It all started on a blistering Summer day in 13 Palms California about 2009. On the first day of our run to the Black Hills for the rally we slid off the 10 freeway and took the only road creeping into a dark side of the Yucca, Cactus and Joshua Tree region outside of Los Angeles.

We left the congested coast early before the fiery sun awoke to lane split and dodge the bumper kissing bumper angry city traffic. With a plan we skirted into the down-trodden tumbleweed strewn valley before gentrification hit, like it did Palm Springs on the south side of the interstate.

After WWII 5-acre chunks of land with dinky three room sheds became available. The government offered these bleak pads to anyone with the balls to endure frozen winters and blistering summers. Few lasted, but the perfect hideaways blistered with bikers and hot rod builders, renegades with loud tools and even louder motorcycles.

So I slid on the sandy pavement and landed in front of the only Denny’s for 75 miles. It was the beginning of the ugly era of all gray interiors, but the menu and restaurant signage touted All-Bacon, all the time. We met with a biker I rode with in the early ‘70s, Bob T and a member of the notorious Hessians MC, Larry Petri.

While I slathered Bacon Pancakes with butter and syrup Larry muttered, “Hey Bandit I came across a belly tank from WWII.”

There was that war again.

“Would you like to help me build something for Bonneville?” Larry asked.

“Sorry,” I muttered and took another delicious bite. “I’m in the motorcycle industry.” We kept slurping juicy bacon pancakes, when it hit me. “What if we built a streamlined trike?”


I could start taking shots of a new fifth of Jack Daniels and tell you about every step of the stumbling transition from a glorious notion into something real and running, but I’m not sure one bottle would do the trick. We started with the concept, two Belly Tank shells from Class Glass in New Jersey, a rear wheel from Metal Sport Wheels, an Avon tire and the 150 horse powerhouse 135-inch JIMS Twin Cam engine and a JIMS trusty 5-Speed gear cluster designed tough for drag bikes.

We worked with Lucky Devil Metal Sports for a couple of years trying to cobble together the frame, and then Paughco took the lead as I supplied a dragster front end and two cast mag wheels. They used chunks of exhaust pipes and one of their rubbermount touring frames to initiate the chassis, but employee issues and economic downturns slowed progress. With each effort we learned something.



The 5-Ball crew with the help of Rick Krost of U.S. Choppers delivered the parts and pieces to Wilmington, California and the Bikernet and 5-Ball Racing headquarters, where I pieced together a motorcycle lift to raise elements of the build to bench height. We went to work and found a Bourget frame builder, Kevin Kall on a power boat in a destitute Wilmington marina.

We started to build what you see here with a few design notions, lots of investigating and time on the phone speaking to experts. It took two Mexican boat builders and myself to fiberglass the top and an airplane windshield fabricator to make the windshield. Micah McCloskey, the Ugly MC member became the pilot as the compartment shrunk. Fortunately at 5’8” and 140 pounds of healthy, active, well adjusted hard riding biker, he could curl himself into a scrunched package and slip into the leather coated thin aluminum seat.

Micah also took on the weekly roll of engine mechanic and main tuner. His son manufactured front end components to improve handling. There’s the rough-cut story and I’m sticking with it. We started road-testing it in the desert near Leinweber cams and on Sundays slipped past the Port of Los Angeles undetected. Then the vast and unrelenting Bikernet Team and 5-Ball Racing moved to the Black Hills at the epicenter of the Sturgis Rally.



The Utah weather cleared and it looked like 2024 could be ripe for a run to the BMST, Bonneville Motorcycle Speed Trials, event at the end of August just nine days after the non-stop Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. We hurriedly hatched a plan to test and perhaps set a World Land Speed Record. We packed our shit and hit the road.

New member, stockcar Steve, the husband of the new Sturgis Motorcycle Museum Executive Director Heidi Haro, supplied the tools and tremendous help. As it turned out the several members of the crew were inductees into the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum and Hall of Fame, including my Hamster self, Micah, Ron Paugh and Jim of JIMS Machine.



We loaded up for the 750 mile crawl, hauling a light enclosed trailer with the Salt Torpedo strapped down and my Nissan sacrificial van loaded to the gills with tools, equipment, coolers and snacks.


The Bikernet Bonneville team pulled out on the 22nd of August from the Black hills and sliced across Wyoming in search of Rawlins, Wyoming.

A fire alarm interrupted trying to get a good night’s sleep. Steve Haro, at 57 took on the role of the teenager of the group with Panhead John lead the pack at 77, “I need to have my own room.”

Then Bandit, or me or maybe I carried the next torch at 76 years of age and finally Micah McCloskey came in third with the number 75. Micah and I were members of the Easyriders Streamliner team in 1989 and 1990 when we set the World Land Speed record for motorcycles at 322 mph.

Micah was a friend of Burt Munro’s and put Burt up at his SoCal pad when Burt arrived in Los Angeles from New Zealand. Burt’s World Land Speed Record breaking anniversary was due to take place during the BMST event.




I’m trying desperately to cut to the chase, because the ending is incredible.





We arrived Friday pushing against torrential winds and tried to make it onto the salt, but the wind blew at gale force and we waited. But then the word came. “The Buell Brothers and Sisters are on the Salt setting up wind swept pits, massive tarps and steel canopies.

Called into action, we flew out the motel room door, left the trailer keys behind and headed toward the salt 10 miles to the east. Fortunately we were still able to unleash the trailer and unload the van, and then cut a salty trail for Wendover and Mexican food, every night.



If Bonneville is new to you here’s the Wikipedia description: Elevation 4,236

The Bonneville Salt Flats are a densely packed salt pan in Tooele County in northwestern Utah, United States. A remnant of the Pleistocene Lake Bonneville, it is the largest of many salt flats west of the Great Salt Lake. It is public land managed by the evil Bureau of Land Management and is known for land speed records at the Bonneville Speedway. Access to the Flats is open to the public.



The next morning early we attempted to set up our pit area with the Buell Brothers, but then the wind returned. “The sun can kill you,” Drew from the Buell brothers shouted, but then removed his canopy as the wind swept across the vast 60 square miles of salt.



Under the FIM, the AMA, the BMST and Streamliner separate rule books we attempted over and over to acknowledge, understand and implement said rules. We consulted with Drew Gatewood a former official when shit didn’t make sense.



One of the most terrifying aspects of Bonneville racing is passing scrutineering on the first day. The entire week depends on passing and being able to race on the sacred salt. We waited in line for hours, and when it was our turn special, certified, FIM, streamliner officials were called under the wind-whipped canopy to inspect the decade-old endeavor with magnifying glasses, clipboards, testing instruments, markers, flashlights scornful faces and glistening authoritarian badges.

Panhead John attempted to document the process with his camera but was told in no uncertain terms cameras were not allowed. Scarred, we had turned the terrible inspectors against us, I snatched the entire, 3-inch thick build file from my tattered leather briefcase to prove something, anything was cobbled together in a certified manner. Good luck with that.



As the inspectors proceeded, referring constantly to their pages of check lists. I made notes. Panhead John paced up and down. Steve tried to point out safety measures only to receive glaring dismissive stares. I dared not ask any questions for fear of turning a positive finding into a race stopping error. The sun seemed to break through the windswept salt to glare under the inspection canopy and the heat intensified.



I flipped through reams of forms regarding Micah’s medical history, media passes, team tickets, World Land Speed Record forms, release forms, registration details and motel reservations trying to look like I knew what I was doing or attempting to shield my paranoia. Hell, I only worked on this bastard for over 10 years and some serios looking official could find something and instantly in less than 10 seconds destroy our chances to witness the Salt Torpedo going very fast.



I looked at Micah who has been on the salt as a team member since 1990 with the Easyriders team and numerous Bonneville teams as a tech, but never had the opportunity to pilot a super-fast machine, let alone a ground-up experiment build by the Bandit and an unruly team of outlaws. I thought Micah might pass out as the inspector barked and studied every finger of his fire-tested gloves.

The inspection team scoured the controls, safety wires, the parachute, the five strap pilot harness, Micah’s fire suit, helmet, shoes, sock and gloves. Sweat poured from my brow as they stared at my fire extinguishers which notably passed their inspection date by four months, but the arrow still pointed into the green pie meter slice. Then it happened.

An inspector wearing a straw hat and glasses halfway down his nose look at me directly and said, “This steering apparatus is not wide enough!”



We collectively froze, like WTF, over! We used an officially certified, Summit Racing dragster steering wheel. What could be wrong with that? He snapped out a tiny metric tape measure and pulled the metal measuring instrument across the billet aluminum grip from one to the other. We froze. It was less than 2/3s the required distance.

We were fucked. We stood in a motel parking lot all night while the fire alarm blared for nothing. We raised funds for years to keep this effort going. We struggled, guessed, made shit and dreamed and then this…

Then it happen. Something I never saw before under the super-serious scrutineering tent. The inspector looked up at me and said, “We’re not going to stop you from racing. You just need to check the rules for next year.”

I didn’t know whether to shit or celebrate. I quickly made a note on the back of a racing form and said, “Yes sir. I’m all over it.”



We were also told to investigate the position of our front fenders, the holes in the body to reach controls, etc. We removed the top of the body and they continued to inspect. We weren’t required to test the parachute. The fire extinguisher sizes forced us to stay below 150mph. None if it made sense, but we passed, thanked our inspectors and returned to the pits where we prepared for racing on Sunday. Hooray!





We passed, but still had challenges. We addressed any mechanical issues we came across, including grinding some clearance inside the body around the top of the gas tank. We added fireproof putty to the firewall, tightened all the motor-mounts, checked all the fluids, bolted the canopy in place and called it a massively successful day.



The next morning the wind calmed and the riders meeting took place at 8:00 a.m. A handful of minutes late, Micah listened as one of the competitors shouted about blowing his motor if he couldn’t break the rules. There were wind delays and threats of rain. We moved the Salt Torpedo into position at the mountain course staging area. Then Micah changed his mind and chose the short course, which put us way down the list. He was concerned about heat from being on the course too long.



We found ourselves in a hot sun waiting game. A little after 2:00 in the afternoon we noticed a weather front creeping onto the salt from the west. Finally, we were called to fire up and roll to the front of the line for a 3-mile pass. We placed stockcar Steve, at the 4-mile marker without a cell phone, but that’s another story.



Panhead John suggested we carry a booster battery and jumper cables to the staging area. One of the front tires silently hissed a slight air leak and we needed to constantly monitor the air pressure.

Finally an opportunity arrived with the storm front heading our way. We rolled to the staging line. I had numerous discussions with Micah about this first pass. I wanted him and the Salt Torpedo to survive. We worked hard to build this beast, but as an unproven concept it was totally unknown and built by anything but rocket scientists.



I wanted him to take it easy and to feel every aspect of the beast and fortunately he did and made the pass at a totally successful 126.8 mph. “I had a comfortable tail wind,” Micah said. “It was our first full pass on the salt and we succeeded.”

Since our class included the FIM European sanctioning body, we were forced to receive word from the FIM, if we had a shot at a World Land Speed Record. We did, which meant we had to make a return pass from the staging area at the opposite end of the track.



With the skies darkening we found ourselves at the 4-mile marketer waiting for an FIM official to give us the word. Plus, we needed to adjust our fender struts, since one rubbed against one of the front tires. We needed permission. Modifications are not allowed unless they are safety oriented. We received clearance, Steve fixed the front fender strut and Micah donned his fire suit preparing for the final return pass.





With additional confidence Micah fired the Torpedo to life for the three mile pass into the wind and signs of rain. “It started to rain and I pushed against a head wind,” Micah said. “The Salt Torpedo was strong and handled it. I was having fun but it started to drift at speeds.” The torpedo handled the growing wind and posted a 144.888 mph pass and the storm clouds rolled onto the salt.



We needed one more FIM certification and an official to chaperone the torpedo to the inspection pit area. At the same time as we rolled to the pits the storm hit with full force, while Steve remained at our pit area shit started to fly. Canopies ripped from their frames, tarps tore loose, pandemonium ensued while we attempted to negotiate with the officials at the impound area. “I’m not getting along with the big guy,” Micah said.









We did.

Bottom line an absolutely fantastic day. Our first two passes successful and we potentially set an FIM World Land Speed Record.


The success wasn’t so much the record, but the well handling passes. The unbroken-in JIMS 135 inch Twin Cam engine worked flawlessly. Every element of the liner working in unity and successfully, we survived everything the Salt threw at us, tested an unproven vehicle against the elements at high speeds and survived. Doesn’t get any better than that. Many thanks to the team.




My mind was a blur. Not sure which day or hour it was we scrambled to the salt early. At Bonneville you just start working for a goal and never stop until you reach it. We returned the Salt Torpedo to the impound area where an FIM inspector checked out his sealed fasteners. We then removed the top of the Salt Torpedo and the inspector sealed the engine. That’s the rule. No funny business between passes.




“I need to hit 160,” Micah said after the engine was officially sealed.



With the top off the Salt Torpedo we studied every element of the liner and checked every nut and bolt. We adjusted the chain and re-aligned the rear wheel.



Micah fired it up and rolled to staging. That’s when the battery started to act up. I’m determined something created a bad connection, maybe the salt or rain storm.



We waited hours and finally made a pass. “It stared to drift at speeds,” Micah said. “Maybe is was the chain adjustment misaligned the rear wheel or the previous night’s rain messed with the salt conditions.”



We broke our previous record and hit 153 mph. We received reports of grooves in the salt and maybe we needed additional toe-in with the front wheels. During this pass Micah lost traction, but he was comfortable in the cockpit and having a blast doing what he always dreamed of. The team blasted down the track to meet him at mile 4.


The battery kept acting up, but we fired it to life and he hit the road back for a final pass. “Against the wind she started to drift again,” Micah reported. “I couldn’t let go of the wheel to shift and I never reached a top speed. It just wanted to keep going.”



Our final pass of 146 mph meant we added 10 mph to our averaged record. “It was hard to stop in a mile,” Micah said. “It just wanted to keep going. The body and aerodynamics were excellent.”



Micah thought we mis-aligned the rear wheel while adjusting the rear chain. Then reports came from the pits. The previous day’s rain caused some salt softness. Two other riders went down.



We took the record run averages from135 mph to 148 mph, but we faced another issue, the failing battery. We could not get it fired at the staging area to return with the FIM escort to the impound area.



“I’ll push it,” Stockcar Steve said and started to push it toward the pits 2.5 miles away. We finally convinced the ardent Mr. Haro we could easily pull it with tie-down straps. Each time we had to gain permission from the tower. They approved and Micah got in, but Steve insisted on holding the strap, so if there was an issue he could let go. That forced us to roll to the pits at just over walking speed, about 5 miles an hour.



We arrived at the impound area and checked in. I started to remove the body, while the rest of the team returned to the pits to collect a pop-up, tools and snacks. The officials must prove your engine displacement is what you say it is. We chose to remove the rear head and went to work. Jim from JIM’s machine clarified the engine capable of 150 HP while carbureted. He told Micah, “The bore is 4 5/8 with 4 5/16-inch stroke.”




We took off the tank, the carb, unbolted the exhaust flange, removed the top motor mount and removed the head. He carefully measured it and came up with 2,200 ccs and then shit turned grim. He looked at his paperwork and said, “You’re in the 2000 cc class, You’re disqualified”

Micah turned pale and walked away. I pointed to the body, “There must be a mistake.” the classification under the number plate distinctly read 2,500 ccs. The officials carefully reviewed our paperwork against their computer and discovered a clerical error. He finally returned to us and reported in.

We faced one more challenge. Were there any European records in the 2,500 cc class? Maybe we didn’t break or set a record in our class. Curtis, the inspector returned to the blinking computer in the staff trailer.



Finally, 30 minutes later as we packed-up word came from an errant, badly timed computer. We successfully set an FIM World Land Speed Record and were good to go.




For 5-Ball Racing another year on the salt was in the books. We peeled out in the morning. We took the same trail home and passed multiple Antelope warnings. “They are not really Antelope,” Panhead John reported from the van jump seat, “Antelope are indigenous to Africa and India. They can run over 53 mph. Pronghorns are indigenous to Western and North America but are also known as Prairie Antelope and can cut a dusty trail at over 55 mph."  







--Bandit



Side bars:

Next year
We need a doodle bug or bicycle
Extra battery
Jumper cables
Spare rear chain
Front fenders
Adjust the clutch
Q-tips
Blow out the carb
Check front tire for leaks

Road Trip Warning: Coming back lots of breakdowns between Little America and Rawlins going east—Breakdown row WTF?


The FIM website has all the current records up through the beginning of the year. It’s a bit clunky of an interface but allows you to look up the class/group/ etc. you are looking for.
https://www.fim-landspeed-worldrecords.com/en/records

--Lucas Reber
BMST Volunteer



BONNEVILLE 2024 CHECK LIST—Just for duck-soup I’m running our check list. Going to Bonneville is a limited experience. There are no bike shops or motorcycle machine shops in Wendover, Utah.

It’s up to the teams to come as prepared as possible and bring all the tools, spare parts and equipment as they can haul to make repairs and adjustments. We only had five days to get the job done and anything can happen. Check lists help:

Check front end, and steering fasteners
Check front wheels
Check Tire pressure
Check for fuel leaks
Check fuel level
Check oil level.
Check rear chain, tire and axle
Safety wire rear axle
Check all pilot controls for lose fasteners and
adjustments
Check motor mounts
Transmission mounts
Gas tank mounts
parachute system ready
Windshield clean
No signs of Pilot overheating

Fortunately, we had no discomfort reports from pilot Micah McCloskey. Cool as a cucumber he wasn’t forced to wear leathers, but a light fireproof RJS racing FIM suit.

--Bandit



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