Land Speed Record - From 39-24 To 600 Mph - SIGNED

Welcome to Land Speed Record – From 39.24 to 600 mph (1971) by Cyril Posthumus (Osprey) — a book about the most gloriously unnecessary human activity imaginable: taking a vehicle, pointing it at a long flat bit of earth, and deciding that the only sensible goal is to go faster than anyone has ever gone before, preferably while the machine is vibrating itself into philosophy.

The title alone is perfection. It starts at 39.24 (miles per hour, when speed was still something your trousers could reasonably contemplate) and rockets all the way to 600 mph, which is firmly in the territory of “this is not driving, this is controlled argument with physics.” It’s a century of men (mostly) building increasingly outrageous machines in order to shave tiny increments off a number, then celebrating those increments like they’ve just solved mortality. Which, in a way, they’re trying to.

Posthumus is exactly the right guide for this madness: knowledgeable, clear, and deeply appreciative of the peculiar blend of engineering, courage, and absolute stubbornness that land speed record attempts require. You’ll meet the evolving cast of characters: early pioneers in spindly contraptions, the interwar era of heroic bravado, and the jet-and-rocket age where “car” starts to mean “a missile with wheels and a hope.” Along the way you get the signature Osprey vibe: brisk, factual, enthusiast-friendly, with enough context to make the timeline feel like a story rather than a list of numbers.

Because the land speed record isn’t just about engines. It’s about surfaces (salt, sand, hard-packed earth), weather, tyres that don’t want to be tyres anymore, and the constant, simmering question: What happens if anything at all goes wrong at 500 mph? The answer is: nothing poetic. So every success is a triumph of planning, metallurgy, and nerve — plus the quiet acceptance that the margin for error has been reduced to something smaller than a polite excuse.

And there’s something oddly moving about it. Each new record-holder is part engineer, part daredevil, part obsessive accountant of velocity. The whole endeavour is a rolling monument to the human urge to exceed limits simply because they exist. It’s ridiculous, yes — but it’s also how we get progress: people trying hard things for reasons that are, frankly, half emotional.

Condition: Good, meaning this copy has been handled by someone who likely has strong feelings about turbines, streamlined bodywork, and the difference between a record attempt and a publicity stunt. It’ll show a little honest age, but it’s still perfectly readable and ready to do what it does best: make you nod thoughtfully while learning that, yes, someone once attempted 600 mph on a flat bit of nothing because that seemed like a good Saturday.

Perfect for:

• motorsport and engineering nerds,

• fans of heroic mechanical history,

• anyone who enjoys “why would you do that?” stories where the answer is “because faster,”

• and readers who like their non-fiction brisk, vivid, and full of numbers that make your eyebrows lift.

Sold by Crappy Old Books, naturally — because where else would a 1971 Osprey paperback about maximum speed end up, if not waiting patiently to accelerate the next reader into a happy spiral of turbines, salt flats, and glorious, purposeful lunacy.

Signed by three people, including Cyril Posthumus.

Keep browsing: See more Transport books Other books by Cyril Posthumus