Driver + Crew

Michael (Mike) Segorski

Late in September of 1946, I was born the 3rd of 4 children, to working parents, in the small upper peninsula town of Escanaba MI.

During those early 1950 years, my brother, sisters and most of my young friends enjoyed the sport of ice-skating. I was lucky enough to be exposed to and fell in love with speed skating. I was also blessed enough to train with a former Olympic speed skater. I was fascinated with just how fast a person can go on ice skates. so at a very early age I was hooked, as they say. I began racing on those ice skates in Escanaba, then touring other parts of the midwest, skating in meet races up to three miles in length.

As a youngster, my dad let me follow him into our garage where he taught me how to use mechanics tools. He gave me an understanding for each tool, It’s name and how it worked. He did this by asking for a particular size and type of tool or wrench, then I would look through his tool boxes to find and hand it to him, while he made repairs to cars. Through this type of hands on lesson, dad gave me the beginnings of a solid mechanical education and an urge to become inquisitive of how things worked. On my own, I learned the in’s and out’s of bicycles, toasters and lawn mowers. Not all of which worked completely or well when I had finished with them. Eventually, I worked my way into helping dad with making real repairs to family cars.

Along the way, I had my first driving lesson. It was when dad allowed me to steer while sitting on his lap. Being small I needed his boost up to see through the hoop of the steering wheel, over the dashboard and out the windshield. As we both gained confidence, a little ability and my legs got longer, he let me drive solo. The first time came and I clearly remember it being a beautiful fall day. We were driving out into the country Partridge hunting along the two rut road which lead to my great grandparents homestead. Dad stopped the car and asked if I wanted to drive. He certainly was reading my mind that day. It’s long past the statute of limitations to worry but we shot several birds through the passenger window of our old Ford that day and I as a nine year old got my greatest wish, to drive.

As a young teen I occasionally would borrow dad’s work car, taking it for joy rides, while mom and dad were away at bowling league, on Sunday nights. Let me confess my excuse here… this is a trait I learned from our oldest sister. I got busted one day when dad found a bent wheel hidden in a shed. He realized that the wheels on his car didn’t match and confronted me, of all people, about it. I confessed to taking the car while he wasn’t home and bending the wheel while sliding around an icy corner and plowing into a curbing. Later on, sister was also found out.

After a lot of pestering, my dad agreed to let me work with a non-running, 1947 Plymouth coupe. He guided me along as I pulled it apart and discovered that a blown head gasket and rust in a cylinder were keeping the little 6 cylinder from turning over and starting. Some friendly persuasion and penetrating oil got things moving again. I reassembled it with a new head gasket, some fresh gas and it actually started. In my mind, that the car would be mine when I turned 16 and got my drivers license, but, dad had other ideas and sold it as a runner. A short while later, for $7 dollars, he bought a 1949 Ford coupe, without an engine or transmission, plus holes in the floorboards large enough for a person to fall through. A friend sold him a working engine and broken transmission for another $10 bucks. This became MY first car and all for $17. Does the term, “Shade Tree Mechanic” come to mind… I sure learned plenty about the moving parts inside a 100 horsepower, Ford flathead engine and 3 speed transmission. At the time for $20 rebuilt transmissions could be had. Without a first gear synchro, I broke several of them.

I wan’t a particularly good student in school and it’s where I struggled to graduate with a C- or C average and because of this I didn’t aspire to attend a college. Although, I was pretty good in a hands on environment and had taken all of the available high school shop classes and avoided college prep classes. In spite of these shortcomings, I graduated high school. I received permission from my parents as a 17 year old to join the US Navy. Prior to signing up, I was offered and accepted admittance into a Navy school for Machinery Repairman. I really grew-up as a sailor during the mid 1960’s. Just prior to being honorably discharged, two life altering events happened. I married a California girl and I registered for admittance at a Los Angeles college where I wanted to pursue a degree in engineering. As a student I needed a job to support my growing family and remain as a student. My first job out of the Navy was working in an auto parts store as a delivery driver. One day, while making a delivery, I met the owner of a foreign car repair shop. Harry Nichol’s Ltd. He hired me on the spot. Very cool, being a young man working on more “movie star” cars of every type, including some serious race cars. Remember Steve McQueen or Kenny Miles, who lost his life while testing one of Carol Shelby’s little Cobras?

Eventually, a degree and two children came along, then another marriage and a second daughter, plus a long parade of jobs. So many that I’ve lost count. Even though I’ve had no money for a race car of my own I did get many opportunities to go fast. Eventually I bought a dirt bike or two and raced the wheels off of them. One of which I broke in two while racing across the high country of Southern California.

For most on my life I’ve run for the health and exercise of it. And along the way it became an obsession. As an adult I entered my first competitive running race. In no time at all, I’d increased the frequency and distances, running every day and often all night or all weekend. Soon, I was entering longer and more challenging races with distances of 10, 50, 100 miles or more. Initially I ran on roads but found the peacefulness of trails. Along the way I became an IronMan triathlete, running, biking and swimming internationally. I was competing all year around, running, skiing and snowshoe racing during the winter months. After hundreds and hundreds of races, and nearly 100,000 miles of training and race miles I had a career ending injury. After 30 or so years of competition, my surgeon said, “no more running for you Mike”. Well, as they say… there you go, I had hip replacement surgery. Yet the competitive itch remains.

Due to a series of service connected injuries I was pushed into retirement at 64 years of age. The world looked rather bleak. “I don’t work and I’m getting older” maybe it’s time to get a car… and from that, I discovered, land speed. And setting a record if I can.

I hold licenses from several race sanctioning bodies and have driven cars on twisty race tracks all around the country, however land speed is where my interests lie.

My dream is to go faster and I’ve had such a great and inspiring life, with my children, 47 years of work in my chosen field of manufacturing and having been friends with so many awesome people. Well, in April of 20199, I coaxed my 9006 Camaro up to 208.82mph in a standing start, mile race at Blytheville, Arkansas… but that’s not it. The world land speed record with this car is another 60 mph faster. I don’t think the record is out of reach, and neither do my crew. It isn’t out of reach.

“At this point the 9006 racing Camaro addiction has nearly drained my piggy bank and retirement savings.” I invite you to help me reach these goals by contributing money, product, labor or in any other way.

Please, reach out to me with whatever you think might help us to reach this world record.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my bio.

~Mike