Yahoo Autos Driving Honda's 150-MPH Lawn Mower Is a Scary-Fast Thrill Ride
The revs are at the limiter before you can blink, but this isn't your typical drag race. This is Honda's Mean Mower V2, and it's the fastest lawn mower in the world.
You may not have been aware, but the battle for the speediest landscaping machine has been ongoing-and fraught with controversy. Honda just set a Guinness World Record for quick acceleration on a lawn tractor-from zero to 100 mph in just 6.29 seconds, and an unofficial 150 mph in testing.
Although Honda offers riding mowers in Europe and both push and robotic mowers in the States, it does not plan to offer a $100,000, 150-mph version in your local home-improvement store. So when the offer came in to make some high-speed passes of our own in the one-off record setter at the Honda Proving Center in Cantil, California, before it goes back across the pond, well, only a sensible person with a strong sense of self-preservation would turn that down.
Honda had the record previously in 2014 with its original Mean Mower, a less aggressively modified riding tractor that put down a 116-mph average top speed at a test track in Spain, obliterating the previous lawn-mower record of 87.8. Then the cheating started.
A Norwegian team backed by Viking-Stihl set a new record in Oslo, a 134-mph run with a lawn-mowerish vehicle powered by a 408-hp LS engine out of a Corvette. It shouldn't have counted, feels Team Dynamics manager James Rodgers, whose team built and tested both versions of the Mean Mower for Honda U.K.
"It was basically a fully caged dragster with a mower deck bolted on," Rodgers said.
After that, Guinness changed the rules to require any lawn-mower records be set by something that can cut grass and looks like it can cut grass. Rodgers then convinced the bosses at Honda to reclaim the title-it was all about bragging rights.
At first glance, the Mean Mower V2 doesn't look too different from the Honda HF2622 riding mower on which it is based. Both are stoplight red with a silver grass catcher, a slotted metal bumper, and a slim, circular cutting deck. But after a closer inspection, you see that these cutting blades are reinforced with carbon fiber, and the grass bag hides an aluminum radiator.
The ground-scalping stance is due to a one-off tubular chassis made of TiG-welded T45 steel, an alloy specifically chosen for its combination of strength and flex because the frame acts as both skeleton and suspension. The low crouch is accentuated by gold-anodized 10-inch wheels wrapped in Hoosier slick tires.
Then there's the powerplant. Forget turtle-to-rabbit speed controls; this monster goes rabbit to rocket, propelled by a CBR1000 four-cylinder out of Honda's top sport bike, making close to 200 horsepower and backed by a wet-clutch six-speed driving a solid rear axle. Who wouldn't want to go 150 mph on that?
Oh, wait a second: there doesn't seem to be a roll bar. Nor seatbelts, for that matter. Just a narrow carbon-fiber seat so close to a Sparco steering wheel that you don't sit down behind it so much as undulate around it into a driving position best described as "hippie birthing squat-recline."
That's it. It's just you and a foot or two of plastic tractor bodywork against the wind.
"I don't want to scare you guys," said Rodgers. "But this is not like a car. If it goes, you will not catch it. It will dig a hole, put you in that grave, and cover you over before you know it."
With that pep talk, and a stern reminder that we were to start in second gear only, shift only once to third, and under no circumstances go past our coned-off quarter-mile or attempt to brake hard at speed because "it will lock up all four tires and pack you into the footwell," we trooped outside and wiggled into motorcycle leathers.
"Have you ever driven this?" I asked Rodgers. All the demo drives were being done by Team Dynamics engineer Craig Smith.
"I'm never going in it," Rodgers answered, handing me a helmet. "Ready?"
I folded myself into the seat like an egg into batter. Rodgers and Smith hovered around, checking tire pressures and resetting the data recorder. Rodgers gave me the thumbs up, and I eased out the clutch, rolled to the start cone, and floored it.
The revs go up like bottle rockets. I miss the shift. I'm at the finish. There's a lot of sand in my eyes. I clutch to a slow roll and turn around for the return pass. This time it's perfect. The upshift punches me gently in the stomach. My shaking foot stays on the accelerator: 90, 99, 105, 112, out of room.
I want to go again. It would be a dumb way to die, riding a land-speed lawn mower. But it's a hell of a way to live.
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