The Fast and the Curious

It was a measured risk Fossett decided he could accept. He prided himself on his sporting versatility, with records set in five sports, and a driving record would further diversify his r¿sum¿. Plus, the land speed record came with more historical significance than any of Fossett's previous accomplishments. With one blistering race across the earth, he could fortify his legacy.

"With any undertaking as big as this, there is a significant measure of risk," Fossett said last summer. "But we are talking about holding one of the world's absolute records. That's a significant reward."

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They never imagined the project would become so complicated. When Ahlstrom first visited Rio Vista and surveyed the car in Breedlove's shop, the scientist estimated it already was 75 percent ready to run. With six men and 12 months, Ahlstrom told Fossett, the car could be back in record-setting condition.

Ahlstrom, 46, moved the car into the warehouse near his house in Sparks, where he started to find problems faster than his team of welders and mechanics could fix them. He hired five people . . . then seven . . . then nine . . . then 12. They ordered a jet engine from a shop that was due in January, but the shop didn't finish it until April. Fuel leaked out of the 110-gallon gas tank. Tangled wires caused steering controls to malfunction.

Fossett sent daily e-mails to the warehouse and visited it about once every two weeks, but he largely entrusted the project to Ahlstrom. In a sport once dominated by hot rodders, scientists had engineered the last three land speed record cars, and Ahlstrom fit that qualification. His father had been a professor of aeronautics and an executive at Boeing, and Ahlstrom had worked on airplanes and other projects for the Department of Defense. He wore tight jeans and leather jackets. Sometimes, lost in thought, he drew mathematical equations on napkins or twirled a lug nut between his middle and forefinger like a cigarette.

"I despise being wrong," Ahlstrom said, "and I've been wrong a couple of times each week during this project. In everything we do, we have been willing to make a mistake and change direction. Nobody has written the guidebook on how to do this. We're the test monkeys."

Every problem Ahlstrom resolved led to five new ones. His team searched for a place to drive the car and eventually settled on a dry lake bed spanning 13 miles at the end of a dirt road in central Nevada. That meant a cook needed to be hired for Fossett and the team, because no restaurants or stores existed nearby. Two crew members spent six months building a custom-fitted trailer to transport the car. The trailer ended up weighing too much under Nevada highway restrictions, so another team member coordinated a special driving route with the help of state officials.

Just when Ahlstrom thought, finally, that his team would be able to make the location work, he learned that 12 endangered snowy plover birds sometimes nested in the lake bed, which meant the car would only be allowed into the area during certain months. Also, Ahlstrom would have to find 10 people willing to spend two weeks clearing the surface of rocks and pebbles that posed a threat to the car. More officials would need to be hired later to certify the course and time record attempts.

Ahlstrom figured it would take between 50 and 70 practice runs to get the car in shape for a record attempt. He planned three weeklong testing sessions with an idle month between each to make adjustments to the car. Fossett agreed to begin driving the car at about 200 mph and build steadily to 700 before attacking the record.

While he waited for his team to ready the car, Fossett kept himself busy with other pursuits. He traveled to four continents to fly his glider plane, chasing the best wind patterns. He bought a helicopter with his sights set on records for that aircraft, and he began conceiving a submarine capable of exploring undiscovered ocean depths. But Fossett also made it clear the car remained his priority. "As soon as it's ready to drive," he said during a telephone call in August, "I'll be there to drive it."

"More coordination and effort goes into this than you could ever imagine, and Steve was appreciative of that," Ahlstrom said. "Sometimes he got anxious. All of us did. But the last thing he wanted was to drive a car that wasn't ready. He would call and I would explain the setbacks, and he usually understood."