Please excuse this shameless self-promotional moment, but I’ve recently joined the ranks of Bonneville racing legends Al Teague, Art Arfons, Craig Breedlove and Mickey Thompson. We have each set multiple records flying across the salt, we have each tempted the gods of speed with death defying passes (well, maybe not so much for one of us), and we have each experienced the same salty sweetness that is difficult to describe (more on that in a moment).
The 63rd Annual Bonneville SpeedWeek began for Team BoneEvil as it has for the last four years. Following a couple of tuneup runs, my D.B. HBR-5 and I popped off a blistering qualifying run of 98.075 mph on Sunday, August 14. Unfortunately, our record run on Monday morning was into a 14 mph headwind on rain-soaked salt that squashed the spirit of my petite two-banger. With a clocked speed of 95.679 mph, our two-way average barely squeaked out a new under-750-cc production sports car record at 96.877 mph (our prior record being 96.683).
Nevertheless, at Bonneville any record is a major accomplishment, so the usual childish celebration ensued with team members Mark Evans, Mike Hynes, John Furlow Sr., Chuck Kirkpatrick, Mike Kirkpatrick and I bench racing—telling lies about how much faster we would be going with a bit of tuning.
And then everything suddenly changed.
As we rolled through the tech line following our world record run we noticed an odd little car being tuned in the pits. The owner, Tom Donney, spotted us and walked over. He looked our 1959 Deutsch Bonnet over, smiled broadly, bowed in reverence to the wee French machine and said, “Ah, the legendary evil one.”
Donney is an instantly likeable man, energetic, enthusiastic and polite. He invited us into his pit area and showed us his 1968 Saab Sonnet Series II V4. The car, known as “Saab Story,” had smooth, wind-cheating lines and was nicely finished in green livery. But the hell with all that; there were J/GT decals on the side of his car…this dude was racing in my class!
The Southern California Timing Association rulebook allows for sports car engine swaps from the same manufacturer so Donney had tossed aside his car’s stock Saab 4-cylinder in favor of a Saab three-rattler built to 750-cc specs. When Donney started the engine the thing growled pretty loud. After all, his car had 50 percent more cylinders than mine, and he didn’t have to worry about adjusting valves. His power-maker was a potent Swedish two-stroker. Was I worried? Hell yes.
Team BoneEvil had hardly begun to celebrate when Donney zipped off an impressive Monday afternoon qualifying run of 100.458 mph. Although his Tuesday morning backup was slower, his two-way average of 98.968 was good enough to take the record I’ve so proudly held since 2008. Then, grinding salt into our open boney wounds, Donney installed the high-compression head, went back out on Wednesday and crushed the record with a two-way average of 105.613. The next day he completed the decimation with his third record of the meet at an astounding two-way speed of 107.443.
Donney is an active Saab collector (he is part Swedish and a bit of a legend with the Saab guys) and owns a transmission shop in Fort Dodge, Iowa. He is also a defensive end football coach at Black Hills State University in Spearfish, South Dakota. In addition to being one heck of a nice guy, he has made Bonneville history, Saab history and single-handedly ruined my year.
I imagine they are dancing in the streets of Stockholm, and I am certain that tears are flooding les rues de Paris. It’s not so happy at my house, either.
Teague, Arfons, Breedlove, Thompson and I have each seen our records fall. Sad for our loss but happy for the next guy, this is the nature of land speed racing. Now please be assured that Donney will have to contend with BoneEvil and yours truly next year. We will be stronger, faster and meaner and ready to race. You can count on that. But for now the racing is over and I’ve found a new pal in Donney. Since we’ve only recently met I can’t really say just yet that he’s a BFF; maybe more of an SOB.
By Mark R. Brinker
