Robert

The quest to merge pinnacle open-wheel racing with aviation-grade thrust began in the most chaotic way imaginable. Acquiring a Formula 1 chassis—purportedly a veteran of the Monaco Grand Prix—is a feat of acquisition that most collectors would treat with reverence. However, when the goal is to shoehorn a J85 jet engine into a frame designed for precision aerodynamics, the rules of conventional restoration go out the window. Without a powertrain, the F1 car served as a high-stakes rolling shell, waiting for a heart that could deliver far more than the standard V6 turbo hybrid output. To bridge the gap between automotive engineering and aerospace propulsion, Robert, a seasoned jet engine expert, arrived to oversee the initial testing of the J85 Jet Engine. These turbines are temperamental relics of 1970s vintage, requiring massive battery voltage to achieve the high-speed rotation necessary for a clean start. Robert warned that low voltage leads to slow spinning, which inevitably dumps raw, flaming diesel out the exhaust—a phenomenon known as a hot start. At a replacement cost of $25,000 to $35,000 for a used unit, the margin for error was razor-thin. The initial tests of the jet dragster, the donor vehicle for the project, were deceptively successful. The afterburner produced a terrifying wall of heat that torched the epoxy flooring of the shop, signaling the raw power available. The controls are a dizzying array of toggles for igniters, smoke, and the critical afterburner engagement. Despite the complexity, Cody Detwiler pushed the machine through mud and onto local roads, ignoring the complaints of neighbors and the inherent instability of a vehicle with one inch of ground clearance. The machine felt invincible, muffling its own sound as it approached 90% throttle, but the mechanical hubris was building toward a catastrophic failure. The turning point came during an ill-advised off-road hill climb. In an attempt to protect the engine from dust, the team used Zip Ties to secure plywood shielding to the floor of the dragster. As Cody throttled up to 100%, the immense vacuum of the intake—a force capable of moving 7 trillion units of air—simply sucked the plywood and zip ties directly into the turbine. The engine choked instantly, but the fuel system continued to dump propellant into the white-hot chamber. Within seconds, the $49,000 machine was engulfed in flames while rolling backward down a grassy slope. The resolution was a frantic scramble involving twenty fire extinguishers and the eventual arrival of five fire trucks and local law enforcement. The fire department found a scene of total mechanical carnage: melted fuel lines, a scorched turbine, and a field nearly claimed by the blaze. While the financial loss was staggering, the technical post-mortem revealed that the engine might have survived the internal ingestion because the plywood blocked the airflow so effectively it prevented a full internal meltdown. The scorched aura of the engine now serves as a grim badge of honor for the next phase of the F1 Build. Precision is never optional when dealing with turbines. The lesson learned here is that in high-performance builds, the smallest component—a single plastic zip tie—is just as critical as the primary powerplant. Tyler, the lead mechanic, now faces the Herculean task of disassembling the charred J85 to its last bolt to ensure the structural integrity of the shafts and bearings before it ever meets the F1 chassis. Respecting the engineering means acknowledging that shortcuts don't just cost time; they cost the entire build.