Daytona's Speed Carnival

For a week the sands of Daytona Beach, Fla. were gullied and pockmarked. Then, as time began to run out a fresh northeast wind spanked the flood tide higher to pound the beach into a smooth speedway.

From the motel row along Daytona's Atlantic Avenue came the Detroit task force that had been sweating out the tensions of inactivity, and there began a week of fierce and resourceful automotive competition.

For the spectators it was indeed a spectacle: magnificently prepared passenger cars speeding against the backdrop of the green Atlantic, stock racing cars hurrying along the sands and sliding into the treacherous curves of Daytona's beach and road course. But to the giants of Detroit who moved onto the beach with unprecedented strength and determination, Daytona was a battleground in the climactic days of the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing, Inc.

They were days of triumph for Chevrolet and Pontiac, of shocked surprise and eventual success for Chrysler, and of reward for Rambler, in the Speed Weeks' core events—the top-speed and acceleration trials for passenger cars.

Rivalries aside, the beach events reinforced these conclusions: that American cars with or without optional speed equipment are extremely fast, with phenomenal acceleration qualities because of their high torque at medium engine speeds; and that Detroit is becoming ever more involved in motor sports—a fact that friends of auto racing enthusiastically appreciate.

Ironically, the automobile industry is uncertain how to capitalize on the performances at Daytona. With congressional investigators now exploring the subject of automotive safety, the industry is moving very cautiously. Early last week the word was that General Motors would veer away from the theme of speed in its advertising after its current Chevrolet schedule ended, but after the Pontiac successes at Daytona the dictum was relaxed.

It is unwise, of course, to read too much into the beach competition. Top-speed trials are a traditional and exciting part of motor sport, but the speeds reached at Daytona would be illegal on the highways. Acceleration tests are more useful (better pickup for greater passing safety is the usual example), yet neither kind of trial provides a well-rounded judgment of a car for the noncompetitive driver.

Also, most of the beach victories are won by meticulously tuned cars equipped with high-performance extras—cars that the average driver does not shop for (although more and more of these machines are going to keen drivers).

Perhaps the most meaningful test this year for the average driver, then, was the Flying Mile run for Big Three cars fitted with a single carburetor and no special speed equipment. Chevrolet, which received plaudits for the effectiveness of its V-8 engine, swept the first three places. A Ford was fourth, and the single Plymouth entry eighth. The winning Chevvy averaged an eye-opening 118.460 mph, and even the slowest among 12 entries did 107.930, which is not dawdling.

It was not as a testing ground for the less powerful cars, however, but as a vigorously contested sporting event for the fastest that the Speed Weeks had the most impact.