A Brief Recounting of Alexey Ildutov and His Rocket-Powered Unimotorcycle
Published in Drive Tasrefully Magazine Issue #4
The sky is the color of frozen granite, as is the snow-covered ground. For as far as the eye can see, mechanical parts, metal scraps, and shells of cars lay half-embedded in the frozen earth like the carcasses of some long-extinct industry. After coming to grips with the expanse of it, a single point of movement catches the eye: a solitary figure digging among the scrap, its body entombed in heavy clothing to protect it from temperatures as inhospitable as the end of the world.
This is not the opening to some post-apocalyptic movie, it’s an old Volga automobile dumping ground in the city of Togliatti, Russia. We’re here because Alexey Ildutov is building himself a rocket-powered sled.
As a boy, Alexey dreamed of becoming a pilot, but gave up that hope after failing the flight school eye exam. Like so many young men growing up in the world’s aging industrial cities, Alexey felt trapped in a life he didn’t imagine for himself–uncommonly intelligent, perhaps, certainly bored, reaching for bigger things but finding few ways out. Now 29 years old, Alexey still lives with his parents. It’s a situation he calls “unpleasant.” But his bleak surroundings aren’t enough to dampen his imagination, so Alexey spends most of his time in his basement workshop, building art from scrap. In this case, he’s bringing his youthful passion for the fighter jets down to earth by building a jet-powered unimotorcycle. If you’re wondering what that is, you’re not alone: it’s a one-wheeled, half-motorcycle, half-sled contraption as complex and seriously dangerous as it is whimsical. Alexy’s goal is to finish in time for the annual Snow Dog Rally, a contest for unimotorcycles that brings mad scientists like Alexey to the frozen outskirts of Togliatti for tinkering, partying, speed runs, and lots of Russian vodka. The winner receives a large knife.
Alexey’s interest in jet engines goes back a few years, but his attempts to build one haven’t always been successful. His first was assembled from scrap parts and a donated rocket nozzle. Progress was slow, and Alexey’s friends were skeptical to say the least. And when the engine did finally fire, his first attempt to attach it to a unimotorcycle was catastrophic. Using sandbags to mimic his bodyweight, the rocket sled lurched forward, throwing the sandbags “like cannonballs,” he recalls. As for the vehicle: all that was left was a large crater, the engine having buried itself 2 meters underground. Alexi pauses after the recounting, and then adds, “I shudder to think what would have happened had I been on that!”
Alexey’s hometown of Togliatti is an automotive manufacturing hub. Like Detroit, one would think, but ironically its assigned American “sister city” is Flint, Michigan, the infamous city whose poisoned water ruined the lives of so many residents. Bad water may not be part of Togliatti’s history, but the city is built around the principle of efficient manufacturing–you won’t see many postcards of the local flora. The AvtoVAZ factory has dominated the city since the 60s. Vehicles are in the city’s DNA; most of them, however, aren’t jet-powered.
After rebuilding the unimotorcycle, Alexey’s second test began well but ended with a stuck throttle, the engine continuing to wind up, howling, and exploded, scattering debris across a 700 square meter area and tearing the engine’s precious turbine to pieces. Undaunted, and with the support of a growing base of supporters, Alexey returned to Togliatti’s frozen scrapyards to start over yet again, this time deciding to build his own turbojet by hand, a seemingly ridiculous plan, given their complexity. He reconditioned a turbine he unearthed at the scrapyard, along with sourcing many decommissioned aircraft parts. With higher-quality bits and a painstaking attention to assembly, Alexey redesigned and rebuilt the engine, hoping to achieve even greater power than before–a decision that might’ve been less explosion-prone but clearly would require greater heaps of bravery to actually straddle the thing for a speed run.
If Alexey’s project seems a bit nuts, The Snow Dog Rally, where the jet is designed to run, is it’s own kind of madness. The concept of a unimotorcycle was born in Florida, which should be no surprise to anyone. The vehicle’s formula dictates that it can have only one wheel and an engine; skids are allowed for balance, and brakes are equipped according to the builder’s sense of adventure. Although unimotorcycle events are held in several countries, The Snow Dog Rally feels uniquely Russian, perhaps due to attendees' total disregard for the weather’s sub-zero Fahrenheit temperature, and the sheer volume of alcohol they consume. The event is at once a product of and commentary on its setting: a 21st Century party on the edge of a 20th Century industrial city; repurposing an industry’s monotone cast-offs to make more colorful the lives of its participants. If Alexey is making art from scrap, The Snow Dog Rally is making performance art from civilization.
Finally, after two years of trials and failures, close calls and near-misses, Alexey’s jet-powered unimotorcycle is ready to run at Snow Dog. He may not be the first Mad Max-MacGyver to build a jet engine out of scrap, or even to strap it to something completely absurd and ride it. But these kinds of stories aren’t about world-firsts; they’re about personal-firsts. Alexey’s was a mission that began the moment he failed his flight-school eye exam. His expression could’ve taken many forms; his journey so personal the vehicle itself may as well be imaginary. But of course, this jet-powered unimotorcycle is very real. And irrespective of his internal motivating factors, Alexey succeeds when it really matters: not only does his home-made jet spark to life, it carries him to a record-setting run, only sliding to a stop long after its fuel is exhausted, because Alexey’s sense of adventure inspired him to fit no brakes at all.