High Energy Density per Volume of Air-Fuel Mixture Nitromethane (CH₃NO₂) has a unique chemical structure that allows more fuel to burn with a limited amount of oxygen. While gasoline requires a roughly 14.7:1 air-to-fuel ratio, nitromethane can burn with a ratio of about 1.7:1. This means much more fuel can enter the combustion chamber, resulting in a significant power boost. It provides less…

Top Fuel Cylinder head at Pomona Raceway

Until the last weekend in March, I had never made a pilgrimage to an NHRA Nationals event. I may never get to make one again. So I began my pilgrimage—as all pilgrims should—by walking. Each Nationals event begins with a track walk. Fans are invited to enter the track at the “burn-out” area, stroll past the starting lights, and then down the arrow-straight—but not tabletop level—track. Here we learn that drag strips are sticky.

No. I mean sticky. Not sticky like your mom’s kitchen floor. Sticky like glue at its tackiest set. You will not be doing this walk in flip-flops. A few folks in lace-up shoes were struggling. Of course, stickiness has a heat variable. We would later see tuner crews, folks who will precisely set the car’s timing, fuel mixture and clutch, measuring exactly how sticky the start is.

And that was not the only thing measured precisely. The libation sacrificed to the most powerful gods of speed is nitromethane. What you chemistry grads know as CH3NO2. None of the higher levels of drag racing use gasoline. Fuels have a stoichiometric ratio. Basically, this ratio means burning any given weight of fuel requires a corresponding weight of air—specifically oxygen—for complete combustion. The ratio of gasoline is 14.7:1. So completely burning a kilo of gasoline requires having 14.7 kilos of air in the mix. That’s a lot of air.

Pure nitromethane**, on the other hand, has a ratio of 1.7:1. That’s a lot less air. But even at that rate, a top fuel (nitromethane) dragster requires 1000 horsepower just to run the supercharger—an air pump that forces air into the engine. And, at that volume, exactly how much air needs to be pumped into the engine depends on exactly how dense that air is. So the crews need to know altitude, air temperature and grains of water—a measure of absolute humidity. These last two are variables and tuner crews adjust for them throughout the day.

Why so much precision? Nitromethane cars run on the ragged edge of destruction. During my day at the altar, at least one supercharger scoop, despite a Kevlar safety strap, was blown high above the end of the track. Since there are no sports involving igniting C4, top fuel drag racing might be the most explosive sport on the planet. On the other end of the spectrum, races are lost by thousands of a second. So, the tuners want to get maximum horsepower without accidentally pushing the motor to self-destruct. Air density matters. And not just with the engine. Top Fuel aerodynamics require a downforce several times the weight of the car. Too much, though, makes you slower. Too little makes the car squirrelly. A 330 mile per hour squirrel is a dangerous thing. Air density affects downforce and must be factored for.

This goes as well for the aforementioned track stickiness. The car’s clutch must be adjusted for an exact amount of wheel slippage at launch. Too little slippage and something in the drivetrain might break. Too much slippage and you are already thousandths behind your competitor at the 100’ mark. Your race may already be over.

And, yes, I know your objection. You know I wasn’t there to admire the precision. True. One reason for being there was the see Britanny Force strap herself into an 11,000 horsepower Top Fuel dragster, and, in less time than it takes for the average Tucsonan to puzzle out what the green left turn arrow means and start moving, travel nearly 1000 feet. Yowser!

And how did she do? Last year’s national champion was eliminated in the second round. In fact all of the class top qualifiers went home without trophies. The Wallies all went to mid-field qualifiers. You see, if all of that power and precision weren’t enough, races are single elimination. Dump the clutch, pop the tires, blow an engine, or react too slowly and there is no second chance. If you finish 1/1000 of a second behind the car in the other lane, you trailer your car and haul it home. The phrase “on any given Sunday” applies double to drag racing. Past success means nothing when the staging lights go from blue to yellow to green.

All of that alone quickens your breathing, raises your pulse rate, and sets you on the edge of your seat. But that’s still not exactly why you came to the altar. You came to hear the voices of the gods of speed. The voices vary with each form of racing. F1 is an alto scream. NASCAR is a rolling thunder. Indy Car is a berserk buzz. IMSA is a contralto cadence. But NHRA Top Fuel? Ah, well…

I decided to listen to the first heat without hearing protection. I wanted the full experience. Mistake. I would not call the 150 decibel launch painful. It is simply a sound that alters the world. It vibrates the stands enough to make you feel like the earth itself is shaking. It feels like it makes your skin ripple and your heartbeat change. Maybe it does. It doesn’t thrash your ears so much as making them seem like they are no longer a valid sensory input. A pair of Top Fuel dragsters leaving the starting line is a roar like no other. Just as Moses averted his face in the Sinai desert, I put my earplugs in. But ear pro or no, you cannot hear that roar and not want to hear it again. And that is the problem.

The track at Wild Horse Pass may not exist next March. It is now surrounded by casinos, hotels, and shopping centers. Its value to the well-heeled world is as a commercial development. Not that Wild Horse Pass doesn’t make money. During our day there I saw it make ungodly amounts of money. But it sits idle sometimes. Casinos rake in the cash 24/7. So the plan is to tear Wild Horse Pass down, to replace it with a cash cow that never sleeps. The same people build glass-floored, horseshoe shaped walkways over Grand Canyon. They would build a tram up Mt. Sinai. Nothing is sacred.

So my son and I started with the track walk. We stayed until the Wallies were handed out and the last invocations were spoken. Then we walked back to our car—covering more distance than the winners had raced that day. Our pilgrimage was over. Maybe never to be repeated. If not repeated, though, certainly never to be forgotten.