They’re already setting up camp in the baking sun, on a white sheet of ground that stretches out miles to the horizon. Soon, behind temporary fencing, small knots of spectators will join professional auto engineers and amateur speed freaks in their annual pilgrimage.

Since 1935, when British motorist Malcolm Campbell broke the 300-mile-per-hour barrier on Utah’s Bonneville Salt Flats, this huge, prehistoric lakebed has become Woodstock for motorheads. They come to the stark Flats to chase the same goal: speed. Raw velocity. Pure, unadulterated, fast-as-you-can-possibly-go-and-hope-not-to-die speed.

The first speed runs took place wherever teams pitched their tents. But by 1949, a standard course was set, and the records for 300, 400, 500, and 600 m.p.h. were all broken there. During the annual Bonneville Speed Week (August 11 to 17 this year), a line of unusual vehicles—from full sedans to conveyances consisting of little more than wheels and a jet engine—does timed runs in each direction, each contender hoping to capture a speed record.

But in an age of global climate change and carbon awareness, why should we care about the fastest anything? Spewing copious amounts of burned fuel, most of the record contenders are far from street-legal; they’d never pass any state’s emissions test. And the last land speed record, of 763 m.p.h. (that’s supersonic, by the way), was set more than 10 years ago. What brings the likes of Ford Motor to the Flats, to hang out with hot-rodders and thrill seekers?

Beyond the laurels for Fastest Vehicle Ever, teams compete for scores of other land speed records. Diesel cars, production cars, motorcycles, and many other vehicle classes have expanded the scope of the racing; the latest flurry of interest is in alternative-fuel technologies. Ford is running in the company of lesser-known teams that are trying to bring public awareness to eco-technology. They’re the ones that demonstrate that even alternatives can be . . . well, fast. Call it green speed.

Fifty years ago, speed was what sold passenger cars. These days, safety, technology, and better environmental stewardship tip the balance. That’s what brings the emissions-free Ford Fusion Hydrogen 999, a highly modified sedan, to the Flats. Ford’s engineers designed it; Ballard Power Systems contributed the fuel cell that powers its electric motor; and it was built by Roush Racing, fabricators of many a race-winning car.

The team wants to demonstrate that a car powered by hydrogen fuel cells can be fast and sexy—and garner enough attention to offset the cost (up to $1 million in time and materials) of creating this very special-purpose model. Its makers also want to understand how to create fuel cells with enough power to overcome the much higher aerodynamic drag that occurs at speeds of more than 100 m.p.h., where today’s fuel-cell test vehicles top out.

On the outside, the 999 looks like Ford’s standard midsize Fusion sedan, lowered and sporting flashy racing paint. If it grabs the record, consumers can easily make the connection to a car they can see and buy at their Ford showroom—just like the old Nascar saying “Win on Sunday; sell on Monday.” Underneath, though, like most record contenders, it’s custom-built to go seven miles in roughly three minutes, targeting a speed of more than 200 m.p.h.

At the moment, there’s no speed record for production-bodied cars powered by fuel cells. Ford may be able to claim a first: cutting-edge green technology in a model that looks just like one you can buy at your Ford dealership—a veritable P.R. bonanza.

New categories have kept other alt-fuel teams in the game. Last year, for example, a privately funded British venture set a new record—more than 300 m.p.h.—for a diesel-powered vehicle. (Diesels use less fuel, and therefore emit less carbon, than comparable gasoline engines.) Striking in appearance, the bright yellow, needle-shaped car was more than 40 feet long, providing the best aerodynamic stability at speed. (“Getting airborne” is the prime cause of injury and death to those attempting land speed records.)

Green speed isn’t new, though. An electric model, in fact, set the very first land speed record. That was back in December 1898, and the speed was all of 39 m.p.h. By 1906, the record was up to 128 m.p.h., achieved this time by a steam car, the last vehicle to hold the record without burning oil-based fuels in an engine. Records changed hands often at the beginning of the century and again in the ’30s and ’60s—but less frequently as it became more challenging to squeeze out more speed and the cost of building a contender soared into the tens of millions of dollars. (By the way, the record for an electric car now stands at 315 m.p.h., set in 2004 by Ohio State University’s “Buckeye Bullet.”)

The British held the land speed record continuously from 1924 to 1963, and their pilots are national heroes: John Cobb, father and son Malcolm and Donald Campbell, and Richard Noble. Britain still generates a disproportionate share of record contenders, including the unlikely “world’s fastest estate car”—that’s British for station wagon. In 2003, an MG wagon that might otherwise have been ferrying young rugby players to their matches went through the traps at a remarkable 225 m.p.h.

Humans have always pushed to accomplish feats never achieved before. Maybe it’s wired into our psyche to ask questions like, Can you really build a car that can be driven at 800 m.p.h.? Is it possible to engineer a vehicle that stays in one piece, keeps its wheels on the ground, and remains controllable beyond the speed of sound?

And so the annual trek to the Flats continues. Like the cars we drive, the event simply adapts to the modern world. Perhaps one day the speediest models will run on batteries, or a fuel cell, rather than burning petroleum. Sure, right now that’s a vision for crazy dreamers—but who do you think comes to Bonneville every year?