Volume 61, Number 3 - Summer 2010

 

By Jeannie Pflum, DO

When people inquire what I do for fun, I often hear, “You do what?” Doctor, female, racing? The third part usually isn’t expected. Then comes the follow-up question: “What does your family think?” The short answer: both my dad and husband are supportive, and both are partly at fault for stirring in me what is now part of my routine.

My dad, Lee Gustafson, has been building race engines since he was a child. When I was growing up, he took annual trips to the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah. I well remember his stories about those 10 days in August, about the 500-mile trek across the desert from our home in Southern California to Wendover, Utah. The temperature was usually over 100 degrees. There was no shade and nothing to do except work on a race car. Sometimes a sudden downpour would cover the salt surface in two inches of water and wipe out an entire year of racing. 

All told, racing didn’t seem like much fun to me. 

My attitude changed in 1999, when I was a third-year ob-gyn resident at the University of Vermont. My dad called and asked if I wanted to drive a race car at Bonneville. The car was owned by Seth and Tanis Hammond, lifelong friends of my parents and founders of Specialty Crane & Fabrication in Santa Barbara. They are the rare type of people with endless enthusiasm and optimism. 

I figured one week of the Gustafson-Hammond team’s take-charge, problem-solving attitude would do me some good, relieving me temporarily of the rigors of residency. I considered the offer to drive the race car, and the opportunity to run well over 200 mph. The speed possibility was surreal. A week sitting out in the middle of nowhere, hanging out with my dad, sounded great, even if it rained. I bought the plane ticket to Salt Lake City to bake in the sun and drive a land speed car. Little did I know that I would be hooked from that point on. 

Seth and my dad have been racing land speed cars for the past 25 years at the Bonneville Salt Flats. Their team has achieved 13 records over 200 mph. Their success can be attributed to my dad’s unique skill at making motors go very fast, and to Seth’s fabrication ability. When Dad and Seth first asked me to drive for them, their team had not exceeded 300 mph. In accepting their offer, I questioned my common sense. 

The Bonneville Salt Flats are just east of the Nevada-Utah boarder, off Interstate 80. There isn’t any prize money or fame for people who race there. Instead, the pursuit is for a timed speed record and a hat. Yes, just a hat. For records over 200 mph, you join the 200 mph club and get a red hat. For records over 300 mph, you enter the 300 mph chapter and get a blue hat. Many racers spend thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours chasing those hats. Racers like my dad and Seth are extremely passionate in this pursuit. 

When I got to Bonneville that August, the temperature was over 100 degrees, as usual. The cockpit of the race car was tight, and I wondered how any of the guys fit in there since I was so squished. The team members tightened the five-point harness across my chest, making it even harder to breath. The heat was intense. Without my experience breathing behind a surgical mask, I’m not sure I could have kept calm enough to withstand the heat and the suffocating feeling of the helmet. 

On the start line, I could see the subtle curve of the earth. The track is five miles long, and you can watch the cars ahead disappear as they pass the mile markers. Motors were running all around, some loudly purring and others in obvious distress. 

It takes two people to secure the driver, start the race car, and shove it off the start line with a “push car.” As the driver, I was supposed to count to 10 before pulling away from the push car after the start. In the excitement, I counted only to two before stomping on the throttle and pulling away. 

The sound of the motor and the speed of the car were unbelievable—a complete adrenaline rush. The faster the car went, the smoother the ride got. I needed only about two minutes to complete the five-mile track. 

I didn’t set any records that first time, but two years later I was able to run the car to a new class record of 268 mph. My dad was very excited that I had joined the 200 mph club and earned a red hat.

Each year the mad scientists Seth and Lee crafted a new plan in pursuit of speed. After the addition of turbocharging in 2002, I raced in a new class with a two-way average of 302 mph. I became the second woman, behind Seth’s wife Tanis, to exceed the 300 mph mark. 

One of my jobs when I was not the driver was running the car’s computer for fuel injection, boost for the turbo, and data acquisition. Jamie Wagner, from Performance Solutions in Torrance, worked computer magic by manipulating fuel and air ratios and changing map settings for the boost in the car’s computer. I found it fascinating to work between a new-school computer gearhead and my dad, who had decades of experience and no computer. My dad would tell me the information that should be on the data-acquisition computer before I could extract it. 

The next year, 2003, I found my true racing love: motorcycles. After several attempts to convince my dad to “just throw my street bike in the race trailer with all the other stuff,” he finally agreed. (Funny, I’m still asking permission of my father!) He tinkered with the motor, having minimal motorcycle experience. He helped me run my Honda F4i to a top speed of 153 mph, well short of the 168 mph record. Clearly my street bike, even with its modified motor, wasn’t going to get anywhere close to the record. 

We continued to focus on the primary task at hand rather than my sideline interest in motorcycles. Our goal for 2003 was to push Seth over the 300 mph mark. By this time he was tired of hearing about the two women who were faster than him. The car ran beautifully, and Seth broke yet another record, this time over 300 mph. Our final goal for that year was to increase the speed with addition of more boost. With my dad in the passenger seat, I drove the push car off the start line as Seth pulled away from us on his last run. He shot out faster than ever before.

Somewhere about 325 mph, the car left the ground and crashed, pencil-rolling over the fourth mile of the five-mile track. EMTs on duty and paramedics who were part of the racing community stabilized Seth and loaded him into an ambulance. A helicopter was dispatched from Salt Lake City about 120 miles away. As the only doctor around, I drew on the medical training I had. Now we joke that Seth certainly didn’t need a pap smear. 

Being a physician during this event was a double-edged sword. I used my medical knowledge and skills while talking via radio to Salt Lake with my assessment of Seth’s condition. But I am a gynecologist, not a trauma physician. Lacking necessary equipment, I relied on basic ABC’s, musculoskeletal stabilization and neuro examination. I was very happy to see the real team helicopter in with IV medications and better airway management tools. Seth was flown to Salt Lake City for care. Each year on the crash anniversary Seth calls us and says thank you for looking after him. I thank God for looking after all of us.

After the crash, I thought that my dad and Seth, who had been running cars for over 40 years at Bonneville, would be done with racing. Instead, while Seth recovered, I think he was drawing up new race car plans. Meanwhile, my dad bought the car he’d always dreamed of running, a modified roadster (an open-top car with two seats). The two of them remodeled, rebuilt and had the roadster looking good by the following August, not missing a bit of race season. At the same time, they launched plans for a lakester (an open-wheeled car with a streamlined body). 

The roadster ran until 2008, when Seth and my dad introduced the new lakester, two years in fabrication. In its first two years, the lakester has been successful beyond their wildest dreams. This August, Tanis will run the car, chasing a record that will again make her the fastest woman at Bonneville. 

While Seth and Lee were introducing the lakester in 2008, I began my first real attempt at chasing a motorcycle record. My Honda CBR looks just like what you would buy at the dealership, but it’s been modified by Jamie. The current record is 194 mph and we have achieved 193 mph so far. Each year we learn more and try to go faster. 

Last year, my dad celebrated 50 years of racing by driving the lakester to a new record 300.311 mph, just squeaking past the prestigious 300 mph mark. He was happy to be done driving and has gladly resumed his motor-builder duties. 

I look forward to the time I spend with my dad in an arena that is truly his “happy place.” My mom and my two kids attend. With a background in biology and photography as well as racing, my husband Michael and his daughters explore not only the land speed world, but also give us insight into the amazing nature of Bonneville. In a world where families are often wrenched apart, I am truly thankful that we are still bonded together. What better person to go very fast with than your dad, the guy who has the skill set to make it happen!

 

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