At Daytona

Driving an automobile at 253 m.p.h. you hear, not the roar of the motor, but a loud whistling made by the wind rushing into the cockpit where a vacuum might develop if there were not a small hole in the windshield. You see, through a pocket of glass, your car's long bonnet with a motor-revolution gauge a little to the right of where other cars have a radiator cap, outlined sharply against yellow sand. At one edge of your line of vision is a dark line made by a crowd of spectators and, on the other side, the flags 100 yd. apart marking your course. They go by like pickets in a fence. You feel the accelerator trembling against your foot because, although the sand looks smooth, there are ridges in it. Your head is pushed back against a leather cushion. You notice that the few seconds it takes to cover a mile pass very slowly. . . .

These sensations were described by the only man who has experienced them, Sir Malcolm ("Mike") Campbell, just after he made 253.9 m.p.h. the world's automobile speed record, at Daytona Beach last year. They are sensations which, combined with the anticipation of an immediate and violent death, might seem unpleasant. Sir Malcolm Campbell minded them little enough to go again last month to Daytona Beach, with bigger Rolls-Royce engines than ever in his Blue Bird, to see how much faster he could go. Last week, after long waiting for wind and tides to make the beach sufficiently smooth and dry, he found out.

On the morning that he had the 2,500 h.p. Blue Bird towed to the end of the course, 40 yd. wide and nine miles long with the measured mile in the centre, the sand was still rough and strewn with shells. Sir Malcolm's left wrist, sprained on the gearshift in a 240-m.p.h. trial spin last fortnight, was still sore. A thin dangerous haze had not entirely disappeared when Sir Malcolm decided he could wait no longer.

At the measured mile, the crowd on the dunes saw the huge crocodile-shaped car with its high steering tail, rocket past almost faster than they could turn their heads. Sir Malcolm put on his brakes when he had throttled down to 100 m.p.h., learned from mechanics who changed his sand-soaked tires that he had covered the mile in 13:16 sec. (273.5 m.p.h.). A few moments later he was at the north end of the beach, where he had started. His speed for the return run was 270.6 m.p.h. The average, 272.1 m.p.h., put mankind's record for land speed within 136.7 m.p.h. of his best air speed. Sir Malcolm Campbell lit a cigaret, described his experience:

"The beach was so rough that on several occasions I thought I was gone. ... I am not easily frightened but if I had not had perfect confidence in my car I could not have completed the attempt. . . . Throughout the run each way I was bucking about like a pea in a pod. . . . The mist obscured my view and dimmed my windscreen. ... I favored my left hand a bit. the hand wrapped to the elbow with elastic bandages. ... I am not at all happy about it. Frankly, there is no reason why I should be. My car has a potential speed of at least 300 m.p.h. ... I had hoped to approach within at least 15 miles of it. . . ."

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