Abstract
The notion of “record” suggests, by definition, absolute authority in any given matter. Likewise, the land speed record marks the fastest among the fastest—a record among measures. It could be argued that underlying the quest for the land speed record is also a quest for the vastest, flattest, longest, smoothest, and most accessible terrain possible. Generic as this notion of landscape is suggested to be, as speeds approached 300 mph in the 1930s, the number of possible venues (natural or man-made) to race on became fewer as well. With its perfectly flat elevation across distances so great that the curvature of the earth becomes visible to the naked eye, the flats of Bonneville in western Utah reflect the golden age of this chase for the land speed record. The salt flats of Bonneville were reinvented from an inhospitable landscape much feared as early as the 1850s by westbound settlers traveling to California, into a racing site—mapped and understood through ever-increasing measures of speed. This article argues that racing constitutes a sort of idealization of the site and its particular resources, and that consequently the activities of racing and the events of record setting are in fact entirely connected to a greater sense of the landscape in both space and time. In recognizing the potential of the flats as a natural surface to race on, a mutually beneficial relationship between technology, human ambition, and a deep respect for the landscape and its geology is forged. It is through racing on the site that an exceptional record of human activity is constructed.
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