

What’s on the mind of the driver pushing his racing car toward the four-mile-a-minute mark on the Bonneville Salt Flats?
“One Out of Three Smashes Up”
Writes Mal Hooper
AS I HEADED for the starting line on the Salt Flats of Utah, I remembered two cars that had gone there earlier and how they had ended up—smashed to bits on the smooth, hard salt.
I remembered the judges in the timing stand and the spectators lining the course, tense as an oncoming streamliner began to fishtail. The car rolled over and flipped end for end, hammering itself into a mass of junk. It crashed on its back and slid past the last beam of the timing apparatus, automatically clocking its speed at more than 225 miles per hour. The car was completely ruined. Yet driver Sonny Rogers crawled out unhurt, his life saved by the roll bar and helmet.
My second memory was of Fred Carrillo. He wasn’t quite so lucky when his 1300-pound streamliner began to drift away from the black line at top speed. Carrillo corrected with his wheel and the car bounced and jumped across the salt for 2000 feet, scattering parts and pieces in all directions. It seemed impossible that Carrillo was still alive yet he emerged with no greater injury than a broken leg.
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