Significantly more people in the world know about Mickey Thompson’s death than his life. The unconscionable contract killing of one of Southern California hot rodding’s favored sons and his beloved wife over a business merger gone awry was a dark cloud hanging over the beautiful sunshine that was his long and illustrious career. Mickey might have been the most influential figure in SoCal hot rodding history, and he pushed every day to break new ground. Whatever you know about him, you don’t know enough, and Mickey Thompson: The Fast Light And Tragic Death Of A Racing Legend is the book you need to read to fix that.
Countless speed records are attributed to him; he was the first man to break the 400 MPH barrier, he pushed innovation at the Indianapolis 500 and in desert racing, and he invented stadium truck racing. Mickey moonlighted as a journalist. He ate burgers and drank Cokes like they were going out of style. He developed innovative engine, suspension, tire, and safety products. He ran and promoted racing events all over the country. Each of those steps in Mickey’s journey could have been an entire career for mere mortals, but Thompson was never satisfied with just one thing.
If you know one thing about Thompson, it’s probably that he was a speed seeker at Bonneville. Erik Arneson, author of this sprawling biography, probably could have dedicated an entire tome to Mickey’s time on the salt, but in the vastness of his career, the 400 mile per hour effort earned just a single chapter. It is, admittedly, a 38-page chapter, but a chapter nonetheless.
The impression I get of Mickey reading this book is that he was deeply committed to the church of going fucking fast. He was a complex man, and maybe not the best dad in the world to his children, spending a lot of his time travelling to races or working on race machines in his sprawling hot rodding empire. He was a successful businessman, and didn’t suffer fools lightly. He might have been a brash asshole, but he’d never do you dirty. I think Arneson successfully painted the picture of the kind of guy Mickey was. I’m not sure I would have liked him, but I damn sure would have respected him. And I do.
I think Arneson was successful in his telling of Thompson’s life. It’s a well-written testament to a life lived pedal to the metal. Each chapter is crafted in an exciting, but not overly-dramatized way. I don’t think Arneson had to embellish much to make this story interesting, because Mickey kicked all kinds of ass everywhere he went, but it’s a succinctly and elegantly crafted narrative.
At just shy of 300 pages, the book is one you might be able to put down in a weekend. I read one chapter per night over the last couple of weeks, and I was always a little bit sad to be closing the book, wanting to read onward. Rave reviews of books often use the trope “I couldn’t put it down.” I could put it down, but I didn’t want to.
After The Unfair Advantage, I think Mickey Thompson just rocketed to second place in my all-time favorites automotive book list. While it came out fifteen years ago (we even reviewed it back then), and it’s out of print now, you can grab it on e-book for ten bucks. I found my copy at a Half Price Books, and it was well worth it just for the photos.
Overall, it’s a great book. Go read it.
