1924, Isle of Man
The time for the race had come. During the previous day's qualifying round, the Japanese team had prioritized safety and taken it slow, resulting in a mid-pack starting position for the final race. Their qualifying times were close, so Fuji No. 1 and Fuji No. 2 started side by side.
(The Isle of Man TT uses a time trial format, with two bikes starting every 10 seconds.)
The race began. One by one, the motorcycles roared to life. Finally, it was the Japanese team's turn to start.
"Let's go!"
"Yes, sister!"
Vroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!
The two Japanese bikes opened their throttles, engaging the clutch at 12,000 rpm. The rear tires, unable to handle the monstrous torque, momentarily spun out before regaining grip and launching forward.
The machines shot off with an ear-splitting roar.
The officials and spectators watching the Japanese team's start were stunned, as if the gates of hell had opened. Some, reminded of the artillery fire from the Great War, covered their ears and crouched on the ground, some even losing control of their bladders. Others fainted on the spot. The scene was one of utter chaos.
The bikes didn't just start—they were catapulted forward. The front wheels lifted off the ground, performing a wheelie. No one in the world had ever seen a start like this.
Shifting from first to second, then to third gear, the bikes momentarily lost power during each shift, causing the front wheels to dip slightly. But before the tires could touch the ground, the shift was complete, and the front wheels lifted again as the bikes accelerated.
The machines reached 100 km/h in 3.5 seconds and 200 km/h in 9 seconds.
Spectators standing a few hundred meters from the start line watched as the two bikes roared past at 250 km/h, just two meters away. The experience was unlike anything they had ever witnessed. Many fainted from the shock, and doctors and nurses, who were supposed to tend to injured riders, found themselves rushing to aid the spectators instead.
On the high-speed asphalt corners, the two bikes leaned so far that their knees nearly scraped the ground, racing at nearly 200 km/h. As they approached the next corner, they shifted their weight inward, hanging off the bikes. If there had been any riders close enough to follow, the sight would have been mesmerizing. Unfortunately, no one could keep up.
One elderly spectator, interviewed by a newspaper, described the bikes as "soul-reaping reapers" or "demon dragoons galloping through the wilderness."
The Straightaway
The straights on the Isle of Man are long. Johnson, who had secured pole position, was racing at his bike's top speed of 170 km/h.
"Heh heh, the top spot is mine!"
"...Vroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!"
From behind, a high-pitched exhaust note grew louder. It was the unmistakable sound of the Japanese team's engines.
"What the hell? Are they catching up?"
The sound grew closer and closer. Then—
Vroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!
The Doppler effect made the sound rise in pitch as the bikes approached and drop as they sped away.
At that moment, the Fuji bikes were traveling at 280 km/h—faster than any aircraft of the time. It was an instant overtake.
The race ended with the Japanese team securing a 1-2 finish, as expected.
Post-Race Controversy
The race organizers were in an uproar after reviewing the recorded lap times.
"What?! An average speed of 190 km/h? And they hit 280 km/h on the straights?"
"That's more than double the average speed of the third-place finisher!"
"Cheating! They must have tampered with the engine displacement!"
Amid accusations of foul play, the organizers decided to dismantle the engines for inspection. However, even if the displacement had been doubled, achieving 280 km/h with the technology of the time was impossible.
"A water-cooled engine? How did they make it so compact? What kind of technology is this?"
"Look at the tachometer. It goes up to 14,000 rpm. Is this for real?"
"The tires are melted. Do tires even melt like this?"
"The brakes are hydraulic. And they've used aluminum parts everywhere."
Everyone gathered around the bikes, marveling at their design.
Finally, the cylinder heads were removed, and the bore and stroke were measured. Each cylinder was 174 cc (totaling 348 cc for the two-cylinder engine), well within the regulations.
"How?! How can this displacement produce so much power?!" Johnson shouted.
"Well, my superior once said, 'Racing is a moving laboratory,' quoting Soichiro. I guess this is the result of relentless pursuit," Amamano replied with a smirk.
After the Race
The Japanese team was invited to numerous parties hosted by motorsport-loving aristocrats. Amamano and Takaya found themselves receiving marriage proposals from the second and third sons of noble families.
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A/N: Thank you for reading Chapter 37!
They've won! What's next for Amamano and the team?
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