As Fast as the Speed of a Runaway Shaver . . .

On the morning of Feb. 11, Art Haskins and I spoke at length about our long-shared dream of establishing a new land-speed record.

Haskins had worked 35 years as an aerospace engineer at Rockwell, while I worked in a similar capacity at home. He resigned from Rockwell to develop the prototype of his J-88 turbojet engine, an engine he believed could propel a human being, specifically me, faster than the speed of sound, on land.

Haskins had shown little interest in piloting such a vehicle himself, wishing to retain his “preferred driver” status among insurers.

We agreed to begin our quest the following morning at a salvage yard, in order to find some missing fan blades for the J-88.

At 8 a.m., we arrived at Werber Brothers Dismantlers. The brothers were upstart salvagers who’d earned a reputation as ballroom dancers before dedicating their lives to scrap metal.

We were greeted by Sam Werber, who, out of habit, still wore a tuxedo to work.

“We need fan blades for a J-88,” said Haskins.

Werber invited us to the observation room to watch his brother, Steve, dismantle an F-15 Tomcat and a Panasonic Wet-Shaver. The fan blades were removed and boxed. Steve asked if we wanted to attach a card; we declined and took our blades to Haskins’ garage.

While Haskins began assembling the jet-powered vehicle, I was given the assignment of reserving time at any of the available salt flats.

I first called Bonneville. The reservations agent explained that the flats were being redesigned, but there were temporary flats at the one-mile, three-mile and five-mile points.

I asked if there were any other flats she could recommend. She said there was one run by the city that was in perpetual disrepair. Then she remembered “Floyd’s Flats,” a privately owned salt flat in Glendale.

I made a reservation at Floyd’s for March 8. This gave Art three weeks to finish the assembly, and gave me time to introduce myself to the merchants on Brand Boulevard, whom I’d likely meet anyway if the chutes failed.

My next assignment was to call the Federation Internationale de l’Automobile (The Postman). The FIA was the lone governing body that could sanction a new land-speed record. In recent years, it had diversified and branched into sanctioning speeds of returned checks, so they knew my name as soon as I called.

In August 1994, I had a check returned from Discover Card at a wind-aided speed of 476 mph. The record was still deemed “unbreakable” when I spoke to Ken at FIA.

I told Ken that we’d be attempting a land-speed record in the weeks ahead and would need one of FIA’s top sanctioners. Ken explained that its No. 1 man, Tony Postino (Tony Mailman), had been dismissed for sanctioning the use of force in Cuba--a clear abuse of power.

Ken assigned Morton Callaway, a rookie sanctioner, who, as an amateur, successfully clocked the speed at which a California high school graduate begins work at Subway.

Haskins and I drove to Floyd’s Flats on the morning of March 8. We grew immediately pessimistic when our jet-powered vehicle could not keep up with the Tercel in the adjacent lane.

At 8 a.m., we arrived at Floyd’s, where we were greeted by Morton Callaway. Callaway had never worked at a salt flat behind a liquor store and cautioned us to clear aside all the trash bins before we made our run.

After clearing the salt flat, I stepped into the cockpit. Haskins gave me some last-second encouragement and advised me to wait a few more moments for the breakfast crowd to leave Winchell’s.

At 9 a.m., Callaway gave me the go-ahead. Within seconds, I’d reached 44 mph (even more kph).

Although Haskins and I were disappointed, we located the problem.

And all things considered, we did pretty well for having used the motor from a Panasonic Wet-Shave.