ROAD RACE OF CHAMPIONS

Wynn and Lonny vow to become champions,

build their own Formula Vee racer, and set out on

the torturous trail of southern circuit competition.

They start off well when novice Lonny wins a

hillclimb and Wynn snares a sponsorship. But

events suddenly take a sinister turn for the worse.

First their sponsor pulls out, influenced by a

rivals dirty trick, leaving the boys without travel money. The biggest worry, though, is a periodic

malfunction of their car. It endangers Wynns life and defies Lonnys mechanical ability. Encouraged, however, by their friends Inky Larsson and Nancy-

Rae Eubanks, they race at Savannah, Talladega,

Palm Beach, and Daytona, barely scraping together

enough points to qualify for the gala Road Atlanta

event. Their quest for victory takes a bizarre twist

when the girls, suspecting sabotage, set out to

investigate a strange series of mishaps. What

happens after that, especially at the final Road Race

of Champions, will provide racing buffs with never-

to-be-forgotten thrills.

WYNN AND LONNY RACING BOOKS

The Mexicali 1000

Road Race of Champions

GT Challenge

Gold Cup Rookies

Dead Heat at Le Mans

The Midnight Rally

Wynn and Lonny Racing Books

ROAD RACE OF

CHAMPIONS

BY

ERIC SPEED

GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers New York

COPYRIGHT 1975 BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PUBLISHED SIMULTANEOUSLY IN CANADA

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 74-1899

ISBN: 0-448-11791-6 (Trade Edition)

ISBN: 0-448-13221-4 (Library Edition)

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I FORMULA FEVER 1

II A MEAN HILLCLIMB 12

III LUCKY LONNY 23

IV GETTING IT TOGETHER 34

V A DIRTY TRICK! 45

VI DRAFT AND SLINGSHOT 54

VII SABOTAGE! 65

VIII THE OLD AIRSTRIP 73

IX CHARLIES DECISION 81 X SWAY BAR TROUBLE 91

XI A GRATEFUL FLYER 101

XII SURPRISE AT SAVANNAH 112

XIII A DARING THEFT 126

XIV RAIN TIRE STRATEGY 139

XV CAUGHT IN THE ACT 149

XVI A STARTLING DISCOVERY 156

XVII VICTORY CIRCLE 167

ROAD RACE OF

CHAMPIONS

1

CHAPTER I

Formula Fever

Lonny and I want to be champions, Wynn Redford said earnestly. Thats why were going to build a Formula Vee.

And race it at Road Atlanta, Lonny Morris added. We got lots of experience in California, Bud. What do you think?

It was plain that the two North Carolina mountain

boys would not be discouraged by their middle-aged

friend, Bud Eubanks.

The service-station owner scratched his stubbly

beard and smiled at their youthful enthusiasm.

Thats a pretty tall order. Isnt it? Youre back from the West Coast only two hours and already planning

to build a new car and win a championship. Besides,

you dont have your national racing licenses. Well get them somehow, Wynn said. The

2

blond rangy boy squinted out the afternoon sun.

Racings in our blood now for sure, Bud. Lonny said, Weve already ordered the kit and

sent for the SCCA Handbook. He was dark haired, stocky, and his face was weather beaten from years

of work on his family farm. As a mechanic, Lonny

had few peers in Clayborne, or, as a matter of fact,

in the whole of Wilkes County.

The two nineteen-year-old boys had just topped

off their Western jaunt with a third-place finish in

the Mexicali 1000 race down the rugged Baja

Peninsula. They drove their own Beetle Bomb, a

Volkswagen dune buggy they had built when they

finished high school the year before.

Their companion on the California trip had been

Lonnys sad-faced coon dog, Archie, who had served the boys well as a watchdog. Home again,

Archie was cavorting around the Morris farm and

chasing rabbits, his favorite pastime.

Now the boys stood in Bud Eubankss familiar garage, where they had spent many hours perfecting

Beetle Bomb. It had been bright yellow with a fresh

engine the day they headed for California. But the

newness had worn off, the result of many hard miles

on its odometer.

Lonny looked around his former working area,

and a surprised grin spread across his face.

Well, old Bud really has given the place some

3

improvement, he exclaimed. The original space had been enlarged, and a

collection of new tools decorated the wall.

Lonny noticed with appreciation that they were

neatly arranged on a pegboard for easy access. A real racers shop, he thought, not a backyard garage. He checked more closely and saw that the tools were in the metric measurements needed for

foreign cars.

Bud seemed pleased with their obvious approval.

I dont mind telling you, he said, that I was hoping this modernization would encourage you jet-

set racers to try the local fare for a spell. Here, look

at this. I bought new welding equipment, sheet metal

for fabricating parts, and a new workbench for

engine assembly. Thats neat, Wynn commented. He saw that

Bud had built a metal lip on the bench to prevent

small engine parts from rolling off.

Dont have a dyno yet, Bud went on, but if things look up for the Wilkes County Racing Team

of Redford and Morris, we might look into one. A dynamometer would be the ultimate in

equipment for a race shopthe means to gauge the horsepower of their machines before testing on a

track.

You really know the way to our hearts, Wynn said.

4

Well, Ill have to admit that I got a little encouragement from someone else, Bud replied.

At that moment a red-haired girl with a slight

limp from a childhood accident stepped out of the

parts room, carrying a file box that contained the

shops inventory. Nancy-Rae Eubanks, Buds daughter, knew the boys well. She had ridden a

motorcycle in the Mexicali 1000, and Bud was

overjoyed to have the independent seventeen-year-

old home again.

Hi, fellows, she called out. I should have known youd pop in after all the work was done!

The friends hugged one another; then she showed

them around the work area that was to be hers,

indicating that they were to respect the boundary. In

the center was her new pride and joy, a Rickman

cycle, obviously waiting to be cleaned. Wynn

noticed that the mud caught under the fenders

matched that on the bottoms of her jeans and boots.

It hadnt been all work and no play! Have you been riding cross-country? Lonny

asked.

Nancy-Rae laughed. Just hill climbing. She told them of her latest enthusiasm. We have an outing almost every Sunday, and I get up at dawn to

practice before I come to work. She brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead. I had hoped to get my bike cleaned before you saw it, but work never

5

seems to end around here. You should have hired a helper, Wynn

suggested.

Nancy-Rae climbed up on the seat of the bike. It

settled in the rear, dropping mud clumps on the

floor. We did. she replied. But the guys practically useless. Ive had to drop this inventory a dozen times this morning to wash windshields and

check oil. Bud sighed. I guess I hired a loser. He talked

good about cars, so I thought he might want to learn

something. As you can see, Nancy-Rae added with disgust,

you could have stolen half the place when you drove up and no one would have noticed.

Lonny looked out the front window and frowned.

A boy was leaning on a pump, sucking soda from a

pop bottle.

I see what you mean, Lonny said. Roy Briggs. I know him. Used to hang out at the drag strip.

Bud looked expectant. If I let him go, will you fellows help me? The nearest Volkswagen dealer is

fifty miles away and Ive counted a dozen bugs in town lately.

Nancy-Rae went on impishly, Dad figures we could open a customer-service department and you

could get parts for Beetle Bomb at a discount. Well, Wynn started to say, we have to

6

Give them some thinking time, Nancy-Rae chimed in. Tonight Im making pork chops with applesauce. What do you say? Ready for a switch

from hamburgers and fries? Lonny laughed. I wouldnt expect a girl who ran

the Baja to know how to boil water, but count us in. Thats a challenge! Be prepared for the best

meal youve ever eaten. Six-thirty sharp! Nancy-Rae turned and disappeared into the parts

room. Buds daughter, who had lost her mother in infancy, proved that she had learned plenty about

cooking from her aunts. Her dinner was as delicious,

as promised, right down to pecan pie and hot cider.

After the dishes had been cleared, Wynn and Lonny

spread out their car-kit catalogues to give more

details about their racing plans.

This is a type of kit car, Lonny explained, much on the same order as the buggy we built. Only you dont utilize any of the Volkswagen frame. You use the VW engine, gears, and wheels and build

them into a special racing chassis. Lonny showed sketches of it. It was a fragile-

looking frame of steel tubing, built by the Zink

Manufacturing Corporation in Charlotte. Lonny

explained that the space frame was the most rigid

chassis available, with extensive cross-bracing to

protect the driver in side impacts.

The designer is the winningest in Formula Vee

7

racing, Lonny said. His cars have won more races than all other makes combined. The American Road

Race of Champions is the culmination of the class

efforts. Leaning on their elbows, Bud and Nancy-Rae

studied the catalogues while Wynn went on, The events started for Formula Vee when the Sports Car

Club of America decided to have poor-mans racing to attract young drivers.

The formula class, he explained, was a type of

mini Indianapolis or mini Grand Prix car. Although

it traveled only half as fast as the big-time racers, it

gave inexperienced drivers the same sort of feeling

they might have on the high-speed circuits around

the world.

And it reduces the danger quite a lot, Nancy-Rae said, studying the side mounts for the gas tanks.

Thats right, Wynn agreed, because the cars go only about one hundred fifteen mph.

Is that all! Bud exclaimed with a laugh. Why, you could fall asleep at the wheel, poking around

like that! And another thing, Lonny said. Only Formula

Vees will be on the track. No heavy cars with

fenders out there to endanger you. Every man is

riding with about eight hundred pounds of car

around him. When Lonny folded the plans, he said with a

8

smile, The American Road Race of Champions is our goal.

You might just make it, Bud said. I know they will, Nancy-Rae guaranteed. And

well help all we can! The next morning a letter from the Sports Car

Club of America heightened Wynns enthusiasm. With it was a copy of the General Competition

Rules, the SCCA handbook for car preparation. He

shared the good news with Lonny and Nancy-Rae

before all three zipped out to the Mountain-top

Burger Shop for lunch, taking Beetle Bomb and the

Rickman. There they spread out their car plans again

on a long table, and between bites explained the ins

and outs of road racing to the local mountain boys.

The area around Clayborne was accustomed to

the quarter-mile dirt oval or drag strip for souped-up

American cars, and the southerners were dubious

about the strange road-racing car.

Youd be surprised how road racing is catching on in the South, Wynn said. And you dont have to be a millionaire to get started.

A high-pitched voice, edged with sarcasm, came

from over his shoulder. Whatll that little peanut do in the quarter mile?

Lonny looked up. Oh, hello, Fats, he said flatly. Youre telling me that little bitty four-cylinder

motorized skate board is a race car? How much

9

moving out you going to do with only fifty horses? Right much if you have a normal waistline,

Wynn said quickly, looking at the belly that spread

the shirt buttons around Fatss middle. The boys began to laugh and Wynn went on, I

suppose you could build one of them around you,

Fats. It says here theyll adjust to a six-foot-four frame, but it doesnt say in which direction.

Fats frowned and countered, Theres a lot of stock car drivers who dont look like horse racing jockeys!

You could jockey in an elephant race, one of the boys said with a grin, and Fatss face grew red.

Whats the matter with you guys? he blurted. Somebody comes up with a bunch of pretty pictures of some fancy little foreign car and you start

believing them. He turned to Wynn. Okay, hotshot, tell me that fly will beat my Chevy in the

quarter. Wynn knew he couldnt argue. The high-powered

V-8 Chevy would leave his road racer sitting there,

spinning its wheels.

Its not designed to go fast in the quarter. Nancy-Rae spoke quietly. There are different kinds of racing. If you go to California, youll see. Besides, there are different cars for different tracks.

Do you think a dragster would go fast in circles over

at the oval?

10

Baloney! Fats snorted. Ill drag you in your hot-rod go-cart any day. Name the time and place

and put your money where your mouth is! Buzz off, Wynn said. Fats went to his Chevy, revved the engine to a

deafening pitch, and spun out of the lot.

The other boys shrugged, still skeptical about the

Formula Vee.

Maybe Fats is right, one of them said, but its nothing to fight about.

Wynn agreed and folded up the plans. Then the

three left.

Lonny borrowed the bike and went directly to his

fathers farm to help put up the hay, because a rainstorm had been predicted for later in the

afternoon. Wynn and Nancy-Rae returned to the

station in time to see a delivery truck unloading

parts for the new racer.

Now were really in business! Wynn beamed. He helped lift off the last crate and when the truck

had left, Nancy-Rae pitched in to unpack the

Formula Vee components.

All at once Roy Briggs stormed into the shop. He

kicked one of the fiberglass panels from Nancy-

Raes hands and glared at Wynn. So! You got me fired! All right, friend, I wont forget it!

Have you gone nuts? Wynn demanded. Touch another part of this racer and Ill take you apart!

11

Now scram! As the boys glowered, the bell rang and Nancy-

Rae hurried out to serve a customer.

Okay, Mr. Big, Roy continued. Your fancy buggy wont be the only one in Wilkes County. Fats and I are going to build a car thatll leave you trailing! With that he stormed out to his old Ford. It started with a cloud of blue smoke as Roy frantically

raced the engine.

Nancy-Rae had just given the customer his

change. She limped into the middle of the driveway

when Roys angry car bolted forward. Wynn had walked to the door to see Roy take off.

He noticed the girl and a feeling of panic hit him.

Nancy-Rae, watch out! he screamed.

12

CHAPTER II

A Mean Hillclimb

The startled girl turned in time to see the car

streaking toward her. She jumped aside, the left

front fender brushing against her jeans.

Wow, that was a close one! Nancy-Rae trembled as Wynn rushed out to her.

Are you hurt? No. But he ripped my jeans! she said angrily,

looking at the tear in the cloth. Id better go home and change.

Half an hour later Nancy-Rae returned in high

spirits.

Good news, Wynn! I got the entry blanks for the Chimney Rock Hillclimb.

Great! They have a class for specials, which means that

Beetle Bomb is eligible. And better yet, they have a

purse!

13

Money! How we need it for our new car! Lonny came in from the farm the next afternoon,

his cheeks windburned from putting up the hay. Free

of chores for the day, he listened happily to the

hillclimb plans.

The roads almost two miles long, Wynn explained. It runs like a snake up Chimney Rock Mountain.

Sounds like fun. How do they score? Cars leave the start line one at a time, with a

clock stopping as they cross the finish at the top. That is, if you make it, Lonny said with a wry

smile. A long time ago I rode up with my folks to see the view. I remember that the whole

mountainside was covered with rocks. One mistake

and youve had it! Wynn appeared to listen to something with mock

seriousness. Did I just hear old Beetle Bomb moan? I imagine hes eager for a little competition and crying for a tune-up.

Right. We wouldnt want the old boy to think we dont care about him any more.

They cleared a working area beside the race car

material and rolled in the dune buggy. Lonny taped

the hillclimb rules to the workbench and the

companions checked each item carefully.

They indicated that technical inspection was

strict, the officials considering it their duty to protect

14

the drivers as much as possible.

Since the road was paved, racers used wide tires

that were already mounted for the Formula Vee and

could be interchanged with the buggy. Many other

parts could also be used for both cars.

Lonny tackled the job and soon was tuning,

listening, and making small carburetor changes until

he felt the car was reasonably ready for racing.

I guess that does it, he said finally, laying aside his tools.

Nancy-Rae breezed in with a wave of her hand.

Hey, you might as well forget the whole thing, she said with a giggle.

What do you mean? Lonny said. I just had a soda at the Mountaintop and was

told by speedball Otis, better known as Fats, that

hes entering his creepy Chevy in the climb and is going to blow your doors off!

Wynn laughed. That old piece of junk? Hell be lucky to make it past the start line. Itll break in two at the first tight turn.

Seriously, I think therell be trouble from him, Nancy-Rae went on, but not as competition.

What trouble? Lonny asked. Ive been named to the technical-inspection

crew. I told him he had to have a roll bar and fire

extinguisher. He said his mother had an old vacuum

cleaner hose he might weld up for a roll bar and that

15

hed carry a bucket of water. I wouldnt worry, Wynn said. All you can do

is follow the rules and reject his car. He wont take it too well. Wynn shrugged. By the way, would you make

Beetle Bomb a number? Hes temporarily coming out of retirement.

When the race weekend arrived, Nancy-Rae got

on her cycle and was the first to set off on the back

road to the resort village of Chimney Rock. Wynn

and Lonny packed her camping equipment in Beetle

Bomb, so she wouldnt be loaded down, and followed a bit later.

The three planned to claim a campsite beside

Lake Lure, where they would wake up in the

morning and see the famous rock chimney, topped

by the Stars and Stripes snapping in the wind.

By nightfall they had registered, set up their tent,

and gathered around a bonfire with a group of

entrants and workers. Stories flew like sparks about

past meets and their heroes, and laughter crackled

over the humorous incidents.

The first winning car had been a backyard special

made by a mountain boy. It was a combination of

tractor and truck parts, with a wooden crate for a

seat and a Coca-Cola sign for the rear deck. The cars

had become more sophisticated over the years, but

the wicked mountain road stayed the same.

16

The winner was dubbed King of the Mountain by

his peers. The current monarch was a handsome

driver from Charlotte who had negotiated the

eighteen hairpins in under two minutes.

Think of that, Lonny exclaimed. It isnt easy to run a straight line in under two minutes!

The two Wilkes County rookies listened with

fascination and respect while the veterans related

their experiences. One driver had rolled all the way

down the mountainside, reportedly landing on his

head with nothing left around him but his safety

equipment. Yet, miraculously, he had suffered no

serious injuries.

One of the former kings had crashed twice in one weekend, never to return again to the scene of

his dethroning. And if it should rain, look out! said one of the pros. Its like wrestling a big old slick snake!

The next morning, after they had crawled out of

their sleeping bags and dressed in the crisp air,

Nancy-Rae addressed the boys soberly. Ive got good news and bad news.

Whats up? Wynn asked. Give us the bad news first.

The girl reached into her jeans and plucked out a

quarter. The bad news is that only one of you can drive Beetle Bomb, Thats the rule, you know.

I kind of guessed that was coming, Lonny said.

17

All right, whatll it be, heads or tails? Heads, said Wynn. Nancy-Rae flipped the coin into the air. It fell to

the ground, tails up.

You win, Lonny. Thats the good news! Laughing, the three hurried down to Johnnys for

early breakfast. The restaurant was nearly filled with

the white-clad young people who would make up

the communications and flagging teams. While

Wynn, Lonny, and Nancy-Rae made short work of

ham, eggs, and grits, officials outlined the

procedures to the newcomers.

Each turn on the hill was equipped with

earphones for the workers, who kept track of the

racers at all times. If a car spins out, say, in turn nine, a girl explained, the red flag will be displayed at the lower stations to prevent the

following driver from colliding with it. The cars, she went on, would be released at the

start line, one at a time, but there would be several

cars at different points of the course at once.

A boy with his eyes on Nancy-Raes shining red hair picked up the conversation. This gives competitors as many runs as possible and keeps the

spectators happy. Right, Nancy-Rae said. And when all of the

seventy entrants are at the top, the traffic is sent

back to the starting area to line up for another timed

18

run. The workers, she added, were also responsible for keeping the spectators off the track.

Its a mean old mountain, another official said. The kind thatll let you start in the sunlight, then drop a cloud on you halfway up.

Oh, brother, Lonny whispered. Im really getting psyched up.

When you get psyched out, Wynn joked, let me know.

Not on your life! Lonny returned in his best mountain accent. Me an that ol hill are go in to get to know one another real good!

Nancy-Rae excused herself to go to the technical-

inspection area. A group of cars had already

gathered, and she began her check of helmets and

fireproof suits and gloves.

As the boys lingered to enjoy a second cup of

coffee, Lonny hit the saucer with a bang. I dont believe my eyes! he exploded. The Wilkes County Rambling Wreck is over there in the tech line!

Wynn looked and saw Roy and Fats, who

appeared to be arguing with the inspectors. Roy was

gesturing, as if pleading for extra consideration.

Come on, lets go, Wynn said. They paid their check and rolled Beetle Bomb into the line, which

had come to a halt because of the tie-up Roy and

Fats were causing.

An inspector shook his head as he wobbled the

19

Chevy roll bar back and forth with one hand.

Thatll never hold in a roll-over, he said, pushing the car out of the way.

As the line began moving again, Fats and Roy

roared out into the street and set off in the direction

of Clayborne.

Beetle Bomb went through inspection easily, and

a sticker was slapped on the windshield. Good car, commented the official. This is the second one of these Baja buggies to come through today.

Another one? Wynn wondered as he moved on. Could it be someone we met at the Mexican race? They drove on to the picnic area that would serve as

the pits, all the while looking for a Baja buggy.

Finally their scanning eyes pinned it down.

Sitting in the shade of a live oak was a chartreuse

single seater they knew as Froggy. Standing beside

it was a slender blond girl with a turned up nose and

firm chin. Ingrid Larsson!

Inky! the boys yelled in unison, as they ran up to greet her.

I wondered when you would show up, she said with a big grin. Ive met Nancy-Rae already. Hey, you look great! To the surprise of the surrounding racers, the old friends hugged one another.

During the Mexicali 1000, Inky, a Minnesota girl,

had lost her racer in the desert and had hitched a ride

with Wynn and Lonny to complete the run.

20

Whered you find old Froggy? Wynn asked. You wont believe it, Inky related, but he was

washed, polished, and waiting for me. Those

Mexican kids found him a few days later and kept

him under cover until I arrived. And what brings you out to Gods country?

Lonny asked.

I ran across an announcement of the race, and you know me. I had to try it.

The boys learned that Inky was in the South to

sign up at a wilderness-training school in the

Western Carolina mountains. Actually she had

hoped to meet her old buddies again and figured a

race was the best place to do it.

After a day of practice and a steak dinner with all

the participants, the friends returned to their

campsite. They decided not to stay awake telling

Baja stories, but to get a good nights sleep instead. Before the race the next day Wynn and Nancy-

Rae climbed up to one of the spectator areas to

watch the competitors make their runs. Beetle Bomb

and Froggy were running second and third in the

dune buggy class, with the rookie drivers getting

faster on each run.

The Baja experience had toned their reflexes to

challenge the unfamiliar road, where the surface

would change its characteristics before they had

time to think.

21

Soon they were slicing only tenths of a second

from their times. The announcer said entrants were

going about as fast as possible, and spectators were

warned to keep back from the edge of the course.

As Nancy-Rae and Wynn watched, a small

formula car slid sideways in a curve and disappeared

between two trees.

Oh! I hope he didnt get hurt seriously! Nancy-Rae said under her breath.

The red flag went up, halting the race until the

pale-faced driver had climbed back to the road. Then

a dozen men went down the mountainside to retrieve

the car.

Finally it was time for the last run of the day.

Lonny was within two-tenths of the veteran in front

of him, and Inky was close behind.

It was then that the rain began. Drops started to

slash through the trees, and the drivers joked about

the old hills being temperamental. The beautiful day had vanished in seconds!

The cars came up the hill, hoping to complete

their final run before the road became dangerous.

There he goes! Wynn called out as Beetle Bomb passed them. Lonny, his jaw firmly set,

struggled into the right turn, which was already

shiny with water. Drops splattered against his visor,

blurring the view.

The instant before Lonny turned the wheel to full

22

lock for the hairpin, Wynn noticed that the pavement

had been carpeted with blossoms blown from an

overhanging fruit tree. Lonnys tires hit the slick and the rear broke away. He slewed sideways and the

right back tire zipped over the edge of the bank!

23

CHAPTER III

Lucky Lonny

A Rooster tail of mud shot up the bank and

splattered those in front. All the while Lonnys strong arms held the steering wheel in place, forcing

the stray tire back onto the pavement.

Wow! Wynn exclaimed. But the run was only half over. Wynn and Nancy-

Rae strained to hear the unmuffled VW engine

roaring through the gears as Lonny fought to stay on

the road through each remaining turn. Then another

car growled past.

Thats a relief, Wynn said. Now we know Lonny didnt spin out, or they wouldnt have released the next car.

Listen, Nancy-Rae said, he made it up to the top. Theyre announcing his time!

She wrote the figures on her score sheet, which

was smeared with raindrops. Two eleven point

24

nine. Faster than the other one! A worker ran out with a broom and swept the

slippery blossoms off the turn. When she was safely

back at her post, Froggy whizzed by.

Hang in there, Wynn shouted. The rain came down in a stream now, and the

racers had visibly slowed. Inky was unable to give

her best, between fighting the water in her eyes and

struggling to stay on the liquid sheet of mud and

leaves covering the course. Finally her time was

announced. It was slower than the previous run.

She didnt have a chance, Nancy-Rae said sadly.

But Lonny may be in luck, Wynn said. If the car in first place cant do better this time, Lonny has won.

All the following times were slower, and the car

that had outsped Beetle Bomb earlier failed to equal

Lonnys last trip. But the veteran driver had another run. If he goes slower in the wet, we may be home free, Wynn said, excited. Look, here he comes!

The buggy sailed by, appearing smoother in the

wet than many of the rookie contenders. Looks like hes running on rails, Wynn commented. Rain or no rain. What a driver!

The public-address system roared above the

pelting drops. The veteran had been under the course

record in the next to last turn, but a large puddle had

25

sent him off the course, which cost him two seconds

of wheelspin in the mud.

Thats a tough break after a good drive, Wynn noted thoughtfully, but two precious seconds for us.

When the final times were announced, Lonnys was declared the fastest in the special class. Inky

came in third. Both would share some of the twenty-

three hundred dollar purse. Lonny beamed as his

competitor made a special trip to their pit area to

congratulate him on a good run.

Id never have caught you, Lonny admitted, if it werent for the rain.

Thats racing, was the reply, and they shook hands.

Later, at the awards presentation, Lonny received

almost three hundred dollars for his win. Then, as a

special bonus, he was given an extra fifty dollars as

the fastest rookie.

On the ride home the boys chatted about the race

above the sound of the buggys wipers as the rain continued to fall. Nancy-Rae followed on her cycle

and Inky brought up the rear, happy at the prospect

of spending a few days at the Eubankss home. They arrived at Buds service station to see Fats

and Roy, bareheaded in the drizzle, servicing a

customers car. What the devil! Wynn said, and the four

26

walked in to meet Bud, who was working on an

engine.

After introducing Inky to her father, Nancy-Rae

motioned toward the pair outside. Dad, what are those creeps doing here?

I got into a real bind this weekend with all of you gone, Bud replied, and those two were hanging around on Saturday afternoon.

After they hightailed away from Chimney Rock!

Thats right. They told me you rejected them in the technical inspection so they couldnt beat your friends. Bud chuckled. I felt sorry for them, so I let em work.

Oh, brother! Nancy-Rae said. Id think theyd be ashamed to show their faces. We had to reject

them to save their necks because their car wasnt safe.

I know, Bud said, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. Roy and Fats walked in at that moment.

Ah-ha, I see the clique is still together, Fats sneered. Whats the matter with you guys? Scared of a little healthy competition?

The others ignored him while Bud paid the pair

for the day and told them he would not be needing

them anymore. They left, with Fats still grumbling

under his breath. ,

That evening, the young racing buffs had a small

27

victory celebration at Nancy-Raes home, where Bud got better acquainted with the adventurous

Inky. Never one to gush over a newcomer, he treated

his guest with a certain restraint. He had never

known anyone quite like this completely outgoing

girl. I wonder how you and Nancy-Rae will get along with the young women here, Bud remarked in a half-jest. They spend their spare time doing needlepoint instead of tune-ups.

Oh, Daddy! Nancy-Rae said, what do you know about girls?

Toward the end of the evening Inky drew Bud

aside, Mr. Eubanks, she said, I sure do appreciate the hospitality that you and Nancy-Rae have offered

me. Just an old southern custom. Besides, its nice

you girls are such good friends. But what I mean, she went on, is Nancy-Rae

wants me to stay a while, and Id love to. But that would be an imposition.

Oh, I get it. Another mouth to feed. Is that what youre driving at?

Inky nodded silently.

You want to earn your keep? The blond head kept on nodding.

After a slight pause, Bud said, All right then. How are you with figures?

I love math.

28

Well make a deal, Bud said. You help around the garage and keep my books and you can stay as

long as you want. Oh, great! Inky hugged him and then went to

tell Nancy-Rae her good news.

Early the next morning, Wynn was pumping gas

and clapping his hands together in the damp cold

when a Cadillac pulled up. Its driver, a portly, well-

dressed man, stepped out and pointed at Beetle

Bomb.

I didnt know a local racer was behind the wheel of that, he said pleasantly.

Yep. My good friend Lonny Morris, Wynn said. He and I built it together. Top it off, sir?

Yes, please. Are you a racing fan? Not really. My wife and I were out driving

Sunday afternoon and just happened to pass

Chimney Rock. We were swept up in the crowd, and

wellit was quite a show! Your friend put on a fine drive.

Thank you, sir, Wynn said, as he withdrew the nozzle from the fuel tank. He talked some more

about Beetle Bomb, and promised the man he would

pass his compliments on to Lonny, who was at work

on his fathers farm. Why dont you stop by my office tomorrow,

the man said, returning the credit receipt to his

29

wallet. Heres my card. Wynn read it: Sylvester Hankin, President, First

Federal Bank of Clayborne.

I think I might have something that will interest you, Hankin said as he drove off. Make it one oclock.

Wynn told Bud the news as soon as he showed

up.

Well, how about that? Bud said. I wonder what he wants? Hes one of the richest men in the county, you know.

Maybe he wants Lonny to chauffeur his Cadillac, Wynn guessed. Bud chuckled.

Nancy-Rae, Inky, and Lonny were equally

mystified and virtually pushed Wynn out of the

station at quarter to one the next day. For goodness sake, dont be late! Nancy-Rae urged.

Okay, Mother! Wynn retorted. At five minutes to one he walked up to the big

glass door of the bank building. In it he saw a

familiar reflection, the ample form of Fats Otis

coming up behind him.

Going to rob it? Fats scoffed. Youll never make any money racing.

Wynn paid no attention and went inside. He

knocked on the door of Suite One and a womans voice said, Come in, please.

He entered a large reception area and looked

30

around. The walls were hung with photographs of

different sports activities: golf, jumping horses,

tennis. Tall potted plants added to the relaxing

ambience.

Im Wynn Redford, maam, he said. Yes. I know. Take a seat, please. As Wynn sat down, he said, Nice photos. Mr.

Hankin must like sports. Oh yes. He took the pictures himself. Its a

hobby. The young woman pressed a button and said quietly, The young man is here.

Hankins round figure appeared at the door, and he beckoned Wynn to come inside his large office.

Wynn sat in a black leather chair that hissed under

his weight. Hankin faced him from behind a huge

mahogany desk.

Ill get right to the point, Wynn. I liked what I saw Sunday.

Sir? I liked the show put on by those little cars. Ive

got billboards beside every road in the county, but I

bet that more people read the numbers on those

racers streaking by. Have you thought about selling

a bit of advertising space? Mr. Hankin asked. Well, no sir, I havent, Wynn said thoughtfully.

But Ive seen it done. Tell me about it, Hankin said, then leaned back

in his chair.

31

When Lonny and I were on the West Coast we noticed that a great many competitors in the road

races, the drag strips, and the Baja had designs

painted on them, advertising various products from

toy cars to orange juice. But no banks. Not that Ive noticed. Ive decided to give the bank a new image,

Hankin went on. We need to appeal to the young, the under-thirty generation. Theyre fast moving and big spenders. I saw those very people out there

watching the race at Chimney Rock. The excitement within Wynn burst like an old

inner tube. He eagerly told the banker about the

upcoming season and how he and Lonny planned to

enter a series of races that would lead to the

National Championship at Road Atlanta. They had a

new car. It could be lettered with the banks advertising. They could display additional

information on Beetle Bomb, which would serve as

the tow vehicle for the Formula Vee.

And with some extra cash, Wynn said, We could transport the car in an enclosed trailer, with

large sides for more commercial messages! His mind was bubbling with ideas.

And uniforms, too, Hankin suggested. I could order special uniforms for the crew and use their

pictures in newspaper advertisements.

32

Wow! That would be great! Are we in business, young man? You bet! Wynn stood up and they shook hands.

A deal was made. Hankin summoned his secretary

and explained the plans.

Have the checks printed Save-a-thon Racing Team, he said, and make the co-signers Wynn Redford and Lonny Morris. Deposit five-hundred

dollars from Special Funds as a starter. Five-hundred dollars! Wynn felt as if he were

walking two feet off the floor! He thanked Hankin

and hurried out, while silently calculating the return

on their good fortune. Not only would they be able

to order a trailer, they could use their Chimney Rock

winnings to buy a spare engine.

As Wynn turned in the station, he caught a

glimpse of a bright-yellow car. It was a real

beautya brand new Lotus-Europa. Wynn leaped from the buggy to get a closer look, but the slick

sports car accelerated out of the station and hummed

through the gears down the highway.

What a fantastic job that was, he said to Nancy-Rae as she ran to the pump.

What a fantastic swindler, you mean! the distraught redhead screamed. He got a full tankten dollars and thirty centsand didnt pay for it!

What? Thats right! He sent me in for a pack of

33

cigarettes and when I came out he vamoosed. I

didnt even get his license number. Wynn jumped into Beetle Bomb and roared onto

the highway. Hed do his best to catch the cheat. Then another thought occurred to him. Maybe the

Lotus was stolen! It was a speck of yellow in the

distance but Wynn saw it turn on a familiar back

road. Now he could close the gap. Soon he sighted

the car again, only three turns ahead on the twisting

road, which Wynn knew like the back of his hand!

34

CHAPTER IV

Getting It Together

The bright-yellow sports car moved smoothly

around each turn with a short blast of smoke every

time the skillful driver selected a gear in the five-

speed box.

Wynn sighted the tail of the sportster as it exited

the corners like a bumblebee diving into a flower.

He memorized the plate number on the British

vehicle that was so new it still carried European

tags.

The driver made no mistakes with the rear-

engined car, and as the grade grew steeper, Beetle

Bomb began to slow. The buggy, though still

cornering rapidly, lost momentum on the uphill to

the high-powered machine ahead.

What Wynn feared finally happened. When he

reached the crest of a steep grade, the yellow tail had

vanished. He knew the road forked in a mile. Why

35

keep trying? It was no use, he said to himself. Beetle

Bomb had done the best he could but had been

outmatched.

Wynn turned around and headed back toward the

station, considering the strangeness of the gasoline

swindle. Why would a man who could afford a car

like that try to steal a tankful of fuel? Maybe he just

forgot to pay? But then why would he run for it?

Should the incident be reported to the police? No,

not for ten dollars and thirty cents.

On the way Wynn dropped by the Morris farm to

tell Lonny about the incident and the good news

about Hankin. He drove up the bumpy dirt lane and

saw his pal on a tractor, breaking up a field with big

silver discs that lifted the soil and churned it.

Lonnys father, Charlie Morris, was tinkering with a broken barrow wheel beside the barn. He frowned

when he saw the caller, but Wynn was used to the

crusty old farmer.

Hi, Mr. Morris, he called cheerfully. Lonnys busy! So I see, but I wont interrupt him for long. I just

have some good news. Lonny waved from the tractor. He drove to the

end of a row, shut off the engine, climbed down, and

strode over.

At the same time Archie bounded out from

behind the barn and ran to Wynn.

36

Hello, old boy, Wynn said as he hunkered down to stroke the exuberant hound. Getting used to North Carolina again, or do you still like

California better? Archie let out a low growly bark.

Oh, you prefer it here. Me, too. Wynn picked up a stick and tossed it, sending Archie scampering

off to retrieve it.

Whats doing, Wynn? Lonny asked. You look like you swallowed a canary.

Great news. We landed us a sponsor today. What? Actually, you did and didnt even know it.

Wynn told about Hankins seeing the hillclimb. As he spelled out the details, Lonnys face beamed with delight.

Now were really in business, pal! Do you hear that, Dad?

Yes, I heard. But his fathers face grew stormy. What do you two think is so great about running a car up a hill? Thats all weve heard since Sunday. I never seen either of you work on something

worthwhile! Its worthwhile getting the backing of one of the

most important men in Wilkes County! Wynn replied.

Most important men, humph! One of the biggest crooks. He dont do nothing but take money from

37

poor people. Oh, come off it, Pop, Lonny pleaded. Dont talk back to me! At that moment Lonnys mother walked up to

interrupt the argument. Charlie, dont be so hard on the boys, she said. I realize you dont think much of racing, but they get a big kick out of it. And you

know Lonny helps out a lot. Charlie Morris wouldnt stop, however. Instead

he complained about the time Lonny was away from

the farm when the boys had gone to California. He

kept on, and Wynn could tell from Lonnys face that his patience was near an end. Finally he exploded.

Look, Pop! I told you Id help on the farm. But I want to race in my spare time. Im nineteen years old and ought to be able to do it!

Not while you live under my roof! Then Ill finish my chores and go to town to stay

with Wynn! Go ahead! Lonny walked back to the field and Charlie

turned in anger, leaving Wynn and Hannah Morris,

who was nearly in tears. The boy patted her on the

shoulder. Dont worry, Mrs. Morris. They cant stay mad forever.

She looked up at him. You keep in touch, you hear? Make Lonny let me know hes getting on all right.

38

Yes, maam. When all the furrows had been turned, Wynn

helped Lonny put the tractor and tools away. Lonny

was very quiet as they drove into town. Finally he

asked, Wynn, do you think your motherll let me stay a few nights? I didnt even ask when I lost my temper back there.

Sure she will. Mom always said you were like her second son.

That evening the boys talked in Wynns room. They discussed the future and what they would

eventually do for a livelihood. Lonnys father wanted him to take over the farm. But Lonny

wanted adventure. Farming had never appealed to

him, even though he did it whole-heartedly when

called upon.

I want a career with cars. You know that, Wynn.

That makes two of us, ol buddy. So cheer up. Look whats ahead this year!

Lonnys spirits began to rise as Wynn talked about the coming summer. Now they had enough

money to run the full circuit of races on the East

Coast, leading to the National Championship.

A smile returned to Lonnys face as he studied the maps posted on the four walls of the bedroom.

All the race tracks were there: Danville, Atlanta,

Daytona, Savannah, and Talladega. On a bulletin

39

board, Wynn had pinned articles from all their

racing ventures, sprint cars, the Baja, and recently

the Chimney Rock Hillclimb.

He had posters of famous tracks around the

world, the Porsches at Nrburgring, the Ferraris at

Monaco, the Matras at Spa. There was a large color

picture of Jackie Stewart, the World Champion

known as the Mod Scot, wearing one of the caps he

had made famous.

In California, Wynn had collected bits and pieces

of cars and polished them. Now they sat in a row on

top of his bookcase. The shelves were crammed with

well-thumbed copies of books on driving and hot

rodding. Hanging on the wall above his bed was an

autographed picture of Stirling Moss, the great

English driver.

Pretty hard to stay unhappy in this room, Lonny said with a grin.

Born lucky! Wynn grinned. By the next afternoon they had ordered the trailer

and the kit car was well under way. After reading

the instructions, the boys and their two helpers

found that they were well fixed for tools. Required

were a one-quarter-inch drill, a pop rivet gun, and

hand tools. The instructions read: Besides the kit, you will need Volkswagen parts, race tires, and

about forty hours time. Weve got it! Wynn exulted, looking ahead at

40

the task with pleasure.

Inky joked, When youve got us, youve got everything!

Enough of that, blondie, Wynn retorted. Lonny went to work on the engine while Wynn

started the chassis and body assembly. He began on

the front suspension, installing the sway bar and

trailing arms. Then he checked the list and unpacked

the bronze spacers required.

Inky followed Lonnys instructions, sitting on the floor with a shop rag, preparing the parts for

assembly. Bud dropped by for a few minutes and

watched with some amusement. He was not quite

used to seeing a girl doing mechanics work. Later that afternoon, Inky went out to buy parts

that Lonny had requested. When she came back, she

shut the door with a bang. Everybody jumped.

Hey, whats up? Wynn asked. The girl was breathing hard. Whats the matter

with this silly little town? she stormed. I thought we were in the twentieth century and that girls had

put away their hoop skirts and crinolines! Oh, oh, Lonny said knowingly, I think Inky

has run into some of the good old stock car boys. You bet I have. You may think theyre good old

boys, but I say theyre a bunch of morons. And I told them so!

She walked to the workbench stool and threw the

41

package down, her lower lip thrust forward.

I went into the shop to pick up the bolts you sent me for, she said, and this guy blocked me at the door. I asked why and he said, I cant let you in. We got a stock car going in there. Well, I naturally said I wanted to see it, since I had a special interest

in the subject, and you would have thought I told

him I was going to dynamite the place! Bud tried to calm her. Inky, some of these

southerners believe their stock cars would blow up

by themselves if a woman looked at them. But its not that way with the sports-car fellows.

Inky was speechless with amazement, and Nancy-

Rae put a hand on her shoulder. Hes right, Inky. In this part of the world women and stock cars are the

worst kind of bad luck. Theyve written rules to keep women out of the garage and pit area. But as

Daddy says, the sports-car bunch invites girls to

participate if they want to. Inky regained her composure, and a smile

flickered on her lips. Well, okay. At least were making some progress, Nancy-Rae.

By the next evening, the engine was ready for

installation. Wynn and Lonny carried it from the

workbench and hooked it around the block and

tackle. While Inky steadied the engine and Nancy-

Rae manned the lever on the lift, the boys began

connecting all the main chassis parts that would

42

secure it in place behind the drivers seat. As soon as the bolts were tightened, Wynn and

Lonny connected the hoses and tubes. Lonny read

through a check list to make sure nothing had been

overlooked. They were ready to crank it up.

Okay, Wynn. Press the starter button and keep a sharp lookout on the oil-pressure gauge. Ill feel the tubes to see if the oils circulating properly.

If the pressure did not rise, Wynn was to shut

down the engine immediately to prevent damage to

the parts. Inky stood over the car with a fire

extinguisher. Nancy-Rae held a rag to snuff out any

small fires that might start in the carburetor or fuel

lines because of leakage.

Wynn pressed the button. After grinding the

starter a few times, the engine cracked to life. In the

anxious seconds that followed, Lonnys hands felt the black tubing while Wynn concentrated on the oil

pressure. The needle flickered, then rose steadily.

Hot diggity! Nancy-Rae exclaimed, and Inkys smile could have lit up the whole town.

After the engine had warmed up for a few

minutes, Lonny worked on the carburetor

adjustments, changing the speed. The din was ear

splitting. He ran a hand across his throat, a

mechanics signal to shut off the engine. Okay, he said. Lets get it out of the car and

into the trailer.

43

Wynn looked puzzled. It sounded good to me! Yeah, Nancy-Rae agreed. Good but not good enough, Lonny said firmly.

And since we have a sponsor, why not buy a little dyno time? Theres one at Ed Zinks place in Charlotte. It might give us five percent more

horsepower. And with this little engine, two horses

could mean the race! By the way, Inky, he added, Ed Zinks a fabricator, and he doesnt hate girls!

The engine was carefully removed and bolted into

a heavy wooden block. They loaded it into the new

trailer that had been delivered earlier and left it

covered in the garage overnight.

The next morning they headed down the road to

Charlotte, where dyno time was reserved for that

afternoon. Inky, who was eager to see the racing

facility, especially since Ed Zink was not anti-girls,

begged to go along.

Fine with me, Wynn said. Whos going to mind the store?

Who else? Nancy-Rae said. Have a good time, you all!

The day was bright, the highway smooth, and the

three drove along, with Wynn at the wheel. Inky had

brought a small radio, which she tuned to a country-

music station and all of them were bellowing the

chorus of a popular song, when the girl glanced

back.

44

Oh no! she exclaimed. Weve had it! What? the boys asked in unison. Look behind. Wynn glanced into the rearview mirror and saw

the flashing blue light of the North Carolina

highway patrol!

45

CHAPTER V

A Dirty Trick!

When Wynn pulled over to the shoulder, the patrol

car stopped behind Beetle Bomb.

We werent speeding, Lonny said. I wonder what happened.

Theyre staring at the trailer, Inky said. Wynn was first to approach the patrolmen, who

had stepped out of their vehicle. Hi, he said breezily. Whats the trouble?

Suppose you let us have a look at whats in that trailer, one of the officers said.

Sure. Its just an engine, Lonny said, and he untied the ropes.

Just an engine is what were looking for. A yellow dune buggy with a trailer was seen making

off with it. Wynn looked at his companions and shrugged,

while the second officer checked the serial number

46

of the engine. He frowned. Thats the one, he told his partner. To the others he said, What makes nice-looking kids like you pull a stunt like this?

Were going to have to take you into Spruce Pine and book you.

For what? Wynn bristled. This is our engine. We built it ourselves!

Get into the patrol car. But listen Lonny began. Get in and dont make any trouble. Youre in

enough already. The three reluctantly obeyed and were taken

away, while one of the troopers drove Beetle Bomb

to headquarters in Spruce Pine.

First their licenses and registration were

examined and found to be correct, which seemed to

surprise the lawmen. Then one officer was

summoned into an anteroom by a clerk. He was

gone about ten minutes while the companions

fidgeted.

I cant take this any longer, Lonny said. Lets phone Bud.

Just then the policeman returned. He looked

embarrassed and forced a weak smile. Sorry to have detained you people, he said. You can be on your way now. He handed Wynn the keys to Beetle Bomb.

But what happened? the boy asked. What was

47

this all about? We got a call this morning, complete with

description of the getaway car, the trooper said, stating that an engine had been stolen. While we were picking you up, the clerk here checked out the

report, which came from the Red Line Racing Shop.

He found that there is no such shop anywhere. This

was somebodys sick idea of a joke. What town did the call come from? Lonny

asked.

Clayborne. As they left the station, Inky said, We dont need

Sherlock Holmes to figure out who would pull that

kind of dirty trick. Right, Wynn agreed. Fats, Roy, or both. They

had a chance to copy the engine number while we

were at Chimney Rock. Theyre really playing with fire now, Lonny

added. If the patrolmen knew who had led them to a false arrest, those two dummies would be in real

trouble. They drove the rest of the way into Charlotte

without further incident, and pulled up at the loading

platform of the Zink Manufacturing Corporation. The proprietor met them at the door and welcomed

them in. Introductions were made.

Youre late, Zink said, glancing at his watch. I thought you might not be coming, so I rescheduled

48

all the dyno time for today. But well take care of you later. I just cant say how soon.

The boys apologized for the delay and explained

the reason for it.

Too bad, Zink said. Well, now that youre here, let me show you around our facility. And by

the way, congratulations on your win at Chimney

Rock! Thanks, Lonny said, and Zink led the way into

a large high-ceilinged work area. This is where our chassis are made, Zink said. He showed them how the pieces were carefully welded together in a frame

so that the measurements would be exact, and placed

in a jig to assure precision fit.

Another area was set off for molding the

fiberglass bodies. Each Vee had a long round nose,

side panels, and a curved engine-cover for the rear.

The body covers snapped into place with screw

fasteners to allow easy removal. This gave a

mechanic access to all areas of the car.

When the tour was over, Zink said, Ill let you know when your engines ready.

They thanked him and headed home. When they

arrived at the station, Nancy-Rae was indignant. A

friend had told her about the arrest for the stolen engine. Fats and Roy had been bragging about it at

the Mountaintop Burger Shop.

They couldnt resist telling everybody, she

49

said, because they thought it was so clever. Well see how clever they arelater, Wynn

said.

That evening he and Lonny were still working

alone in the garage when they heard a familiar

engine turn into the station.

The creeps, Wynn said as he and Lonny went out to confront Fats and Roy.

Were closed for business, Lonny told them. Oh, we dont want gas, Roy giggled. Just

thought wed take a look at your progress on the super car.

The shops off limits, Wynn replied. What happened? Fats asked. Somebody steal

your engine? I dont see it around. That little prank of yours was not appreciated,

Lonny said, doing his best to keep his cool. Youre lucky we didnt have the cops arrest both of you.

Cant you take a joke? Roy said. Racings no joke. Were serious about this

business. And what if we had tried to outrun the

police and had an accident? Big deal, Fats said. Wynn shoved him hard. Get lost, both of you! Aw, come on, Fats, Roy said. We got work to

do. They took off in the usual cloud of blue smoke. Wynn and Lonny decided to call it quits for the

night and head home. Lonny went to sleep quickly,

50

while Wynn pored over race magazines far into the

night. The next morning at breakfast he told his

chum about a new idea.

He had read about an upcoming drivers school and suggested that they enroll. Already they had one

course to their credit in California, and with the

completion of another successful school, theyd be in line for a regional racing license.

Not only that, Wynn said. If we pass with high grades, we might be able to skip the regional

requirements and get a national license. Then,

starting at Savannah, we can earn points toward the

championship race at Road Atlanta! Dream on, Lonny cautioned with a laugh. To back up words with deeds, both boys went for

physicals, which they passed without trouble, and

checked out their plans with the Sports Car Club of

America. All was in order. They were set for a very

rugged uphill campaign.

The track locations on the Southeast circuit were

widespread. Road-racing areas were located in

country settings because of the many acres needed

to house several miles of challenging pavement.

Closest to their Wilkes County home was

Virginia International Raceway near Danville,

Virginia, where the boys would attend drivers school. The next track was in Georgia, just outside

the port city of Savannah in the hot sandy marsh

51

country. Farther south were Talladega, Alabama,

and Daytona International Speedway in Florida,

both stock-car tracks built with near identical plans

and designed to host road racing as well.

Also in Florida was Palm Beach, a strange road

course weaving through a collection of irrigation

canals. Finally, there was Road Atlanta, the

championship track in Gainesville, Georgia. It

nestled back in chicken-raising country, where the

activities were rumored to disturb the egg-laying

process for days on end to the distress of local

residents.

The weekend of the school finally arrived.

Although VIR was not widely known, it was

considered one of the most challenging road courses

on the East Coast, with more than three miles of up-

and-down-hill twists and turns. One series was

jokingly called Nascar Bend and ended up in Dirty

Ditch.

Their new Formula Vee would not be ready for

some time, so Wynn and Lonny obtained two rent-a-racers to be brought to VIR for use during the school. Hankin had been glad to put up the rental

money.

Two days before the school was to start, Inky

said, Nancy-Rae and I would like to go along, Wynn. Any objections?

You know we would like to have you watch,

52

but Were bad-luck girls. Is that it? Dont be silly. We need you to stay here and

guard the Formula Vee. I can feel it in my bones that

we can expect more trouble from Fats and Roy. Inky thought about it, tossed back a blond curl,

and smiled. Youre right. Well watch the garage. But next time those two goons start anything, Ill give them a karate chop!

Early on Friday, Bud and the two girls wished

Wynn and Lonny good luck and waved Beetle Bomb

on its way to VIR. Cruising along the highway in

perfect weather, Wynn and Lonny chatted about the

possibilities awaiting them at the Virginia track.

Wouldnt it be great if we could qualify for the national license this weekend? Wynn said. Think about those jaunts to Georgia, Alabama, and Florida

to collect the points. And the final showdown in

Atlanta. Wow! Im thinking, said Lonny as he drove along. It

sounds great. Suddenly Wynn pointed. Hey! Look over

yonder, Lonny! Pulling out of a service station was a bright-

yellow Lotus-Europa!

Like the one that cheated Nancy-Rae, Lonny replied. Think its the same guy?

It might be. Get up closer. Ill check the

53

license. Lonny accelerated and Wynn squinted. It is!

Thats the car!

54

CHAPTER VI

Draft and Slingshot

Lonny drove past, giving Wynn time to look at the

driver, a handsome young man, not much older than

they were. He turned to gaze at Wynn and Beetle

Bomb. Not the slightest trace of recognition!

Then the Lotus roared up behind. For a moment it

hovered close to the buggys bumper, the crisp sound of its finely tuned engine filling the air. It

moved around Beetle Bomb and accelerated. After

the powerful car had pulled away, Lonny noticed

that it turned onto the highway that led to Danville.

You dont suppose, he questioned, that Johnny Lightning is going to VIR?

When they arrived in Danville for registration at

the local Chevrolet dealership, the yellow Lotus was

parked conspicuously in the lot. The headlights had

been taped for protection from minor collisions and

a man was putting numbers on the side.

55

A closer look revealed that the car had been race

prepared. It had a roll bar and a fire extinguisher

mounted behind the seat, and much of the upholstery

had been stripped to lighten the cockpit.

Wynn and Lonny went inside to register and get

their passes. They were handed an entry list by the

girl at the desk. Wynn, who could bear no more

guessing games, went to a phone booth and called

Buds station. When Nancy-Rae answered, he asked her to describe the man who had left without paying

for his gas.

Oh, he was a real handsome guy, she reported. When pressed for details, she remembered that his

hair was blond, his sideburns slightly darker, and

that he wore a large diamond pinkie ring. Wynn

looked out through the glass to see the owner of the

Lotus polishing his car. His hair was blond, and

light sparkled from a ring.

Say no more, Nancy-Rae. This is the one. She wished him luck and reassured him that their

race car was safe and sound.

While Wynn had been phoning, Lonny checked

the entry list for the number on the Lotusforty-six. The entrants name was Harold Sneeman.

Lets try to find out something about Harold, Wynn said. They strolled through the parking lot,

looking at the other cars and occasionally asking if

anyone knew the driver of the yellow Lotus.

56

Sneeman? a curly-haired boy said as he straightened up from polishing his Mini-Cooper

sedan. The girl helping him kept working. Sure I know Sneeman. Hes driving a Lotus this time. The guy has so many new cars its hard to keep track.

He must be rich, Lonny said. Not him. His father. Hes the one with the

bread. The girl stopped and wiped her hands on her

jeans. Hes rich, but weird, she said. How so? Wynn asked. Cheap-cheap. You can say that again, the boy agreed. He

still owes me for some spark plugs he borrowed.

Thats how he gets his jollies, I guess. Wynn and Lonny thanked them for the

information and walked over to where Sneeman was

standing beside his car.

Hi, Harold, Wynn said. I understand you made a hasty exit from a gas station recently and

overlooked paying your bill for ten dollars and thirty

cents. Sneeman did not reply, but looked steadily at

their faces.

Eubanks Shell in Wilkes County, North Carolina, Lonny offered. Now do you remember?

Oh, that junky little station. Harold laughed

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nervously. Some chick polished my windshield but she left mud on the headlight covers.

We work for Eubanks, Wynn said, and would be glad to deliver what you owe. That might be nicer

than reporting you to the police. Okay. Have it your way! Forcing a smile,

Sneeman reached into his pocket and pulled out two

five dollar bills and change. When Wynn put out his

hand to take the money, Sneeman threw it on the

ground at Wynns feet. Pick it up! Wynn said. Its your money, fellow. Pick it up yourself. Wynn grabbed Harold by the shoulder of his

cashmere sweater and cocked his fist, but Lonny

stepped between them. Cool it, Wynn. He isnt worth it.

Lonny walked his buddy aside. We dont want a reputation as troublemakers. They might bar us from

the school before we get started. Wynn nodded and grudgingly bent down to pick

up the scattered money. Suddenly he peripherally

saw a foot flashing toward his head. He turned

quickly and grabbed the leg. In the same fluid

motion he straightened up, sending Sneeman into a

back pinwheel. Harold hit the ground with a thud

and lay stunned, while Wynn retrieved the money.

Self defense, Wynn said as they walked off, leaving others to help Sneeman to his feet.

58

Right, Lonny added. Handsome Harold pushed too far.

They drove Beetle Bomb to the track and set up

their camp for the night. Many of the drivers and

workers were at the site, and as they had at Chimney

Rock, they swapped stories about racing before

turning in for the night. The VIR track, it was said,

was difficult to master and no one could learn how

in one weekend.

The next morning, the Clayborne racers rose

early, fixed breakfast, and dashed cold water from

the infield pond onto their faces.

Im raring to go, old buddy, Wynn said. How about you?

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. But we cant ride broomsticks. Lets find those rental racers. They went to the lot, already alive with cars and drivers,

and sought out their Formula Vees.

Over there, said Lonny. They look like two orphan buggies. Threading through the crowd, they approached the mechanics leaning against the shiny

cars.

Were Redford and Morris, Wynn said. Looking for us?

Sure enough, said a short, stocky man. Im Evans. Call me Shorty. And this heres Dan Hulme.

Youre early birds, Lonny said as they shook hands.

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Thats our job. Get em here and test em out before breakfast.

Have they been through inspection already? Yup, Dan replied. Theyre warm as a mothers heart, Shorty said.

All ready for practice. Say, you boys know anything about Formula Vee racing?

Some, Lonny said. Now weve got to convince the officials.

Dan looked skeptical. He pointed to a booth in

front of which several drivers had lined up. Theyre waiting for you, he said. Good luck!

Wynn and Lonny were chatting with the

examiner a few minutes later, their credentials

ready.

I see youve passed your written test in California, the man said. No need to take another.

Thanks, Wynn said. May we go out for a practice run?

Why not? This track takes lots of learning. Gleeful over the advantage, Wynn and Lonny got

into their cars and started around the three-mile

raceway, carefully studying the complex

combination of up-and-down-hill turns.

The track workers already had deployed to their

stations around the course, ready to report on track

conditions and warn the drivers as the occasion

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demanded.

What do you think of it? Lonny asked when they had completed their practice.

Its tricky. You really have to concentrate. Well, now the experts will show us, Lonny said.

Students in fendered cars were driving onto the

track with an instructor in the passenger seat.

Formula Vees followed an expert to learn by

example.

By lunchtime, the layout was fairly familiar to the

boys, and as Shorty and Dan checked their racers,

they scanned the VIR operations, teeming with

activity.

The cars were arranged in twenty-one different

classes, with four main types represented. Most

common were ordinary street sedans with safety

equipment and racing wheels. Next, factory-

produced sports cars such as MG, Porsche, Corvette,

and Datsun.

Another group comprised two-seaters built only

for racing. The last was the formula class, including

the Formula Vees. These cars were based upon a

formula for their construction. Engine, plus chassis,

plus gears, plus wheels equaled car.

In the case of the Formula Vee, all of the

components came from the standard 1200 cc

Volkswagen Beetle and were fitted into the chassis

especially for racing.

61

As the mechanics finished their work, Shorty

said, You all going to the big shindig tonight? Shindig? Where? Wynn asked. At the Holiday Inn in Danville! Shorty said the

North Carolina Region of the SCCA planned a

weekend party for the participants.

You get to meet a lot of racing guys, he went on.

Thanks for telling us, Wynn said. Well be there!

The afternoon session went off without mishap

because drivers, under the watchful eyes of

instructors, were cautious, checking their daring

until Sundays competition. Late in the afternoon, when the rentals were

returned to the mechanics, Shorty and Dan greeted

the boys with grins.

You guys already done some racing before. Wouldnt you say so, Dan?

Yup. Sure enough you have, Shorty went on, as he

started to check under the hood of Lonnys machine. You oughta do fine tomorrow. Right, Dan?

Yup. Thanks, said Wynn. See you at the bash

tonight. The Holiday Inn was buzzing with racing talk

when the boys arrived. They met competitors and

62

mechanics alike, but there was no sign of Harold.

He just might have a headache, Lonny said. The boys told their new acquaintances about their

California experience and found that most of the

drivers would probably run only regional races

during the year, since this was their first driving

school. It took a good deal of money to be

competitive in the Nationals, they were told. Other

entrants were impressed that Wynn and Lonny had

landed a sponsorship before proving themselves big

winners.

We were just lucky, I guess, Lonny said modestly.

Early on Sunday morning, warm-ups and practice

got started as the nervous competitors prepared for

the first racing of the weekend. Dan and Shorty

announced that all was ready.

How do you feel, old buddy? Wynn asked. Butterflies, as usual. Me, too. Guess Ill never be a man with nerves

of steel. Ill settle down, Lonny said, as soon as the

flag drops. Any wagers, chum? Wynn slapped Lonny on the back. Hey, youre

pretty cocky since that hillclimb. Ill bet a six-pack of cokes that Ill beat you.

Youre on. But youll have to drink it all at once!

63

I figured thered be a catch. Bets off. The banter now gave way to more serious talk.

What about strategy? Wynn asked before sliding down into his car.

Draft and slingshot, Lonny said. He adjusted his helmet and goggles and gave Wynn the thumbs

up sign.

Okay. Good luck! Both were familiar with the technique of drafting.

When one car followed another, the draft, or air

space, between them developed a tow, increasing the

speed of the second car. This enabled it to

slingshot past the one ahead. The flag dropped, and Wynn and Lonny moved

with the front group, dicing for the lead. After

several laps they had a two-car-length lead over the

pack, but they knew that margin could easily be lost

with the slightest error.

As they reached a tight turn on the last lap, both

boys braked hard and Wynn took the lead into the

slow curve. It had a decreasing radius, which

afforded a slow exit before the long back straight.

When Lonny slowed he felt a heavy jar in the

back of his car. Had a suspension part broken? He

turned his head to see the fiberglass body of the car

that had been following him. Out of control, it rolled

over and over.

Lonnys car dropped on the right rear. The

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suspension had let go. He held on tightly and moved

toward the infield grass, where he finally slowed to

a stop.

The entire field had buzzed by, and Wynn was

long gone down the straight to win in a breeze. The

car that had hit Lonnys soon was righted by workers and the driver climbed out unharmed, much

to the boys relief. A few minutes later Wynn and the mechanics ran

up to assess the damage. It proved to be minimal, a

broken shock absorber, and was readily fixed.

You won, huh? Lonny said dejectedly. Congratulations.

It would have been you, Wynn said. I think that guy must have completely forgotten to brake, he

was so concerned with racing you up that hill. Lonny nodded. If it wasnt so corny, Id say

those are the breaks. He looked over the track. Suddenly he said, Hey, Wynn, guess whos coming with fire in his eyes!

65

CHAPTER VII

Sabotage!

Harold Sneeman was walking toward the boys at a

fast clip. He addressed Lonny sarcastically. So you tried the old blocking technique, eh?

Not me, Lonny said. He just forgot to slow down for the tightest turn on the course.

Ill bet! Thats the way it happened, Wynn said hotly.

Not that its any of your business. Sneeman would not be satisfied. When are you

guys going to step up to the real racers and get out

of the kiddie-car class? Wynn smiled. Theyre small but theyre quick.

Besides, its a good way to learn to be a formula driver.

Come on out in my race, Harold taunted. Ill show you what a real automobile will do.

Are you crazy? Lonny said. Its against the

66

rules to run open and closed wheels together. Chicken, huh? Not interested, Wynn said. Tonight, going home, then. Put your wheels

where your mouth is. Racing on the public road, Harold? It was

Wynns turn at sarcasm. You know better than that. Want to keep your license?

Youre full of excuses, hillbilly! Sneeman said as he walked away.

That evening, after final points were tallied and

the logbooks handed out, the Clayborne boys were

ecstatic. Lonny had won the second practice race

with a beautiful slingshot to nip Wynn at the

checkered flag. Both had received high marks and

the privilege of racing their first Eastern season with

National licenses.

They shook hands and Lonny let out a rebel yell.

We did it, Wynn! Just like you said we would! Both were eager to tell Hankin about their good

fortune. After bidding the mechanics good-by,

Wynn headed Beetle Bomb around the track toward

the exit. He took the turns at a leisurely pace, using

the whole road, since traffic went only one way and

it was his last opportunity to practice the proper line

through a turn.

As he neared a spectator walk-over bridge he

heard screeching brakes behind him and glanced in

67

his mirror. The Yellow Lotus! Sneeman had been

speeding to pass the buggy on the inside when

Wynn moved over.

Lonny shouted, He lost it, Wynn. Look out! Hes going into the bridge!

Harolds car skittered sideways, tipped up on two wheels, and slid into the spectator walk-over. It

smashed against the concrete structure with a dull

thump.

Wynn brought Beetle Bomb to a stop and, with

the help of Lonny and several other competitors on

their way out of the track, pulled Harold from his

demolished Lotus. He sat on the ground for a

moment, stunned into silence, with bits of yellow

fiberglass around him.

The ambulance hired to assist drivers during

practice pulled up and an attendant examined

Harold. He was unhurt but would probably have a

headache.

Ill say he will, one of the entrants moaned. Look what he did to his beautiful car!

Dont worry, remarked another. His old man will buy him a new one before the weeks up.

Harold was back on his feet and looking at the

Lotus. It appeared to be a total loss. The frame was

bent on the passenger side. He turned angrily and

said to Wynn. You shut me off. You caused this! Forget it, buddy. One of the drivers came to

68

Wynns defense. He was just leaving like everyone else when you decided to pass him on the right.

Harold could find no one to agree with him and

was furious by the time the wrecker arrived. As he

left, with his Lotus dangling from a hook behind the

tow truck, a witness walked up to Wynn.

That guys bad news if hes not on your side, he said.

What do you mean? Hes got influence. His fathers a big

industrialist. On the board of a couple of banks.

More money than he knows what to do with. Thanks, Wynn said. Ill keep that in mind. The boys started on the long trip home and when

they pulled into Buds darkened station, they saw a big crate sitting beside the door.

Wynn shined the headlights on it and they

stepped out.

Its our engine, Lonny said, delivered by a motor-freight service.

A note from Zink was attached, saying the engine

was in top-notch condition and wishing the boys

well.

Great! Wynn said. Now we dont have to go to Charlotte.

Nancy-Rae and Bud must have locked up before it arrived, Lonny ventured.

They pushed the engine behind an oil-filter-

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display rack, where it could not be seen from the

street, and went home.

The next morning, the boys carried it inside and

started to install it into the race car. Lonny used the

same procedure he had followed before the dyno

tuning. He moved the engine into place with the

block and tackle and connected the tubing.

After a final check on the connections, the

mechanic instructed Wynn to press the starter. The

engine cranked slowly and as Lonny waited for it to

warm, a deep frown creased his forehead.

Sounds very rough, he said. Maybe its still cold, Wynn offered. The

temperature dropped pretty low last night. Lonnys face did not relax, even though the

temperature gauge indicated that the motor had

reached the normal operation level. He signaled

Wynn to shut it off.

Im disappointed, Lonny said sadly. Ill bet Zink wasnt impressed with my engine-building prowess.

But he said it was in good shape, Wynn said. Lonny shrugged and experimented with the

surface tuning, careful not to undo any of the dyno

work. Late that night, after going over a thorough

check list of all the mistakes he could have made,

Lonny decided to check the timing.

I cant help but wonder if the timing is right, he

70

said. It sounds sluggish. He connected his timing light and ran the engine at idle. Wynn watched him

loosen the distributor, turn it slightly, and smile.

Pay dirt! Then he frowned again. You know what that means.

What? Someone tampered with the thing after the dyno

work. The timing was retarded. Some joker loosened

the distributor and turned it. Lucky for us they didnt turn it the other way,

Wynn said.

Right. That would have ruined the engine. Are you sure it didnt happen in shipping?

Wynn suggested.

Lonny shook his head. Positively no. I checked out everything that could have happened in shipping

first. That change was intentional! They worked a while longer, Lonny listening

carefully to the engine. It now appeared to be in

perfect order, and he smiled at the tach indicating

the revs.

They closed the station, returned the key to Bud,

and headed home. When Wynn entered the drive,

the lights were still on and he was surprised to find

Inky visiting his mother.

We had a nice chat, Mrs. Redford said. Ingrid told me a lot about Minnesota.

While Lonny went to clean up, Wynn took Inky

71

home in Beetle Bomb.

You know, she said, Nancy-Rae has a race this weekend. Over near Spruce Pine. Budll be there. Think you fellows could make it?

Id like to. Lonnys supposed to keep the station Saturday, but maybe Dad can take his place.

Great! Thanks for the lift. See you tomorrow. She bounded up the steps and into the house.

On Saturday Mr. Redford agreed to mind Buds garage, and Inky, Wynn, Lonny, Bud, and Nancy-

Rae headed into the hills for the motocross race.

It had showered earlier, and now the countryside

was pleasant with the softness of spring. The trip

passed quickly. On reaching their destination near

rolling mountains, the boys unloaded the bike,

Wynn set it up, and Nancy-Rae walked the damp

track, trying to memorize the dips and turns she

would have to negotiate while Bud and Inky went

for an entry list.

They came back soon and rushed Nancy-Rae to

the start line. The powder-puff race would be under

way in ten minutes.

Im nervous, Nancy-Rae said. She buckled her boots around leather pants, peeled off her jacket, and

wore only a nylon shirt. It would get very warm in

the thirty-minute competition.

Youll do just fine, Inky said. Like you did in Baja.

72

Nancy-Rae pulled on her gloves, new ones that

Bud had given her, with leather ridges on the back to

protect her hands in a fall. The other girls were

warming up their bikes, and she saw that Lonny had

hers ready. The motor sounded strong and clear.

Good luck! Bud called to his daughter. She climbed aboard and pulled into position in

the long row of bikes. They would all rush for the

first narrow turn, first come, first in, and she knew

how crucial the start was.

The starter moved into place and held a furled

green flag in his hand. He pointed at the helmeted

girls one-by-one, and each held up her right hand,

indicating her engine was running and she was

ready.

Hands dropped and gripped handlebars. In an

instant the flag snapped. The whining bikes charged

to the first turn, mud flying off the chunky tires as

they fishtailed.

Suddenly Wynn said, Look. Somethings wrong!

They hooked their foot pegs! Inky screamed. Nancy-Rae and the girl beside her fell behind the

pack and spun around. Both flew off onto the track

as their bikes spilled over, and Nancy-Rae rolled

into a ball on the ground!

73

CHAPTER VIII

The Old Airstrip

Nancy-Raes bike lay on its side, the engine still running, with dirt churning out from the spinning

wheels. She unrolled her body and jumped to her

feet. The rest of the pack was still in sight. The girl

scurried across the ground, threw in the clutch on

the handlebar to keep the engine running, and

struggled to right the heavy machine.

Come on. I know you can do it, Bud called from the fence and bit his lip as he watched his

daughter wrestle with the bike, which was almost

twice her weight. Nancy-Rae swung her leg over it,

popped the clutch, and tore off toward the first turn.

The race now would be a catch-up game. The girl

she had tangled with had been unable to restart her

bike and had rolled it to the side.

The contestants appeared at the start-finish line,

still tightly bunched at the end of lap one. Wynn

74

looked at his watch, trying to get an interval time on

Nancy-Rae. When she appeared at the line, riding as

hard as she could go, the crowd cheered. The mishap

had made her a