GT CHALLENGE

Wynn and Lonny sell their Formula Vee racer and

get a Datsun 260Z to enter GT competition. But

disaster strikes when they learn they have bought a

stolen car.

They turn to their former sponsor, industrialist

Jeff Kuralt, for help, only to find that he has a

problem of his own. Someone is taking orders

illegally for his new electronic gadget, the Altagem,

which is not yet on the market. Jeff agrees to buy the

260Z from its rightful owner if they will watch for

the swindlers. Then the boys enter the Camel GT

Challenge and meet their old friends Inky Larsson

and Nancy-Rae Eubanks, who plan to race in the

Baby Grand.

When they befriend Philip Harlan, an actor turned

driver, there is more trouble. Harlans ruthless enemies play one dirty trick after another to

eliminate the handsome TV star from the tracks.

Will they go so far as to attempt murder? It seems

so, despite Wynn and Lonnys intervention. Read this exciting story about the dangers and

adventures Wynn and Lonny encounter while their

minds are set on one thingwinning the GT Challenge!

WYNN AND LONNY RACING SERIES

The Mexicali 1000

Road Race of Champions

GT Challenge

Gold Cup Rookies

Dead Heat at Le Mans

The Midnight Rally

Wynn and Lonny Racing Series

GT CHALLENGE

BY

ERIC SPEED

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT 1976 BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PUBLISHED SIMULTANEOUSLY IN CANADA

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 75-17390

ISBN: 0-448-12167-0 (Trade Edition)

ISBN: 0-448-13330-x (Library Edition)

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I GRADUATING TO A 260Z 1

II THE EXTRA WRENCH 14

III REUNION AT ATLANTA 25

IV TIMING TROUBLE 33

V INKYS HARD LUCK 42 VI A SHINER FOR BRAD 51

VII GOOD OLD JABBO 62

VIII A FLAPPING DOOR 72

IX QUARTZ-LIGHT ASSIST 82

X SKID-PAD MAGIC 94

XI A SICK MG 104

XII A SPY IN THE HOUSE? 116

XIII THE POGO STICK PRINCIPLE 127

XIV THAR SHE BLOWS! 136

XV TEN DAYS IN THE CLINK 146

XVI RED AND YELLOW FLAGS 157

XVII OUT OF THE PAST 167

XVIII SOCKO 177

GT CHALLENGE

1

CHAPTER I

Graduating to a 260Z

I hope we can find another race car as good as that one, Wynn Redford said, as he and Lonny Morris watched their Formula Vee racer being towed away

from Bud Eubankss garage. Seeing that car go is like saying good-by to an old friend.

The nineteen-year-old boys had sold the car that

had carried them to the National Championship for

Formula Vee in the Sports Car Club of America the

year before. Its loss left them without a racer for the

coming season.

That car was as stable and easy to drive as any racer ever could be, Wynn said. He was a tall, blond, rangy youth from Clayborne, North Carolina,

a small town in Wilkes County. Wynn had learned

to drive on the twisting mountain roads around his

home. His skill behind the wheel was matched by a

mature outlook on safety.

2

I know what you mean, Lonny replied. Ive spent so much time working on that car that I could

do it in my sleep. Lonny was a contrast to his partner. Of medium

height with a stocky build, he had light-brown hair

and an intense look that showed his determination in

everything he undertook. Although he, too, had an

SCCA competition license, Lonny preferred to be

the team mechanic while Wynn did the driving.

The two boys walked back into the garage, where

Bud was working. Why dont you try to make some money racing this summer? he asked.

The middle-aged garage owner had raced stock

cars in his youth and had made enough money to

open his own place in Clayborne. Wynn and Lonny

often helped him out.

Youve been reading Autoweek for days, Bud went on, trying to find just the right car. Why not try the Charlotte newspaper, too? It has a special

section on imported and sports cars. Good idea! Wynn said. Ill be right back! He

hopped into the boys yellow buggy, Beetle Bomb. Black exhaust smoke spouted from the tail pipe as

he roared toward the nearest newsstand.

Bud ignored the irregular departure and continued

his discussion of the merits of professional racing

with Lonny. There are two ways to go road racing and make money, he said. First, you can stay in

3

the SCCA and race the Formula 500 series. This has

enough prize money to make everything worthwhile.

However, you would be racing against teams with

hundreds of thousands of dollars behind them.

On the other hand, you could race with the International Motor Sports Association, IMSA for

short. The IMSA GT series for Grand Touring cars

offers almost as much money as the Can-Am or

Formula 500 series. As you know, they race mostly

Corvettes, Porsches, Camaros, and Mustangs.

Theyve all won GT races at one time or another, but the best cars have been the Porsches and

Corvettes. I thought the Datsun two-sixty Z was a good car

for GT racing, Lonny said. It is, but its fairly new. The two-sixty Z needs a

good team to develop it. Only one team has really

worked on a two-sixty Z. Bob Sharpe in Wilton,

Connecticut, has done very well. Screeching brakes heralded Wynns return. Ive

got it! he cried. Theres a place in Charlotte selling a two-sixty Z car!

Lets see! Lonny leaned over his shoulder eagerly as Wynn spread out the paper. The ad read:

FOR SALE: Datsun 260Z GT car prepared for

competition in IMSA GT Challenge series

racing. Conforms to all rules. Perfect

4

condition. Immaculate throughout with all

options. By appointment only at Competition

Motors.

Seems Ive heard of that place, Bud Eubanks reflected. Theyre pretty well established. Should be a good company to do business with.

Well go in the morning, Wynn declared. They spent the remainder of the day avidly

discussing I MSA racing. Before six the next

morning, Beetle Bomb was off through the

mountains, headed toward Charlotte. On the main

highway the trip would be shorter, but the

adventurous youths always drove the back roads.

During a quick stop for coffee, they telephoned

Competition Motors to set up an appointment to see

the Datsun at nine oclock. They pulled into the company parking lot on

time. Beside the showroom sat a sparkling orange-

and-yellow Datsun 260Z with white trim and black

interior.

Amos Jackson, the manager, was tightening the

straps to hold the Datsun securely to its trailer.

Good morning, he called with a friendly wave. Are you the boys who wanted to see the Datsun?

Yes, sir, Wynn replied. Good, Jackson said. Ive arranged for us to be

at the Charlotte Motor Speedway at nine thirty for a

5

little trial run. You have competition licenses, dont you?

Sure do, Wynn replied, jumping out of the buggy and handing over his license for inspection.

Lonny and I attended SCCA drivers schools in California and at Virginia International Raceway, he explained.

Wynn here is a national champion, Lonny added.

Thats fine, Jackson said as he returned the credentials. Now lets get to the track. You tow the trailer and Ill follow in my Jaguar.

In a few minutes the group pulled in at the

Speedway. Lonny drove Beetle Bomb into the pits

while Wynn stopped at the office to ask what a good

lap time would be for the Datsun. An IMSA GT race

had been run there that summer. A quick check of

the records indicated that one minute and thirty

seconds would be competitive.

Before starting the engine, Lonny opened the

hood to check the water and oil. Looks like the guy who built this car knew what he was doing, Lonny said as he peered into the engine compartment.

It has Aeroquip steel-mesh hoses for water and oil, and catch tanks for overflows. Uh, why doesnt it have fuel injection?

The owner couldnt afford it, Jackson replied. This car doesnt belong to Competition Motors. Its

6

owned by a Californian named Herbert S.

Ballantine. He brought it in last week and asked us

to sell it for him. Why is he selling? Wynn asked as he put on his

Nomex flame-resistant drivers suit. He said he needed money in a hurry and had to

give up racing. In fact, thats why Im able to offer you boys such a good price. Ballantine said he was

broke and needed the money as soon as possible. Wynn and Lonny exchanged suspicious glances.

Race cars being sold in a hurry usually had

something wrong with them.

Wynn strapped himself in and punched the starter

button. The engine roared to life. After a short

warm-up he pushed the clutch pedal down, selected

first gear, and set off.

While he drove down pit lane, Wynn wondered

briefly why Ballantine would come to North

Carolina from California to sell his car. Out on the

track the thought passed as the challenge of driving

demanded his attention.

Wynn drove slowly at first, then gradually

increased his speed. After ten laps he was going at

racing speeds all around the 2.25 mile course.

In the pits Lonny kept two stop watches running.

One timed each lap with a split-second hand. The

other timed the car through various corners to

determine which ones were giving most trouble.

7

At the end of thirty minutes practice, Wynn brought the car into the pits. Its really fun to drive, he said as he unfastened his safety helmet. It has a lot more power than the Vee did, and it goes much faster. But I had to work up my nerve

before I could take the high-banked turns without

letting off the gas. Lonny looked at his timing chart and frowned.

You werent quite fast enough. Your top speed was about the same as the Porsches, but your lap times

were four seconds slower. Well have to work on the brakes and handling if we buy it.

Jackson opened the hood and surveyed the

smoking hot engine. The Porsches have motors that cost over fifteen thousand dollars each. If this engine

will pull you along as fast as a Porsche, youve really got something good.

Could be, Wynn said. How much does Ballantine want?

Just eight thousand complete with the trailer. But he must have it in cash by next week.

Aside, after a serious discussion, Wynn and

Lonny agreed to use the four thousand dollars they

had received for the Vee as a deposit.

Lets go back to the office and draw up the papers, Jackson said.

The Datsun was loaded aboard the trailer, and the

two boys headed back toward town. Lonny drove

8

carefully, but his mind was not on the road.

Weve got to get a loan he started to say when Wynn interrupted.

Watch out for that car! A dark Chevy hot-rod had suddenly appeared just

inches away from Lonnys door. It edged closer and closer until its front bumper was almost touching the

yellow buggys left front fender. Lonny slowed down slightly and pulled farther to

the right. Glancing over at the dark car he could see

two silly-faced youths grinning back at him.

Theyre crazy, Wynn said to his friend. Theyre trying to wreck us!

The black car suddenly darted ahead and swerved

sharply into Beetle Bombs lane. Hold on! Lonny cried. He twisted the wheel to

the right to avoid the collision. The other car was

just inches ahead.

The trailers coming around! Wynn cried as he looked over his shoulder. Its going to tip over!

Frantically Lonny fought for control. The wildly

swinging trailer was in the left-hand lane! Lonny cut

the steering wheel back to the left and slammed the

gas pedal to the floor.

I think Ive caught it, he said as the buggy jumped forward. Beetle Bombs right-front fender brushed the black Chevys high rear bumper as it moved into the left lane. The trailer veered wildly

9

twice more, then obediently fell in behind as Lonny

skillfully played the steering wheel back and forth.

In the dark car the two hot-rodders howled with

laughter. The driver hung his arm out the window,

beat on his door with glee, and glanced back over

his shoulder.

Then the Chevy swerved just as the four-lane

highway split into two roads. The right lane turned

sharply to merge with the Interstate.

Hell never make it! Wynn shouted. Smoke boiled from the Chevys brakes as the

driver panicked. The high back end snapped around

viciously and the car slid up the road backwards.

Just before hitting the guard rail, it stopped

miraculously.

Thats the dumbest trick Ive ever seen, Wynn exclaimed. We ought to go back there and teach those guys a lesson.

Forget it, his calmer partner said. Its too dangerous to back up the road, and theyll be gone before we can run over there. Lets close this deal and get home.

At Competition Motors, Jackson had already

prepared the bill of sale. The boys could take

delivery of the Datsun when they paid the remaining

four thousand dollars. In the meantime, their down

payment would remain in a bank account jointly

held by Competition and themselves.

10

To insure delivery of the same car they had

tested, Wynn jotted down the rollbar number on the

bill of sale.

Lets get out of here and see Jeff Kuralt, Wynn said as he took his turn driving. Maybe we can get a loan from him and see if his company would be

interested in sponsoring us again. Kuralt owned the Altadyne Corporation in

Newgate, which manufactured aircraft altimeters

and other precision instruments. He had sponsored

the boys successful season in Formula Vee in The Road Race of Champions.

An hours drive put the youths in the small mountain community, which was not far from

Clayborne. At the Altadyne factory, Kuralt greeted

them heartily.

Come in, boys. How are my champions today? Kuralts office was decorated with photos of their Formula Vee in action. The championship trophy

they had won was kept in a glass case next to the

desk.

Were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Lonny said.

So I can see. Whats up? Were going to race in IMSA, Jeff, Wynn said.

And wed like to have Altadyne as a sponsor. Well give your companys name exposure at the major race tracks of the country this season, and well

11

work hard to see that you are represented by a good,

clean car. How much will it cost? A loan of four grand, Lonny said. Sounds reasonable, the industrialist said.

Youre on! Some time later, they worked out the details.

Kuralts firm would provide the money the boys needed, and they would pay it back from prize

money. Sponsorship money would also be available

to keep the team running.

In addition, Kuralt said, smiling, I could use a couple of creative mechanical boys around here on

special test projects. Ive cooked up some new products for next year, and we need help in working

out the bugs. Are you interested? Are we? Wow! What a break! Lonny exploded. The boys were jubilant. The next day they

returned to Charlotte to pick up the car. Jackson had

loaded it with the spare parts promised, and before

nightfall the new racer was at Virginia International

Raceway near Danville, Virginia, for a thorough

testing.

The session confirmed their Charlotte findings.

The Datsun was well built but did not go fast

enough to win.

It doesnt follow the line too well, Wynn said to his friend after the final trial. You set it up on a

12

line and it just pushes its way to the outside. When I

try to hold it down, the front end hops. Its probably just my driving style. Ill get used to it later and go faster.

Lonny disagreed. The problem is in the front suspension. Weve got to take it apart and test everything. Maybe its a shock absorber or too stiff a sway bar. Lets get it back to Clayborne and start to work.

The boys spent the next week working on the car.

For convenience, they moved from Clayborne and

took an apartment near the Altadyne factory. Their

new quarters were above a two-car garage owned by

one of Kuralts vice presidents, and within a short while it had become the headquarters of the

Altadyne Racing Team.

One Monday evening, when Wynn and Lonny

returned from work, Wynn found a new copy of the

weekly auto racing newspaper Autoweek in a batch

of mail that had been forwarded from Clayborne.

Listen to this, Lonny, he said. It says someone has been buying cars from classified ads, using

forged checks stamped Certified Draft. The; checks are no good, and the guy sells the car to

somebody else before the original owner finds out. What are you supposed to do about it? Call the FBI in Chicago, or the local police. The two jumped up. Lonny ran downstairs to the

13

garage while Wynn picked up the cars records. Wynn! Lonny cried in alarm. The rollbar

number has been filed off! Its written on the bill of sale, Wynn said,

searching through the papers. Here it is. He picked up the telephone and asked for the FBI in Chicago.

After a brief conversation he turned, looking white.

Lonny, we bought a stolen car!

14

CHAPTER II

The Extra Wrench

Lonny watched in shocked disbelief as his friend

obtained the details on the stolen car. Yes, I understand, Wynn said. Youll get in touch with Competition Motors. Brad Koehler of Los Angeles

is the rightful owner. Youll contact him and hell pick up his car.

Wynn slowly hung up the phone. Lonny dropped

into a chair and put his face in his hands. Oh, brother! We hardly had the two-sixty Z long enough

to believe it was really ours. Now weve lost it and all the money we got for our Formula Vee.

Worse than that, Wynn moaned. Weve lost the money Jeff loaned us in good faith. I dread

breaking the news to him. The dejected boys went downstairs into the shop

to look at the 260Z, its yellow-and-orange paint

freshly polished after their VIR test session. Lonny

15

had already placed the front end on jack stands,

removed the wheels, and started to disassemble the

faulty suspension.

I wish you could have talked, little race car, he said ruefully. Then you would have kept us from getting into this terrible mess.

Next afternoon they received a call from the FBI

regarding the arrival time of Brad Koehlers plane. They were to pick him up the following day at

Winston-Salem Airport at two in the afternoon. He

would be wearing a Camel GT Racing jacket.

The two boys, unable to shake their gloom,

parked Beetle Bomb in the airport lot the next

afternoon and went into the main terminal. The

public-address system blared, announcing that the

jet from Los Angeles was arriving now and would

unload at Gate Four.

I guess when we see the guy, well be able to believe our misfortune, Wynn said.

As they scanned the passengers, they tried to spot

Koehler.

Hey, that must be him, Wynn exclaimed, pointing at a young brown-haired man wearing a

gold-and-red jacket with the GT emblem on the

front.

Must be. Hes much younger than I expected. They walked over to meet the visitor, who

greeted them with a friendly handshake.

16

Boy, am I glad to see you. I had about given up hope that Id ever see my car again.

Wynn and Lonny realized that they had

unconsciously blamed Brad for their troubles. But

they liked the friendly young man right away,

finding much in common with him as they chatted

on their drive back to Newgate.

I had big plans for this year, Brad related, too big. I took on a dark-horse entry because I believe

that with the proper preparation the two-sixty Z can

blow the doors off the factory Porsches and

Corvettes.

Lonny nodded. It probably could. Well, after I got into the project, the engineering

school I attend raised the tuition. So I had to sell the

car. When I found out I got a bogus check, I quit

school. You really had some rotten luck, Wynn said

sympathetically.

It turned around when you called the FBI. Now things are starting to look bright again.

For you they are, Lonny said. For us they went dim very fast.

I know how you feel. Believe me, Brad said. Im really sorry about this whole thing.

Back at the shop Brad stopped beside the car and

began to comment on the work Lonny had started on

17

the suspension. Looks like youre on to the right track, he remarked. I had plans to take the front end apart and go out for some skid-pad testing to get

the handling sorted out. I brought my drawings with

me if youd like to take a look at them. Sure, Wynn said. But whats skid-pad

testing? Lonny explained it to his friend. Ive read about

it, though Ive never tried it. Sounds like a keen idea. You pick a set area, Wynn, and drive the car in

a circle as fast as the laws of physics will let you,

forcing all of the cars bad or good characteristics to reveal themselves under pressure.

Thats right, Brad added. Then you make very careful observations on the angle the car assumes.

Photographing it under various stresses with a

Polaroid camera is a good way to make precise

adjustments. A constant series of times after each

circumference will reveal your progress, Lonny said.

Testing in a nutshell, we called it at Cal Tech, Brad put in. The boys noted the sadness in his voice

as he mentioned the university. They realized that he

had been forced to postpone his education because

of the same swindler that had stolen their money.

Maybe Brads loss had been greater than theirs. Listen, Brad, Lonny said. Well catch the

18

crook who swindled us before the season is over,

and you can go back to school. Meantime, why

dont you stay a few days and well work on the car together?

Hey, how about it? Wynn added. We have a perfect test area on an old airstrip on

our farm, Lonny said. Great! Brad agreed. Three heads are better

than one any time. Soon they were working, swapping ideas on the

suspension of the yellow-and-orange sports car.

After a dinner of hamburgers and beans, they

finished their assembly and loaded the racer on the

trailer.

The next morning they drove to the Morris farm

to test the car. Since no one owned a camera, Lonny

depended on the naked eye to judge the

improvements. Wynn and Brad shared driving,

while Lonny made notes and calculations. Archie,

his faithful hound dog, yapped excitedly as he

watched Brad go into the tight turn at the end of the

strip. See how the front end pushes there, Wynn? Lonny said. Hes tugging on the wheel with all hes got but the car has a mind of its own.

I know what you mean, Wynn replied. You

Just then the racers front end tipped up and dropped down sharply.

19

Oh, my gosh, Lonny! Wynn called out. Hes dropped a wheel!

Lonny ran toward the out-of-control Datsun. Brad

bounced in the cockpit as the car headed into the

muddy field. The fenders filled with clay, and the

car soon ground to a halt, mired in the mud.

Oh, brother, Brad said, climbing out through the window. Wait until your father sees what I did to his field. Hell give me a one-way ticket back to L.A.

Dont worry about that, Lonny said. By spring the ruts will be grown over in hay and hell never know it happened. But look at the mud in your

shoes! Brad laughed and sloshed to the back of the racer.

Youll have the same problem after you help me push the car out of here!

The three struggled and shoved until the Datsun

rolled onto hard ground again with a great sucking

sound.

Next stop, car wash, Wynn said. Lonny nodded. Theres another errand we

should not forget, he said. We havent told Jeff Kuralt yet that we lost his loan!

Youre right. Why dont we drive over after we get the car cleaned?

Would you like to meet our ex-sponsor, Brad? Wynn asked.

20

Sure. He sounds like a great guy. Later, after Brad and Jeff were introduced in

Kuralts office, Wynn said, Im afraid I have some very bad news for you, Jeff.

Shoot. As he heard the story, Kuralt remained pensive.

He was obviously concerned about the financial loss

but, much to their relief, very understanding of their

problem.

Its a rotten deal, he said as Wynn completed the story. I know you must feel like first-class boneheads for getting swindled. But believe me, you

dont have to be an inexperienced teen-ager to be taken by a crook. He paused and looked at them intently.

I have faith in you, fellows. You did a first-class job for me once before. Im not going to let some second-rate swindler keep you off the track. He turned to Brad. How about selling your car again? Only this time well make a trip down to my bank and get a good check for you and a bill of sale for

me. Oh, thats great. Brads voice sounded a little

flat. I mean, thanks, Mr. Kuralt. You dont exactly sound overjoyed. I thought

you wanted the car off your hands. I guess I did. I mean, I know I did. I need the

money to pay some debts. He was quiet a moment.

21

I dont suppose you could use an extra wrench this summer?

You bet! Lonny said. If we go the GT route, well need to make pit stops for fuel and tires. Ive only got two hands, so youre on!

The four shook hands and thanked Jeff for getting

them off the hook.

Another thing, Kuralt said. Before we go to the bank, let me fill you in on a problem thats got me completely in the dark.

Jeff told them about a new electronic ignition

system he had developed to be used on high-

performance automobiles. It will guarantee longer spark plug life, more positive ignition, wet weather

starts, you name it. And we plan to market it as the

Altagem. Good name, Wynn agreed. I like the sound of it, Brad added. Electronic

ignitions are the big thing on sports cars on the West

Coast, even for street use. You have a market ready

and waiting for it. But heres the trouble, Jeff went on. Somehow

samples of the Altagem have gotten out of the plant.

I assembled them myself and kept them in my

workroom. So it has to be an inside job, but I cant for the life of me pinpoint an employee who would

do that. Are they selling your idea to another company?

22

Brad asked.

No, more devious than that, Jeff replied. A phony salesman in Charlotte is showing the samples

to dealers, taking bogus orders, and getting a fat

advance payment, which he pockets. Then the

people who have been cheated ring my phone off the

wall. He sighed. The item already has a bad name and I havent even gone into production yet. So far the police have been no help because they have few

contacts who know the racing game and the cons

who associate with it. So you want us to keep our eyes and ears open

for a phony salesman, right? Wynn asked. Thats it, and nail him! It means a lot to me to

keep a good name. Wynn and Lonny decided to drive to Charlotte

the next day to search for the crook. Meanwhile,

Brad would fly to Los Angeles with his check from

Jeff. He would pay all his bills, then drive back to

meet the boys and start preparing for the season.

Brad was eager to show them his MG TD, which he

had spent hours restoring. This proud possession had

only enough room to transport him, his one suitcase,

and a box of engineering books.

When the boys arrived in Charlotte, they headed

for an auto dealer who had reported a swindle.

Champ Cars had ordered ten of the ignition systems,

making a down payment of three hundred dollars.

23

The owner was angry.

Yeah, I remember the character who sold them to me. I was so taken by the product that I didnt pay enough attention to him, I guess, or I would have

realized he was a sneaky-looking type! How so? Wynn asked. He had eyes real close together and was always

pushing his black hair off his forehead. Did it so

often he made it all greasy in the front. That was

sure a nifty little gadget he had, though. The boys assured him the Altagem would soon be

on the market. They thanked the man and decided to

visit their old friend Ed Zink, who had designed

their championship Formula Vee.

The tall slender man welcomed the boys to his

shop and showed them some new Super Vee racers

that were in the works. They described the swindler

to him, and he exclaimed, That fellow was in here, too! About two weeks ago! I told him I didnt want to tie up my money yet.

Lucky for you, Ed, Wynn said, or it would; have been tied up for good.

Ed remembered the mans name: A. D. Poole. His description matched the Champ Car dealers but Ed added, I guess I was somewhat suspicious. I asked the guy questions, and though it was a unique

product, his technical knowledge was close to zero. They thanked Zink and left. Back in Beetle Bomb,

24

Lonny wrote down the description of the swindlers car Ed had given them. Nineteen seventy-three Oldsmobile, yellow, with special mags, he mumbled. Wynn, do you see what I see?

Wynn had already accelerated Beetle Bomb in

pursuit of a yellow Olds that was pulling away from

a Toyota dealership on the corner. A man with very

dark hair was driving.

That could be the guy! he said, excited. The Olds headed into downtown Charlotte. Wynn

weaved through the thickening rush-hour traffic.

Hurry, Wynn! Get that light on yellowoh, my gosh, look out!

A garbage truck had jumped the light. Wynn

stepped on the brakes, throwing the dune buggy

sideways but it slid helplessly into the intersection!

25

CHAPTER III

Reunion at Atlanta

The buggy halted sideways in the intersection.

Lonny slid down in his seat as the garbage truck

rumbled by. One of the men riding on the back of

the truck shook his fist at them.

Whew! That was more than close, Wynn declared. He jumped the red, and I stretched the yellow. He restarted the engine and backed the buggy up while horns honked on all sides. Wynn

drove cautiously out of the intersection, heading

back on the trail of the suspect, but he was no longer

to be seen.

Sorry, Lonny, weve lost our manoh, oh. Weve attracted a chase of our own! Wynn pulled over to the curb while a police car stopped behind.

An officer got out and walked up to them.

Driving a little too fast for the city streets, werent you, boys? He examined Wynns license. Ill just

26

give you a warning this time. You might get away

with racing up in the hills, but around Charlotte,

lets be more conservative. Wynn nodded a thank-you and moved through

the gears slowly, watching the policeman in his

mirror. When the squad car finally turned down a

side street, he relaxed. Boy, am I glad to see him go. All I need now is to lose my street license and

see my racing license go along with it. Wynn, hold it! Lonny gripped his arm and

pointed to the entrance of the Swamp Fox Bar and

Grill.

No one there! Wynn said. Someone was, Lonny replied. And he looked

just like the man in the Olds. Maybe he stopped off

for a drink after another big sale. Wynn parked the buggy while Lonny went inside.

He returned shortly, shaking his head. Too dark in there to find the back of my own hand. Do you see

the car anywhere? No. But lets wait a while and see if he shows up

again. Their strategy paid off. Twenty minutes later a

slender man with closely trimmed dark hair walked

out the door and across the street. He stood for a

moment beside an occupied phone booth, looking at

his watch. Then he walked away briskly.

The boys jumped out of Beetle Bomb and

27

followed. The man headed into the early-movie

crowd in the SouthPark Mall. Wynn tried to keep up

with him without being noticed, but he lost their

quarry as the man merged with the workers going to

the cafeteria for dinner.

No use, he said dejectedly. Im not even sure this is the right guy.

Lonny nodded. Lets report to the police. Then well head home.

The police promised to warn dealers in the area and to look out for the swindler. They would contact

Jeff Kuralt in case there was any news.

That evening, while working on the Datsun in the

shop, the boys got a phone call from their friends

Inky Larsson and Nancy-Rae Eubanks. Buds daughter was visiting Inky in Minnesota. Both girls

had joined the boys in past racing adventures and it

appeared they would soon do it again. This time

they planned to hit the circuit as competitors. They

had purchased a Dodge Colt and were preparing it

for the Baby Grand series, the Goodrich Radical

Challenge.

You wont believe this, Inky! Wynn said with glee. Lonny and I are getting a two-sixty Z ready for the Camel GT Challenge series, and the Baby

Grand races are run on the same IMSA circuit! Lonny could hear her happy shriek across the;

room. He took the phone and said, Your races are

28

on Saturday and ours on Sunday. We can pit for

each other. Well give you a hand with fuel stops if we can get an expert lap-timing team in return.

Sure thing, Inky said. Well meet you at Road Atlanta Tuesday night or Wednesday for the first

race. Hey, if we can get enough people together we

can share the three hundred dollar track rental and

do some testing before the weekend! Right. Look for a red tent and a green car, Inky

told him. Number thirteen. Lonny was about to hang up, when Wynn

motioned to him and took the phone again. Listen, on your travels, how about keeping an eye out for a

crook? Is he good looking? Quit the jokes. Hes swindling Jeff. Wynn told

Inky about the Altagem and the stolen sports cars.

Its enough to make you put a lock on your gas tank, Inky said. Well investigate around here for leads before we take off.

Thanks. And good luck. An hour later Brad called. He had arrived safely

and had tuned up his MG for the 2500 mile jaunt to

Newgate. Ive been in contact with the FBI, he said. Three of the remaining swindled cars have been recovered. One is still out. All had their

identifying plates tampered with.

29

Any clue to the crook? No. He used different names, or maybe its more

than one crook. By the way, all cars were stolen in

Orange County, California, within three days of

each other, but were sold in different states. Four days later Brad arrived in Newgate. His MG

TD was a beauty even though it was covered with

dust and bug stains after the long trip.

Jeff inspected it carefully. You know, the first car I owned as a teen-ager was a nineteen fifty-six

MG TD. I love them. He climbed in and took it for a spin around the factory, while Brad looked on with

pride.

Then he parked it and turned to the boys. Well, lets get to work. Phony Altagem sales have now been reported in Atlanta. How about taking a trip

and investigating for me? Wynn grinned. We were planning to go there

tomorrow anyway. Were meeting Inky and Nancy-Rae, wholl pit for us at the race this weekend.

Jeff nodded. The crooks have to operate among sports enthusiasts, he said. And youll see a lot of them at Road Atlanta. Keep your ears open.

Any more activity in Charlotte? Lonny asked. No. All is quiet there. The boys loaded their spares and tools. The

Datsun, complete with a fresh suspension setup, was

on the trailer behind their faithful tow vehicle Beetle

30

Bomb. Brad would bring up the rear in his MG. The

passenger seat was stacked with spare tires.

Sure theres enough room for the driver? Bud Eubanks joshed Brad when they stopped at his

station and filled all vehicles with gas. Tell that little gal of mine, Nancy-Rae, to come see her old

papa. It gets lonely around here and who knows,

maybe I could give her a few pointers on that racer

she and Inky plan on driving. Dont want to make any bets, Bud, Lonny

quipped, but I think she has tentative plans to stable her Colt in your station.

Bud laughed. Thats fine with me. Ill even furnish the hay.

After a seven-hour trip, the boys pulled into the

red clay infield of Road Atlanta, the mammoth track

outside the capital city. They decided to set up camp

on a knoll, since showers were a frequent occurrence

in the foothills of the Appalachians. Brad went for

water to make a pot of iced tea and to stir up their

freeze-dried dinner on the camping stove.

Wynn and Lonny, meanwhile, looked for a

bright-red tent. They noticed a green race car on the

horizon moving slowly down the infield road.

Lonny, maybe thats the girls! Wynn said. It was. Inky stopped the car and jumped from

behind the wheel. The boys ran to meet the tall,

pretty blond with the pert face and turned-up nose.

31

Hi. I see you made it in time, Inky said. Nancy-Rae limped around the front of the car.

Her bad leg, injured in a childhood accident, was

stiff from the long drive. Playfully she kicked Lonny

in the shin.

Hows the worlds meanest redhead? he asked her.

Nancy-Rae grinned. We missed your illustrious company while preparing our new car.

Our technical advice, you mean, Lonny corrected.

Brad walked up with two cups. You must be the gals I heard so much about, he said.

Hey, hes okay, Inky said and took the iced tea. Lets hire him as water boy.

Before I forget it, Brad said, I just talked to a fellow over at the faucet. His names Velec and he says he and about five other guys have tabs on the

track and would like to go in on a rental. How about

it, girls? Would you like to test, too? You bet, Inky answered. The only time we

have on the car right now is back and forth on my

parents driveway. That leaves a little to be desired. A tall blond man approached them. He had a

cocky walk, and his head tipped to one side with a

crooked grin. Whos the chicks? he demanded. Around the NASCAR pits, we got rules to keep the women at home.

32

Wynn and Lonny glanced at Inky, waiting for the

familiar flush in her cheeks that indicated anger. She

clenched her fists, and the boys hoped Velec would

not choose to engage in a showdown. Inky was a

karate expert!

But the man looked at her benignly. You can hang around, he decided. But keep your bobby pins out of our carburetors, and stay away from the

track! Are you crazy? Nancy-Rae demanded. Were

IMSA members, license holders, and were going to race whether you like it or not!

Velec looked at the Number-13 Dodge Colt and

his face suddenly turned sour. You didnt think you were going to share my test track with a couple of

birds, did you? he asked Brad. Before the boy could reply, a voice behind him

said, I dont recall that you are the owner of this establishment, Nick!

A handsome man in a striped tee shirt and faded

jeans had walked up behind them. Velec wheeled

around, his fists clutched!

33

CHAPTER IV

Timing Trouble

The newcomer stepped aside and shook his finger at

Velec. Please. No fisticuffs, he said, teasing. Of course not. We wouldnt want to damage that

pretty face, Velec snarled. You need it because you could never make a living as a driver!

Velec stomped away, leaving the racer with the

young people. Hes uptight about girls and cars, he said. Typical stock-car driver attitude.

One of the good old boys, eh? Lonny said. Right. But the other guys dont mind. The pits

need a bit of good scenery. By the way, my names Philip Harlan.

After the friends had introduced themselves,

Harlan assured them the rental was all squared

away. I spoke to the owner. Hell be here in the morning. Just pay your money and sign the

insurance release. We can run from nine to five and

34

therell be wreckers and an ambulance on hand in case of emergency.

You know something, Nancy-Rae said suddenly, you look just like that guy who plays the detective on the TV series

Homicide Squad. Thats the one! Its funny. People tell me that all the time, he

replied with an embarrassed laugh.

One of the other drivers walked up and slapped

Harlan on the back. Dont let him put you on, miss. He is Sam Statton, private eye.

The girls were excited and impressed. Nancy-Rae

blushed slightly.

No kidding, Wynn asked. How did an actor get the racing bug?

I was tired of turning over all those neat chase scenes to stuntmen, Harlan replied, so I went to a California driving school and started doing all my

own cops-and-robber hunts through the cardboard

sets. The next thing I knew, I had bought a Porsche

Carrera and a drivers suit. Ive heard that stars often have contract troubles

if they engage in dangerous pastimes, Brad commented.

Thats not the half of it, Harlan admitted. My manager used to call me day and night about all the

gray hair I was giving him.

35

How did you win him to your side? Lonny asked.

I sent him a couple of tickets to Riverside, and hes been cheering me on ever since!

After dinner around a campfire, the drivers

decided to rent the track bright and early and agreed

to collect the money from everyone, including the

disgruntled Velec, who stayed inside his camper.

They spent the evening bench racing, exchanging tales of adventures from the last season. The boys

made some guarded inquiries about the Altagem, but

no one seemed to know what they were talking

about.

We couldnt find a clue around the Minnesota crowd either, Inky told Wynn. I suppose we have to just keep probing.

Wynn nodded and suggested that they turn in so

as to get a full days run on the difficult 2.52-mile road course. Wynn knew the track well since this

had been the scene of his victory in The Road Race

of Champions, but Lonny had seen it only from pit

side.

Early the following morning Wynn took the

Datsun out to warm it up, returning after three laps.

He did not seem pleased with the autos performance when he took off his helmet and

handed it to Brad.

Lonny jotted down the temperatures and

36

pressures as Wynn called them out. It has enough power, Lonny. Feels good and strong through the

uphills and stable under acceleration on the back

straight, but it tried to plow right into the bridge

before the start-finish line even though I wasnt going at speed yet. It just refuses to steer without

slowing down to a creep. He climbed through the window since the door

was permanently closed for safety reasons, and

began to rub his shoulders. I feel like Ive been lifting weights all morning instead of driving!

Lonny and Brad jacked up the front end while

Wynn went over to check on the girls. Nancy-Rae

stood on the sidelines in her gold driving suit, taking

lap times on Inky.

The Baby Grand would run on conventional

radials instead of racing tires, causing a great deal of

body lean in the turns and even some wheel

squealing. Their competition would consist of a

wide range of foreign and domestic gas savers, such

as Pinto, Toyota, and Mazda.

When Inky came under the bridge, Nancy-Rae

put her hands to her ears and laughed. I cant help it. Every time I hear those tires squeal, I think shes taking an excursion into the boonies to land on her

head. On the next lap Inky pulled in and turned the car

over to Nancy-Rae. Its hard to look ladylike

37

getting out of these things, she joked as she struggled through the window and undid her helmet.

Hope handsome Harlan didnt see me. Sounded like the car was cutting out in the

turns, Wynn commented while Nancy-Rae climbed in. Inky took a pillow and stuffed it behind her

smaller co-driver before she belted her in.

It is, she said. I apply power and it hesitates. Must be the carburetors. But I want Nancy-Rae to

give it a go before we make any changes. We need

some seat time before we start sorting out the car. After a full day of testing, the exhausted drivers

ate a hearty dinner with plans to retire early in order

to prepare for the next days practice and qualifying runs. Other competitors were arriving with fancy

semis and motor homes. More than one hundred and

fifty cars were expected for the first race of the

season.

In qualifying, the girls and boys shared timing

during one anothers sessions, using the same pit space so they could also share tools. The Baby

Grand and GT cars were run in separate groups, so

Brad was kept busy making adjustments to both

during the hectic sessions. Wynn took one off-

course excursion, coming in with a clump of mud

and hay under the front spoiler.

Brad grinned, remembering his mishap on

Lonnys test strip. Glad Im not the only farmer on

38

the team! The sessions ended with Wynn and Lonny

qualifying seventh, and the girls eighth, in starting

positions. All in the top ten, Brad said proudly. Thats a great beginning!

Also note that our TV detective friend has half a second on that creep Velec, Inky said triumphantly. Hes not just a jet-set playboy.

Lonny had studied past results in order to spot the

competition for the season. Velec has a pretty speedy track record from last year, he said. But he got into a lot of bad scrapes to achieve it.

In the afternoon, Wynn, Lonny, and Brad left for

a trip into Atlanta, where they would scout for Jeff

Kuralts swindler. The girls would wait until the official results came out so they could look at the

next days grid positions. The boys split up in the city, each visiting

different auto dealers. They agreed to meet at a

parking lot later.

There they compared notes from their inquiries.

All three had encountered people who had been

duped, and their descriptions of the swindler were

similar! Two gave an additional bit of information.

The so-called Altadyne representative had a slight

accent, which they thought might be Cuban or

Mexican. It would match the mans dark coloring. The boys reported to the police, then went back to

39

the track and broke the news to the girls.

Great! Nancy-Rae said. Youve got another clue!

Did you get the official results? Lonny asked Inky.

Yes. And theres one thing I dont understand. I have Velec down a second slower than the officials

do. They say hes in front of Harlan. Maybe Philips handsome face has affected your

stop watch, Wynn said. Inky was hurt. Oh, sure. Besides, girls dont

know what theyre doing in the pits anyhow. Come on. I was only teasing. Hold on a minute, Brad said, studying the page.

The results have the two timing sessions divided in half and they give Velec credit for being out twice.

Im positive his car never left the pits in the second session. Lets see your times, Inky.

She handed him the stack of sheets. Second session. No times on number eighty-six. Thats Velec. Harlan ought to protest. Charlie Pierce was

pitted right next to Velec. Hell verify that Velec never left the area. He had the gearbox out of his

car, trying to make a change before the next session

and didnt finish because it was too hot to work on. Brad left to ask Harlan and Charlie to make an

official protest. He returned smiling thirty minutes

later. Just then the change in the posted results was

40

announced.

You were dead right, Inky, Brad said. One of the people in the tower credited Velec with the times

of number sixty-six since they were so similar in

paint jobs. Number sixty-six was already on the pole

from the first session, and Velec is right where you

had him. Behind Harlan, in third. At that moment Harlan walked up. Thanks,

Inky. Ive been traveling without a crew and to tell the truth, didnt even know my own lap times. From now on Ill know where to check on the results.

Any time. We keep track of all the cars just to make sure we get a clear picture of the competition.

Oh, oh, Harlan whispered, I think were having a visitor whos not so pleased with the new results.

Velec strode into the campsite. I dont like being cheated out of my position by some little bird who

thinks she knows how to time race cars! he stormed. Why dont you get a sun bonnet and sit in the stands, madam. Your nose could use some

powder, too. It looks a bit well done. Wynn watched Inkys bottom lip stick out

defiantly as she stepped forward. Tell me how you set fast time in the second session with your car in

the pits? Did you put a number on your back and

race on foot? Velec was taken aback by the reply. Well, you

41

dont win races with your fancy watches, kiddo. Youll find out tomorrow when I roll right over anybody who gets in my way!

42

CHAPTER V

Inkys Hard Luck

Race day at Road Atlanta was warm and breezy.

Product flags for BP, Castrol, Coca-Cola, and

Goodyear rippled on poles down pit row above the

shining cars getting their last minute adjustments.

The red clay banks around the track were

sprouting green, but some of the loose sand still

blew in the wind and stained the white coveralls the

boys and girls wore. When The Star-Spangled Banner was played, the drivers cut off their engines and the mechanics held their wrenches to watch Old

Glory go up the pole.

Inky and Nancy-Rae ought to take note of that breeze, Lonny said to Wynn. Theyll feel it in that little car when they get in the clear on the back

straight. Right, Wynn replied. Their radials have a

smaller contact patch than our racing tires. A strong

43

cross wind could cause them to lose their grip and

skitter. But if they get a rain shower, Brad said

optimistically, they have less tire to slide on. There are advantages and disadvantages.

The three boys stood anxiously by as the pack

approached the starting flag. Inky had chosen to take

the wheel, with Nancy-Rae as relief driver. This left

the boys with the timing chores, and Wynn fingered

the digital instrument Inky had entrusted to him.

Oh brother, I can tell you right now, Lonny, that Im liable to get excited and push the button at the wrong time. He examined the device closely. The small box was powered by four batteries, and a

lighted numeral face displayed the lap times. A red

button on the top, if punched, would give the

reading on the passing car.

Nancy-Rae tipped up her chin. So finally were going to be appreciated. She turned back quickly to jot down her partners position as she approached the green flag. I wish Inky had been gridded on the inside, she said, obviously worried. Theyll try to shove her off in the first turn if she goes wide. And

the way that thing is handling, she wont have a choice There they go!

The four ran to the fence to watch the Colt gallop

into the first turn. Inky was not going to be bluffed.

She charged ahead of the car that had started beside

44

her, earning the line through the turn and the fast

shot up the hill.

Wow! Look at her go! Brad exclaimed. The racers were visible to the pit crew only for a

few seconds during each lap. Then they disappeared

for the difficult back side of the track. Inky

maintained her position at the end of the first lap

before the competitors disappeared over the hills and

behind the trees on the long course.

But on lap three, trouble had developed at the

front of the pack. The public-address system was

making a garbled announcement that no one could

hear over the sound of the backmarkers that were

now completing the second lap.

Brad looked up from the watch to an empty track.

Inky was overdue. She and at least six others were

missing. Must have been some pileup, he said, worried. We lost a big chunk of the field.

As the remaining cars passed, the loudspeaker

could be heard again.

Number forty-three blew an engine. Oiled the track. Seven cars are off course. The corner station

reports they are out of contention, repeat, out of the

race, because of the soft mud in the infield. What a bad break! Lonny remarked. That

shower last night must have turned the infield into a

bog. Sorry, folks, the announcer continued, we lost

45

some of our best cars, including one of the all-girl

teams. You could say theyre joining those male chauvinist pigs out there in the mud. Better luck

next time, girls! Nancy-Rae limped out in the middle of the pit

lane. The fiery redhead in the gold driving suit

waved her fist at the announcer until she was

ordered out of the lane in case a car made a pit stop.

Lonny patted her on the back. Take it easy, kid. These people are just going to have to get used to

having you and Inky around. He didnt mean any harm by it.

Youre right, she said sadly. I guess Im mad because were out of contention so soon. I didnt even have a chance to drive.

They watched the remainder of the race, then

waited for Inky to be towed back to the pits after the

flag dropped. She stayed with the car so that she

could supervise the process and prevent any

damage.

When the crew spotted the green Colt rolling in,

they ran to meet it. At first glance it looked dismal,

covered with red clay and green grass, but close

scrutiny revealed that the car was undamaged.

I tell you, Nancy-Rae, Inky wheezed, it was like walking along with the sun in your eyes and

stepping on a banana peel. Doesnt look like you put a scratch on it, but

46

well have to wash its face before we know, Lonny said.

I noticed number forty-three smoke, Inky explained, so I laid back but it went off like a land mine. Couple of the guys collected some fenders,

but after the first spin I stayed in the clear by taking

a tour through the quagmire. I guess I should have

tried harder to keep on the pavement. Lonny suddenly grabbed Wynns sleeve. Look

at that guy over there! Hes the one we saw in Charlotte, coming out of

the Swamp Fox Bar! The girls and Brad noticed a slender, dark-haired

man, who walked up to the girls Colt. Wynn and Lonny approached him. Whats the

idea of hanging around our friends car? Wynn snapped.

No reason to be so unfriendly. I was just assessing the damage, the man said.

Why dont you pull your usual trick and try to sell us an Altagem, Lonny demanded.

The man looked confused. I beg your pardon. You must have mistaken me for someone else.

Whats an Altagem? Wynn stepped back, slightly embarrassed. If they

were wrong, they owed this person an apology. He

was sure it was the same man they had seen at the

Swamp Fox, but his hair was not greasy, and he did

47

not have an accent, either.

Lonny made the same observations, but he

pressed on anyway. We know who you are, he said. We followed you all over Charlotte. Youre selling Altagem ignition systems under false

pretenses I know who I am, too! the man interrupted.

My names Bill Flynn and I know nothing about your Altagems. Im a tech inspector and I was sent over to assess the damage to this car, to fill out an

accident report. Since there appears to be nothing

wrong with it, he said icily, I will bid you good day. He left.

Are you sure you have the right man? Inky asked. He certainly didnt seem nervous when you accused him. Just mad.

Lonny shrugged, then looked at his watch. Good grief! Wed better get our minds on what were doing. Suit up, Wynn. In fifteen minutes were supposed to be on the false grid. Ill warm the engine up and get my driving suit on later.

On the pace lap Wynn appeared at the top of the

hill under the bridge, the Datsun sparkling after

Brads polish job, which he insisted made it go faster.

He came awfully close to the bridge on that warm-up swerve, Lonny noted, lowering his binoculars. Thats not like him.

48

Wynn did have his troubles. All the cars were

zigzagging back and forth on the pace lap to heat; up

their tires prematurely by placing them under;

artificial stress. A careless driver could easily cause

a pileup before the race began, and Wynn had

noticed Velecs Corvette swerve dangerously close. When they entered the bridge turn, the last one

before the start, most of the racers stopped their

warm-up exercises to prepare for the green flag.

Only Velec made another swerve when the pack fell

into formation.

Wynn was looking straight ahead, but he caught

the move from the corner of his eye. It broke his

concentration and he nearly ran into the spectator

bridge. Quickly he steadied the car and stayed in

line. His eyes were fixed on the starter, who

surveyed the cars, then waved the flag. They were

off!

As they headed into the first turn, Wynn quickly

put aside the Velec incident. He concentrated on

driving the Datsun. Though by far one of the

prettiest cars there, its handling problems were still

unsolved. It oversteered violently. In the first turn

the front end stuck but the machine pointed straight

ahead. This was not going to be a fun race to drive!

After several laps, he noticed a disturbing pit

signal from Lonny. He was holding his palms up,

close together. On the next lap the palms were even

49

closer. Wynn looked in his mirror and realized what

the problem was. Velec was closing. Just as he had

warned, he was charging through the pack with dust

flying.

Wynn concentrated on the track in front of him.

Mustnt think about that, he said to himself. Need to keep my mind on the Datsun. Its worse than a Brahman bull with a cocklebur under its

saddle! As the race progressed, the track got slippery.

Several cars had already retired with blown engines.

The mishap that stalled Inkys car made the back straight treacherous even though workers had put

down oil dry to absorb the fluid. This only increased

the Datsuns problems. Wynn glanced in the mirror again. No use trying

to pretend Velec was not there. Even closer. And

Wynn was driving as fast as he could risk. Well, if

Velec was going to bully his way past, he could

drive around. The Corvette moved beside Wynn on

the back straight, the V8 engine roaring powerfully.

For several laps the two diced. The fans were on

their feet as the Corvette and the smaller Datsun

went into turns, side by side, with hardly enough

room for another paint coat between them. For five

laps Wynn held Velec off, with a margin of a few

inches.

Lonny! Brad said frantically, do you think we

50

should signal him to let the Vette by? Velec is

bound to see Wynns problem, and that over-steer is getting worse now that the tires are hot and worn

and the tracks greasy! Never, Lonny said firmly. We only signal him

when theres a mechanical reason. He makes all the driving decisions on his own.

No sooner had Lonny spoken, when he clutched

his fists. Velec was making his move in full view of

the crew. He didnt fall in behind and yield the turn to Wynn, but charged straight ahead while Wynn set

up for the turn, directly in his path. Lonny heard the

contact, the dull thump of the fiberglass fenders

striking, and ran to the end of pit lane. Velec had

driven intentionally into Wynns front fender, tapping the lighter car just enough to start a spin!

Wynn held the wheel as tight as he could, but it

was no use. The car was making a complete 360

degree turn and the rear was heading downhill

toward the first-turn guardrail!

51

CHAPTER VI

A Shiner for Brad

Wynns car stopped, its back wheels mired in the turf just inches from the guardrail. Luckily the soft

ground had slowed his lunge toward the steel

barrier. He tried to move forward again but the wide

rear tires were spinning helplessly, spattering the

silver rail with red spots.

A corner worker stood behind the guardrail,

waving the yellow caution flag to passing drivers.

He raised his hand, indicating that Wynn was not

allowed to leave until the rest of the field had safely

passed.

As if I could move if I wanted to, Wynn thought glumly. He undid his belts, walked to the

back of the racer, and began to push. The rules

required that he do it without help. He could hear his

crew cheering him from the pits. Finally Wynn got

one rear wheel onto the pavement. He heard the

52

faint sound of Lonnys voice, Try it now and hurry!

He leaped back into the Datsun and gunned the

engine. The car spun a moment, slinging mud from

the rear tire, then spurted onto the track. Over his

shoulder Wynn saw the front runners coming down

the hill before the pit straight. He buckled his belts

and quickly motored up the hill so as not to be

lapped. Now he would have to catch up. He had lost

almost a full lap because of Velecs dirty trick. When Wynn came in for his routine fuel and tire

stop, he was in fifteenth position. He shut down the

engine for refueling, and Lonny reached through the

window to help him out. Then Lonny squirmed into

the high-sided racing seat that fit him more snugly

than it did his thinner co-driver. Wynn pulled the

shoulder harness over Lonnys shoulders, and buckled him securely into the lap belt.

Brad and Nancy-Rae were checking the car, Brad

changed the left front wheel while Nancy-Rae

scrubbed the mud and oil from the windshield. Inky

was at work on her timing perch, keeping track of

what was happening on course while Wynn was in

the pits.

Still got a wicked oversteer, Lonny, Wynn said rapidly. The new rubber on the left front might help a little but it was bad from the start. Engines strong, oil pressure, eighty, temperature, two twenty

53

All done! Brad threw his hands up, indicating that the pit work was finished. Lonny roared away

as Wynn banged on the roof for the go signal. While

they examined the wear on the tire they had

removed, Wynn unbuckled his helmet and undid the

top of his fireproof suit. Whew! One thing I didnt tell him hell find out soon enough. Its like an oven in there. Make a note, Inky, to ventilate the

cockpit Got it, she said. Wynn smiled at her. How quick was the stop? Not bad. Twenty-six seconds, she replied, not

taking her eyes from the course as she recorded the

cars. Only two other teams have been quicker. When Lonny left the pits, he was down to

seventeenth position, but he may be able to passhe did! Hes up to sixteenth. Give him the board, Brad.

Lonny roared around the sixteenth-place car

under the bridge. Brad ran to the side of the track

with the blackboard and scratched down a sixteen

with white chalk. He flashed the signal. Lonnys gloved hand waved from the window as he passed,

indicating he was now aware of his position.

Didnt do my old buddy much of a favor, turning the car over in seventeenth, Wynn said dejectedly.

We were proud of your getting up that far,

54

Nancy-Rae said.

Right, Brad added. We saw that move Velec pulled.

Wynn nodded. He collected me on purpose. And all he had to do was be patient and he could have

passed me fair and square. Driving that car was like

wrestling a greased pig on roller skates, as I see my

good buddy is finding out. They watched Lonny, usually the more

conservative of the two drivers, going into turn one

sideways.

You know its the car because hes a straight shooter behind the wheel, Wynn told Brad.

Five hours and forty-five minutes later, Inky

indicated that it was time for Brad to give Lonny the

countdown. Only five laps to go. He should

maintain his position, she reasoned, and finish tenth.

The ninth-place car was too far ahead to press. Brad

signaled: EZ 5 L meaning, Take its easy, only five laps to the finish.

As the checkered flag dropped, Wynn said,

Looks as if our TV detective got a second. Where did Velec end up?

Inky checked her chart. Fifth. And in the points, Im afraid. Lonny gets one for tenth.

Could have been none, Brad said and slapped Wynn on the back. Lets take a look at the car.

Bet you a quarter he says the first item is to fix

55

the cockpit. Lonny pulled into the pits and climbed out of the

car. The back of his suit was dark with perspiration.

When he took his helmet off, his face was flushed

and his hair plastered to his forehead. First thing on the list, he said breathlessly. Cool this thing off!

Brad laughed and flipped Wynn a quarter while

the confused and tired Lonny looked on. Nancy-Rae

handed him a cup of iced tea.

Dont look now, she said, but here comes our friend. He didnt finish high enough to make the victory circle, and I didnt see him up there congratulating Harlan for taking second.

Hey, you kids. You need your parents consent to be running loose in the pits, Velec called. He was walking with another driver named Max Turner,

who was laughing at his quip. Oh, sorry, I was mistaken. It is a group of our fellow drivers. I

thought maybe the local kindergarten was out on a

field trip. Why dont you beat it, Velec, Wynn snapped.

Your welcome is wearing a bit thin. And did the young ladies finish in their kiddie

car? Velec went on. Believe I saw the wuddle car go wup de wup out in the nasty old mud.

Okay, Velec, I warned you! Wynn walked forward but Brad stepped in between. Cool it, Wynn. I know Turner. Hes bad news.

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Before Brad finished his sentence, Turner had

punched him in the eye. He fell to the ground.

Lonny and the girls went to his aid, while Wynn

raced after the retreating twosome but stopped in his

tracks.

Oh, no. Ive had it! He saw the striped shirts of a group of race officials approaching. Brad sat up

quickly. Just say I got an elbow in the eye, he said. An accident.

Inky handed him a paper towel with an ice cube

inside, which he pressed to his eye. Then he climbed

back to his feet and began collecting tools with his

free hand, turning his back to the officials. To their

surprise they passed with a hello, unaware that any

disturbance had taken place.

See you in the next race? one asked. Sure thing, Inky replied. When they were out of earshot, Wynn said,

Thats a relief. We dont want to start the season with the reputation for being troublemakers.

By nightfall their cars and tools were loaded, and

they began the long trip to Clayborne and Newgate.

They stopped north of Gainesville for dinner. Brad

enjoyed the hearty meal, and no one mentioned the

rising blue color around his eye.

Spelling one another, the young people rolled into

Clayborne at two in the morning. Inky and Nancy-

Rae bid the boys good-by and went quietly into

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Buds house. The boys drove on to Newgate. Both teams had a lot of work to do before the next

outingover 2,500 miles away on the coast of Northern California at Laguna Seca Raceway.

Guess Jeff is used to the first-race blues by now, Lonny said. But I really wish we had better news to report on the swindle than making fools of

ourselves with a look-alike tech inspector.

After several days of preparation, the boys

decided to test at Lonnys farm. They phoned the girls and made plans to run both cars. When Inky

and Nancy-Rae arrived, their spirits were high again.

Were ready to take on you GT guys, Inky said. You think these little kiddie cars wont go? Well, just give us a lap lead in a ten-lap handicap and see

who comes out on top! The boys considered the challenge, doing some

rough figuring on times. Brad took out his slide rule.

Its a possible contest, he said. The race was on. After a few minutes of warm-up

and tuning, the two cars were put side by side, and

Inky started the handicap lap. Wynn soon followed

in the Datsun. On lap nine Brad figured that Wynn

had to make up five seconds to catch Inky. He had

been gaining four seconds a lap so it was still a

possibility, but only if she bobbled. As they came

out of the first turn, Nancy-Rae pointed across the

field. Somethings moving in the grass, she said.

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A cottontail. I hope Wynn sees it. The rabbit darted into Wynns path. The

unexpected intruder broke his concentration on the

close race with Inkys Colt. He turned the wheel sharply to miss the frightened creature, spinning on

the last lap. Inky crossed the line, victorious!

The girl turned and drove by the embarrassed

Wynn, who was still facing the wrong direction. She

put her fist out the window. Viva la woman! Viva la rabbit, you mean, Wynn snorted. I told that bunny to run out to see if you were

admiring the back of my car, as I went over the

line! Thanks a lot! During the next few days they pored over U. S.

maps, tracing the route to California. It would be a

long trip, requiring at least five stops along the road.

They would stay together and help one another in

case of trouble with the tow vehicles. Bud had spent

the Atlanta race week building a fresh engine for his

old jeep so that Inky and Nancy-Rae could use it for

a tow car. Finally all was ready and they went for a

last conference with Jeff Kuralt. His news was not

good.

It seems were always a step behind, he said. After you investigated Atlanta, activity stopped. But

I just had reports from the West Coast. Its starting there. Several large cities were hit. Keep an eye

59

open for me, will you? Sure will, Wynn promised, and they left,

accompanied by their friends good wishes. After two days of travel, Lonny gave Inky the

now familiar signal to pull in behind him at a cafe.

Brad followed in his MG. They were just outside of

Oklahoma City in the flat cattle country beyond the

rolling hills of the Ozarks. The hungry travelers slid

into a booth beside the window so they could watch

their cars while eating their burgers and fries.

Hey Wynn! Brad said suddenly. Theres a seedy-looking character nosing around Beetle

Bomb! Youre right. Id better keep an eye on him

because theres a lot of stuff tied on the back. He seems to be just checking out the racer. Maybe hes never seen one before.

A few minutes later the man walked through the

glass door of the caf. He stopped at the gum

counter and stared at all the customers. Most of

them must have been familiar because he nodded

and they returned the greeting. Then his eyes came

to rest on the North Carolinians. He walked over

slowly.

Howdy. Howdy, Lonny said. Them your cars? Yep. Were heading for California to a race,

60

Brad said, friendly as always.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a

piece of paper. It had a name and address on it. He

handed it to Brad. Ifn you need some spare parts real cheap, you make a visit to this fellow in

Oklahoma City. Good friend of mine. Hell fix you up real fine with used parts.

Brad took the paper and read, Jabbo Dirk, 1938 West River Road. He thanked the man and the fellow shuffled away to the counter, where he

ordered a cup of coffee. The group finished their

meal and on the way out, the man called after them,

Jest tell Jabbo that Sammy sent you! In the parking lot, Brad said, Why dont we give

this Jabbo a try? We could use some A arms and

cylinder heads. Wynn and Lonny were reluctant, but Brad

insisted. The group drove into Oklahoma City,

getting directions at a service station. The route

wound behind warehouses and a railroad yard,

taking them into a rundown section of town. They

spotted Jabbos establishment, fenced in completely with closely nailed boards. His name was lettered

roughly on the glass door, but there was no

indication of the kind of business he rah.

Brad walked in first and addressed the elderly

man inside. Jabbo Dirk? My names Brad Koehler and these are my friends. I hear you give people a

61

good deal. The man squinted at them and chewed on his

cigar. Now, I dont believe I have any idea of what youre talking about, young feller!

62

CHAPTER VII

Good Old Jabbo

Wynn felt the blood rising in his cheeks. They

should never have come here. The whole thing

sounded fishy in the first place!

Lonny was equally irritated by the situation. Just one question, Mr. Dirk, he said. Do you know a man named Sammy?

Sammy? Old Sammy, the pack rat? He told us to come here. You want parts? Yes. Jabbo began to chuckle, cigar ash scattering down

the front of his shirt. Next thing you know hell be expecting a salary. Yeah, I know Sammy. He helps

me label parts in the evening. Then you do have spares? Brad asked. He

explained that they needed some suspension parts

for a late model Datsun 260Z, and spare A arms. In

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the engine area, we could use a few extra cylinder

heads, he added. The motors running like a top now but you can never tell when disaster might

strike. Jabbo scratched down the names with a stubby

pencil. His fingernails were black and splintered, the

evidence of a life of hard, dirty work. He lifted a

card file from beneath the counter and searched

through it. The group watched in amazement as he

wrote a complex series of numbers and letters.

When he disappeared through a side door, Brad said,

From the looks of him, I didnt think he was a man with a system. Id give a pretty penny to take a peek into that file.

I dont trust this guy, Wynn commented. He

Jabbo popped back into the room. In his arms

were the items Brad had asked for, all shiny and

clean and labeled with tags. He wrote up a sales slip.

The boys took a look at the spares.

Sammy told us you sell used parts, Wynn said. These look new to me!

Theyre not. Youll see my prices and youll know theyre used. Jabbo cackled.

Wynn glanced at the bill. Wow! Youre not kidding! These cost half what they do at the

dealership. He took out his wallet and paid. Me and my wife sit in front of the TV at night

64

and polish them, Jabbo explained with pride. The boys thanked him and promised to tell other

racers about his service.

As Wynn headed back onto the road in Beetle

Bomb with the other two vehicles behind him,

Lonny continued to examine their purchase,

searching for flaws or cracks. Suddenly he

exclaimed, Wynn, oh no! Wynn stepped on the brakes and pulled over to

the side. Whats the matter? The original parts numbers have been filed off

and replaced with others! Brad and the girls gathered around the buggy as

Lonny took out his Datsun parts book. Ill prove Im right, he said and matched the spares. None of these numbers are the same!

Brad took an A arm from Lonny. Hes correct. There has been an intentional change, he admitted. And its my fault. I was so eager to buy them. Now we are the proud possessors of stolen merchandize!

Whatll we do? Inky asked. Tell the police? Thatll delay us even further, and well lose our

practice time at Laguna Seca, Wynn said. Lonny nodded. We might as well continue for a

while and then stop for the night. They built a fire near El Reno, crawled into their

sleeping bags, and closed their eyes. Next morning

they loaded their gear, and Inky shook the ants out

65

of their things. You picked a nifty place to camp, Wynn, she said. Giant ants, cows mooing all night, and railroad cars banging back and forth!

Quit complaining, he teased. Tomorrow night you might find a rattlesnake in your tent!

The caravan continued, the next stop being the

Panhandle of Texas. After ten minutes of travel on

the spacious Interstate Highway, they heard the siren

of a squad car behind them.

Oh oh, Wynn said. Wed better pull over. You think they found out about the stolen

parts? Lonny asked. Wynn shrugged and got out of the car. The girls

came up with Brad, and they all confronted a tall

police officer.

Brad decided to confess. I guess we made a mistake

Nothing a piece of baling wire wont fix, the policeman replied.

What? The officer pointed to the license tag on the girls

trailer. Its coming off, he said. You have a nut and bolt on board? Better hook it up before you lose

it. Nancy-Rae scrambled into the jeep and got a bolt.

She started to put it on, but the officer took it out of

her hand. Let me help you with that, young lady. The boys chuckled. If he only knew that the

66

young lady had assembled the entire engine of the race car from scratch and was quite capable of

handling a simple nut and bolt!

Inky nudged Wynn. Why dont we tell him? she asked. I bet thats what Jeff would do.

Tell me what? the policeman asked, looking up in surprise. You in some kind of trouble?

We dont know, Brad explained. We bought some auto parts in Oklahoma City and then found

that the numbers had all been replaced. We figured

we must have purchased stolen merchandise. The patrolman began to laugh. You got them

from Jabbo Dirk, right? Yes. Are the police looking for him? Oh, no. Of course not. That old character is as

legit as they come. Every time theres a sports-car accident in the state he arrives with his wrecker.

Sometimes he gets there before the police and gives

first aid to the injured. Then he buys the wreck, tows

it away, and takes it apart for spares. But why does he change the numbers? He has his own system of filing things. Got to

hand it to him, too. He can pull anything you name

off the shelf in five seconds! The group breathed a sigh of relief. Nancy-Rae

thanked the officer for helping her fix her license

plate.

Dont mention it, maam. Glad to help out

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couple of ladies. Now you be careful! The travelers drove through upper Texas, over the

flat green plains of the panhandle. The mesas of

New Mexico glowed pink under the sun, and the

tall, treelike desert plants called Joshua trees cast

long shadows.

Then they cut upwards through Nevada towards

Northern California. As they headed into the barren

open deserts of Nevada, dodging an occasional giant

tumbleweed, Lonny had an idea. Wynn, at the next truck stop, lets pull in. Id like to check the cars weight on the cargo scales and see if that might give

us some leads on suspension changes. Good idea, Wynn agreed. They drove into a truck stop and parked the

trailers. Brad understood the plan immediately.

Should have thought of it myself, he said. These places generally have very accurate scales. He went inside to ask how to operate the equipment.

Its automatic, a man in overalls told him. Unload the car, roll the front wheels on the scales, then all four wheels, then the rear.

How much is it? A dollar. Youll get a printed read-out of the

three weights. Thanks. Brad paid and went outside again.

Several truckers gathered around the racers and

assisted with the unloading procedure. The boys

68

pulled in line behind a rig carrying washing

machines to wait their turn.

I lightened that car in every area, Brad related. Fiberglass fenders, hood, and I stripped the inside of every unnecessary object. I dont think it could lose another pound, unless we put Wynn on a diet! He chuckled as Wynn munched on a candy bar.

Right, Lonny added. I think were pretty close to the minimum legal weight, but I wanted to make

sure. If we earn a good finish, officials will weigh

the car, and being found underweight would be a

tragic way to lose a race. The Datsun was driven onto the scales. The boys

waited for the woman in the glass booth next to

them to signal when to roll the car forward for the

weight of the car, and then the rear. In seconds she

handed him a sheet with the figures.

While Inky drove the Colt onto the scales, Brad

scanned the numbers. Lonny, look at this! he called out. Were fifty pounds below the legal limit!

Well have to buy Wynn a fifty-pound case of candy bars and put it in the trunk, Lonny suggested.

They loaded the racer on the trailer and sat down

in the shade of the building.

The girls, who had encountered no problem with

their Colt, brought soda and ice for all of them.

Whats the matter? Inky asked.

69

The cars light in the rear, Lonny told her. Wed better put an extra weight there, Brad

stated. Being underweight actually gives us the advantage of adding it where we need it for good

balance. The boys decided to take care of the problem

when they arrived at the track, and soon were on the

road again. By nightfall on the sixth day, they

reached Laguna Seca. A strong breeze near the

Pacific Ocean had twisted the trees on the dunes.

The race facility was in a beautiful valley filled with

horse farms and resort spots. It was located on a

military base, and MPs directed traffic. While the group set up camp, Lonny scrambled

through his spare parts boxes for an assortment of

lead weights that would bring the racer up to the

legal limit. By the light of his gas lantern, he bolted

the weights in place under the back of the car. Ill sleep better, he said, knowing that were legit.

But there would be no sleep for a while. No

sooner had the weary group crawled into their tents,

than they heard shouts and screams from the far end

of the camping area. Thinking at first it was only

pre-race revelers, they tried to ignore it, covering

their heads with their pillows. But acrid smoke

filtered into their tents.

Thats rubber burning! Wynn exclaimed. And fuel!

70

They got up and looked across the infield, where

they saw a huge fire, its flames leaping far above the

treetops some distance away. Dark figures seemed

to do a strange dance in a circle.

What in the world is that? Lonny asked, puzzled.

Put your shoes on and well find out, Brad advised.

The young people were running toward the blaze

when the air was split with the sound of sirens. The

local fire trucks arrived at the scene at the same

time.

A Greyhound bus! Wynn cried out. The whole bus is on fire!

You suppose someone could be trapped inside? Lonny asked.

The vehicle was aglow, its windows smashed out.

A boy dumped gasoline on the flames, laughing with

glee. He was grabbed from behind by an MP who

had just jumped out of an Army jeep.

No, I dont think anyone is inside, Wynn said. It seems were getting a taste of the destructiveness we read about in the newspapers, spectators who

tear up rock concerts and public sports events. That

bus was burned deliberately! Lonny shook his head. I recently read a report in

Road & Track that said a Greyhound bus costs over

forty thousand dollars. Thats an expensive little

71

prank. They heard people speaking Spanish. A young

Mexican held a banner he had rescued from the side

of the bus. A name was on the unburned portion.

Gonzales, Brad read. That must be Juan Gonzales, and the bus brought his fans here to cheer

him on in his first American race. Suddenly Wynn clutched Lonnys arm. Yanking

him back from the fire, he pointed. Standing alone

beside the bus was a dark, slender figure. In the

dancing light they recognized the face. It was Bill

Flynn!

72

CHAPTER VIII

A Flapping Door

What do you suppose hes doing here? Lonny asked.

Lets ask him! The boys weaved through the crowd of Mexicans

standing beside the bus and bemoaning the loss of

their possessions. T