a normal amount of power as well.
streetpirate
NAXJA Forum User
- Location
- Oregon City, OR
I roll into The Bend In The Road just after dusk on Thursday. I'm scared, confused, and alone. I've finally made my first pilgrimage to speed week.
I reach down and taste the earth. It tastes of salt. I'm thrilled to make my first trek into the great unknown come daybreak.
It's salty. Not even salty, just salt. Salt everywhere. Salt in my mouth. Salt in my eyes. Salt in my socks like sand at the beach.
I've seen enough Bonneville coverage where I should have known what to expect, but it truly is like being on the XXXXing moon. The ground itself seems alien. Rock salt that has been poured over miles of flat ground and then soaked with water,allowed to dry to form crystalline patterns like mountainscapes in miniature. In the early morning, before the dew burns off, the top layer of salt sticks to everything it touches like crunchy white school glue. What you don't expect to see in this environment is a rainstorm.
Apparently, Thor was a little jealous of all the attention given to the god of speed. Just as dusk started to set in and the racers were packing up the pits and heading back to camp it rolled in. Black clouds, thunder, heat lightning in a 360 degree panorama that yours truly has never experienced living in the northwest. I was sitting in camp with some new found friends from the Phoenix, AZ area when the wind set in. we moved the camp chairs and our beers into the lee of the Winnebago to cut down on the feeling of being slowly media blasted with salt. As soon as I was settled in again the rain came dumping down. My hydrophobic desert dwelling friends retreated into the relative safety of their wizened Winnie while myself as a web footed wet lander decided to stay out and drink up the moisture that was falling in shot glass size drops. The ground on the other hand felt more akin to the desert people hiding in the motor home.
The Bend in the Road is the premiere campground just around the corner from the salt. The ground here consists of finely powdered marine life form shells mixed with salt. It has the consistency of expertly laid concrete and absorbs a similar amount of water. I soon found that this combination of dry salt lake bed and water is like some horrible grade-school nightmare of white school glue mixed with powdered chalk.
The laws of physics have yet to explain to me how something can become so sticky and yet so slippery at the same time.
Several Hoons decided they wanted to try their hands at drifting around the campground on the thin greasy top layer of ick. Their antics were reasonably met with screamed obscenities by the owners of expensive fifth wheel trailers. Who were also seen quickly flipping through their intricate insurance policies.
As the final bits of daylight vacated and excitement died down flashes of heat lightning appeared on the horizon and the wind began to pick up again. I was tried to sleep in my jeep due to the kite-in-a-tornado sounds my tent was making, but I could hear people shouting in camp. I got up and realized that the wind was gusting up to 30 mph and my tent, while in no danger of lifting due to several coolers and other gear, was in danger of being torn to shreds. I was standing in the oh-so sticky slippery trying to mudwrestle my tent into a position where I could remove the poles when I spotted a large tent flying through the air twenty yards away and about six feet off the ground. I watched it crash into a canal that runs behind the campground. Being somewhat veteran to the occasional high winds at Bonneville, my neighbors from Phoenix had driven lag bolts into the concrete-like ground with a cordless impact gun. Little did they expect a squall that would turn the ground into a sticky soup.
We approached the canal carefully. The depths of the canal were unfathomable as the banks were made of the same slippery chalky clay as everything else and would invariability trap anyone foolish enough to go down there. Luckily someone figured a way to fashion a lasso out of a ratchet strap. After a few tries we tugged the tent out. Storm weathered, I set out the next morning to see what I had come so far to see.
The smorgasbord of old iron is amazing. There are traditional rods and rats galore, T-buckets, cliché robin's egg blue blown deuce coupes,lead sleds, 60's caddies, streamliners, belly tankers, a stretched nose Fiat X1/9, a 50's cruiser pulling a teardrop trailer, and even some fat kid on a mini-bike wearing the biggest damn sombrero I've ever seen.
Bonneville is a participant's sport as opposed to a spectator sport. It's like going to the drags, that is, if the drag strip was five miles long and the closest lane was a quarter mile away. The soothing voice of the tower transmitting on CB channel 1 calling out ground speed at the one, two, three, four, and five mile mark.Sometimes the voice says “take 'em to impound” which means a land speed record has been broken. Experiencing this should be checked off on your list of things to do before you die.
Quick change rear ends, crank driven Latham-style blowers,
Goodyear LSR's, Moon discs, parachutes, and perfect sunrises oh my. Vintage dirt bikes are the pit bike of choice, but vintage pedal power is prevalent as well. You hear about the “sights and sounds of Bonneville” but it has to be experienced firsthand. How do you put into words the cackle of a dual engined streamliner in the pits having its carbs synced?
The drive to break a record here is catching as the flu and addictive as heroin. Make your own offering to the god of speed.
I reach down and taste the earth. It tastes of salt. I'm thrilled to make my first trek into the great unknown come daybreak.
It's salty. Not even salty, just salt. Salt everywhere. Salt in my mouth. Salt in my eyes. Salt in my socks like sand at the beach.
I've seen enough Bonneville coverage where I should have known what to expect, but it truly is like being on the XXXXing moon. The ground itself seems alien. Rock salt that has been poured over miles of flat ground and then soaked with water,allowed to dry to form crystalline patterns like mountainscapes in miniature. In the early morning, before the dew burns off, the top layer of salt sticks to everything it touches like crunchy white school glue. What you don't expect to see in this environment is a rainstorm.
Apparently, Thor was a little jealous of all the attention given to the god of speed. Just as dusk started to set in and the racers were packing up the pits and heading back to camp it rolled in. Black clouds, thunder, heat lightning in a 360 degree panorama that yours truly has never experienced living in the northwest. I was sitting in camp with some new found friends from the Phoenix, AZ area when the wind set in. we moved the camp chairs and our beers into the lee of the Winnebago to cut down on the feeling of being slowly media blasted with salt. As soon as I was settled in again the rain came dumping down. My hydrophobic desert dwelling friends retreated into the relative safety of their wizened Winnie while myself as a web footed wet lander decided to stay out and drink up the moisture that was falling in shot glass size drops. The ground on the other hand felt more akin to the desert people hiding in the motor home.
The Bend in the Road is the premiere campground just around the corner from the salt. The ground here consists of finely powdered marine life form shells mixed with salt. It has the consistency of expertly laid concrete and absorbs a similar amount of water. I soon found that this combination of dry salt lake bed and water is like some horrible grade-school nightmare of white school glue mixed with powdered chalk.
The laws of physics have yet to explain to me how something can become so sticky and yet so slippery at the same time.
Several Hoons decided they wanted to try their hands at drifting around the campground on the thin greasy top layer of ick. Their antics were reasonably met with screamed obscenities by the owners of expensive fifth wheel trailers. Who were also seen quickly flipping through their intricate insurance policies.
As the final bits of daylight vacated and excitement died down flashes of heat lightning appeared on the horizon and the wind began to pick up again. I was tried to sleep in my jeep due to the kite-in-a-tornado sounds my tent was making, but I could hear people shouting in camp. I got up and realized that the wind was gusting up to 30 mph and my tent, while in no danger of lifting due to several coolers and other gear, was in danger of being torn to shreds. I was standing in the oh-so sticky slippery trying to mudwrestle my tent into a position where I could remove the poles when I spotted a large tent flying through the air twenty yards away and about six feet off the ground. I watched it crash into a canal that runs behind the campground. Being somewhat veteran to the occasional high winds at Bonneville, my neighbors from Phoenix had driven lag bolts into the concrete-like ground with a cordless impact gun. Little did they expect a squall that would turn the ground into a sticky soup.
We approached the canal carefully. The depths of the canal were unfathomable as the banks were made of the same slippery chalky clay as everything else and would invariability trap anyone foolish enough to go down there. Luckily someone figured a way to fashion a lasso out of a ratchet strap. After a few tries we tugged the tent out. Storm weathered, I set out the next morning to see what I had come so far to see.
The smorgasbord of old iron is amazing. There are traditional rods and rats galore, T-buckets, cliché robin's egg blue blown deuce coupes,lead sleds, 60's caddies, streamliners, belly tankers, a stretched nose Fiat X1/9, a 50's cruiser pulling a teardrop trailer, and even some fat kid on a mini-bike wearing the biggest damn sombrero I've ever seen.
Bonneville is a participant's sport as opposed to a spectator sport. It's like going to the drags, that is, if the drag strip was five miles long and the closest lane was a quarter mile away. The soothing voice of the tower transmitting on CB channel 1 calling out ground speed at the one, two, three, four, and five mile mark.Sometimes the voice says “take 'em to impound” which means a land speed record has been broken. Experiencing this should be checked off on your list of things to do before you die.
Quick change rear ends, crank driven Latham-style blowers,
Goodyear LSR's, Moon discs, parachutes, and perfect sunrises oh my. Vintage dirt bikes are the pit bike of choice, but vintage pedal power is prevalent as well. You hear about the “sights and sounds of Bonneville” but it has to be experienced firsthand. How do you put into words the cackle of a dual engined streamliner in the pits having its carbs synced?
The drive to break a record here is catching as the flu and addictive as heroin. Make your own offering to the god of speed.
dick.breakey
NAXJA Forum User
- Location
- Bellevue/Seattle
- Location
- Vancouver British Columbia
: )
XJCasper
NAXJA Member #1042
- Location
- Yelm, Washington
I am such a hater. I hate you. Years ago in the 90's... The summer I lived there, Speedweek was canceled. There were issues with a depletion of salt or some BS like that.
Some day, school will be finished and I will have time to hall the family back out to Utah.
What a great time.
Some day, school will be finished and I will have time to hall the family back out to Utah.
What a great time.
streetpirate
NAXJA Forum User
- Location
- Oregon City, OR
The depletion is NOT bs.
URGENT REGULATORY ALERT
Federal Government Proposes Mandatory Salt Replenishment Program for Bonneville Salt Flats
The Bonneville Salt Flats is where racing began. From the early 20th century, legendary racers have sought to break land speed records or achieve a personal best. In addition to its professional racing programs, Bonneville remains at the heart of every racer’s dreams. For decades, the Salt Flats have decreased in size, strength and thickness because salt has been removed by an adjoining potash mining operation and not adequately replaced. Preservation of the Salt Flats is under the authority of the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). The BLM has issued an “Environmental Assessment” of the current mining operation that addresses future salt removal and replenishment. It provides three options, including a voluntary approach (Alternative A) and taking no action at all (Alternative C). The SAN is urging the BLM to adopt “Alternative B,” which requires a mandatory salt replenishment program. Salt removed from Bonneville to obtain potash will be replaced in the same amount OR MORE. The current mine owner, Intrepid Potash - Wendover, LLC, has also recommended adoption of Alternative B.
We Urge You to Contact the BLM Immediately in Support of
Alternative B
Alternative B
- The Bonneville Salt Flats (BSF) is a national treasure, a rare and unique resource. For motorsports enthusiasts, it is the place where hundreds of records have been set in a variety of automotive and motorcycle classes.
- BLM must adopt “Alternative B” from its proposed Environmental Assessment. Alternative B establishes a permanent salt replacement program to help protect the BSF.
- Alternative B is supported by the mine operator, Intrepid, and will require a minimum one-for-one replacement of salt that has been removed for potash mining.
- The BLM has had the responsibility to manage and preserve the BSF since 1946, when the racing area’s salt depth was at least 5 feet. It is now only a few inches thick. BLM must live up to its obligation to institute its own supplement program to replenish the salt.
DON’T DELAY! Please contact the BLM immediately by e-mail or fax in support of Alternative B. Comments are due by November 7, 2011.
Please e-mail a copy of your comments to Stuart Gosswein at [email protected].Bureau of Land Management
Salt Lake Field Office
Attn: Cindy Ledbetter
E-mail: [email protected]
Fax: 801-977-4397
