Description

MISS CENTURY 21 (U-60) UNLIMITED HYDROPLANE

FULLY BUILT AND READY TO DISPLAY MUSEUM QUALITY SHIP MODEL

Dimension approx.: 26″ L x 11″ W x 5.5″ H
The model is already built. THIS IS NOT A MODEL SHIP KIT
Authentic gauges, dials and chrome steering wheel on dash
Authentic gauges, dials and chrome steering wheel on dash
Brass Propellers and rudders

She first touched the water in 1959, a long, lean streak of varnished ambition built in the echo of roaring fighter planes and the restless spirit of Seattle’s racing culture. The crew that shaped her — Jack Ramsey’s men working from a Ted Jones design — knew they were crafting more than another Unlimited hydroplane. They were building the next chapter in the Associated Grocers dynasty, a machine meant to carry the legacy of Miss Thriftway into a new era.

Inside her hull, the heart of a warbird waited. The Rolls‑Royce Merlin V‑12, once the engine of Spitfires and Mustangs, now sat reversed in its mount, its carburetor pointing skyward like a periscope. It was heavier than the American Allisons most teams used, but its two‑stage supercharger gave it a ferocity no one could ignore. When the Merlin lit, Miss Century 21 didn’t just start — she awakened.

For two seasons she raced under the Thriftway name, steady and competitive, a familiar orange flash on the nation’s rivers and lakes. But in 1961, Seattle was preparing for the Century 21 Exposition, and Willard Rhodes saw an opportunity. The boat was reborn with a new name — Miss Century 21 — and with it came a sense of purpose. She would be the sleek, thunderous ambassador of the future Seattle wanted to show the world.

Bill Muncey, already a legend in the making, took the cockpit with the calm confidence of a man who understood both the danger and the glory of Unlimited racing. Ramsey remained at his side, tuning the Merlin with the precision of a jeweler. Together, they turned Miss Century 21 into a weapon.

The 1961 season became her finest hour. On the Potomac River at the Presidents Cup, she tore across the course at over 108 mph, leaving a curtain of spray and a stunned field behind her. At Coeur d’Alene’s Diamond Cup, she swept all three heats, a clean, commanding performance that confirmed what the sport already suspected — she was the boat to beat.

But time moves quickly in hydroplane racing. New hulls, new sponsors, new technologies arrived, and by 1963 the once‑fearsome Miss Century 21 had become a veteran in a sport that aged machines faster than men. When she finally retired, she did so with dignity, her racing scars earned honestly across five seasons of competition.

Today, she rests in Seattle’s Museum of History and Industry, preserved not as a relic but as a reminder of a moment when the city’s dreams, its fair, and its racing heritage all converged in the shape of a single hydroplane. In photographs, she still looks ready to leap forward — the Merlin quiet now, but the memory of her roar lingering over Lake Washington like a distant echo of the Century 21 future she once carried on her hull.