Observations from the 2007 BUB Motorcycle Speed Trials
Debby Kreider - Sep 5, 2007

Have you ever been to the Bonneville Speedway in Utah? If you have seen the movie “The World’s Fastest Indian” recalling Burt Munro’s quest to set a land speed record there, you may feel as though you know what its like. You don’t.

 

Based on the movie, I imagined the salt flats somewhat differently than it was in reality. Somehow, I always seem to do that. Perhaps females tend to romanticize things. I don’t know. In the movie everyone looked great. The girls were cute in their little shorts, tops, and sneakers; their hair and make up perfect. If the ground wasn’t white, you would swear they were at the park down the street having a good time. 

 

In the movie, the guys looked good, too, discussing the speed trials with each other. You could have plucked them from the scene at the salt flats and deposited them in their own driveway waxing their cars and they wouldn’t have looked out of place. What a fun time they must be having, I thought, watching motorcycles race and set world records. Cool. Sign me up. I’m ready to go; which is exactly what my husband did!

 

Before we left for Bonneville, I inquired about the rules for this event; what you do, what to take, what to expect. I always try to do that before we head out on new adventures. Somehow, I rationalized this will make me better prepared for activity we are embarking on, but it rarely seems to pay off for me. Nevertheless, I asked the question and was pointed to the first timer’s web page by my husband, which I scanned quickly for any signs of danger or risks of death. It didn’t look too bad to me. Wear a hat. Apply lots of sunscreen. Consider long pants and closed toed shoes to keep the salt off your feet. Drink lots of water. Bring your own chairs, umbrella, or EZ-Up for shade if you want. Expected temps in the 80s and 90s. Shoot this sounded like a trip to the beach to me. A good time to work on my tan. My legs could use some color since they get neglected riding motorcycle.

 

First of all, Bonneville is way the heck out in the middle of no where. It could be more appropriately named Booneyville. It is over 100 miles west of Salt Lake City; a couple miles from the Nevada border. As you drive further and further from civilization, the area becomes flat and white. It is very deceiving. From the interior of an air conditioned vehicle, it appears to be snow and actually looks cold outside—it isn’t.

 

As we checked in at the gate at the end of the road, we were directed to drive out on the salt. “Stay just to the right of the port-a-potties, but don’t get to far to the right or you’ll be on the course,” we are advised. The port-a-potties are spaced out about one every mile for the next five miles until you arrive at the pit area. It is a very strange experience. It appears to be the North Pole. There are no roads, and the salt covers the sides and bottoms of cars and bikes like snow. I quickly glanced at the temperature in our truck to try and orient myself. It was 79 degrees. I see no polar bears. It is not snow.

 

The pit area is not really organized, and for an organized person like me, that is disturbing. There is no real signage or instructions. There are two barrier ropes that seemed to indicate where the course might be. I don’t know. I was focused on where to sit to get the best tan. We finally asked someone where to park and were told anywhere was fine. Go figure. Aren’t they racing really fast out here? I mean, where can we park to avoid getting hit? We decide on a spot and park the truck.

 

I had read the rules and followed the event suggestions. I wore long pants, my Cycle Matters t-shirt, and closed toed shoes. This was a media event for us. I grabbed my red and white golf umbrella as we stepped out of the truck, expecting to be back shortly to change into shorts, pull out my lounge chair, grab a soda, and watch the excitement as I worked on my tan.

 

The brightness was overwhelming and most definitely required sunglasses. The salt is strange to walk on and stuck to my shoes. I was curious as to what it tasted like, but resisted sampling. As we headed out to make sense of the pit confusion and understand the event process, I was surprised at the heat I felt. It was supposed to be 79 degrees! I quickly opened my umbrella seeking shade. Phew. It’s hot, and the more we walked, the hotter it got.

 

Here are my observations over the next hour and one half—which is all I lasted before requesting to be taken to the hotel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

BUB holds the current world record and title of “World’s Fastest Motorcycle” with a speed of 350.884 mph. On the day we were there, BUB’s only competition for the title, Ack Attack, crashed on an earlier run. There was question as to whether they would be able to make repairs and try again during this event. BUB’s streamliner was scheduled to run, but without the need to defend their title and the challenge of a less than perfect surface, appeared uninterested in running their bike. While I understand the strategy behind their decision, I think they owe it to the brave souls who withstand the heat and boredom in hope of getting an opportunity to witness the red rocket streak down the salt flats.

 

Am I glad I went? Absolutely.  It was interesting to put some context behind Bonneville Salt Flats, the movie, and stand where Burt Munro set a world record.

 

Would I attend again? Unlikely. My husband can go. Me? I think I’ll work on my suntan by the pool at the hotel.

 

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