THE MEXICALI 1000

Wynn and Lonny, two North Carolina boys, save

every penny they earn working in a garage in order

to enroll in a racing-driver school in California.

When they arrive, they find they have been tricked.

There is no such school!

But they do not return home. Instead, the boys

land jobs in a drag shop as gophers and gain favor with their boss, a racing buff. They hear about the

Mexicali 1000, and, in their spare time, rebuild their

buggy, Beetle Bomb, for the grueling off-road race

down the Baja Peninsula of Southern California.

During the exhausting race they realize that they

have been unwittingly involved in an unscrupulous

scheme of Mexicos two top smuggling gangs! Obstacles thrown in their way nearly cost Lonnys life and leave them stranded in the forbidding desert.

Will their ingenuity and perseverance pay off? Read

this hair-raising adventure and find out!

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

THE MEXICALI

1000

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: 74-1898

ISBN: 0-448-11790-8 (Trade Edition)

ISBN: 0-448-13220-6 (Library Edition)

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I HOT-ROD CHALLENGE 1

II A TERRIBLE BLOW 10

III SPINOUT! 22

IV SAVED BY A BELLE 36

V SURVEILLANCE CLUE 44

VI CARELESS ARCHIE 55

VII LONNIES VICTORY 63 VIII BAJA ADVENTURE 73

IX CONTRABAND TURTLES 84

X CACTUS GHOSTS 93

XI TRICKED! 100

XII THE DOGWOOD HELMET 110

XIII DOWN THE RAMP! 121

XIV DESERT RESCUE 130

XV COPTER ATTACK 139

XVI MEXICAN STAND-OFF 149

XVII LA PAZ FIESTA 155

THE MEXICALI

1000

1

CHAPTER I

Hot-Rod Challenge

Wynn Redford and Lonny Morris, eighteen-year-old

high school buddies, loaded camping equipment into

their hot rod at Bud Eubankss Service Station. Now that Beetle Bomb was completely rebuilt,

Bud said he would be lonely without the ripping

sound of the engine firing up and rattling the

windows in the tight quarters of his grease pit.

Well come backas champs, said sandy-haired Wynn, and he slid his tall, wiry frame into the

drivers seat. Lonny, a stocky boy with brown hair, patted his

exuberant tail-wagging coon dog. By the time I get all the tools in here, Archie, Im afraid we wont even have room for a spare bone. In the back you

go! The hound jumped into the yellow convertible

while Bud looked on. Ill have to admit it. Your

2

buggys a beauty, he said. I never would have thought that little Volkswagen engine could have

been tuned up to run like this! Bud had been a racing driver in his youth,

running stockers on the quarter-mile dirt ovals that

were found in every mountain town that was large

enough for two gas stations. Racing stock cars in the

Appalachians came as naturally to the local boys as

playing sandlot baseball.

Bud had not completely approved of the boys choice of an engine. Frequently he had stood back in

silence as racing fans kidded Wynn and Lonny

about trying to move a cow with a bumblebee

motor. Undaunted by the ridicule, the boys had

made plans to go to California where they had

enrolled in a school for racing drivers. Wynn had

found an advertisement in a hot-rod magazine. For a

hundred dollars it promised:

After one week of our intensive training with

European champion driver Jacques Breve, you

will be ready to embark on a road-racing

career.

Students were to be schooled in a sleek, open-

wheel formula car, a mini-Indy, modeled after the

cars of the world champions. Eager to attend, the

boys had earned the hundred dollars by servicing

3

cars at Buds station. Well, I think weve packed everything but the

grease pit, Wynn declared. Looks as if were ready to leave. All set, Archie?

The dog whimpered, and his tail beat like a gong

on the extra fuel tank.

Boys, wait! Bud sounded concerned. He went to the cash register, pulled out two 20 dollar bills,

and handed them to Wynn.

I want you to do something for me in California. One of Nancy-Raes girl friends said she was sure the kids out there traveling with a racing team. . . . He stopped and looked depressed.

Buds daughter, Nancy-Rae, had run away from home. For months Bud had called his old racing

buddies all over the country for word on her

whereabouts, but to no avail.

An auto-racing fan since her childhood, when her

mother had died, Nancy-Rae knew the names of cars

before she could write the alphabet. She wanted to

race herself, but Bud would not allow it. She had

hinted to friends that to pursue her chosen career,

she would have to leave home and do it on her own.

Do all you can to find Nancy-Rae, Bud said. We will, Wynn promised. Bud opened the service-station door, and Wynn

started the engine. A puff of black smoke came from

the tailpipes when it fired. After a few seconds of

4

warming up, it began to hum smoothly.

Lonny got into the car and spread a road map out

on his lap. Looks as if we have a lot of crooked miles for a while, Wynn. Later on its as the crow flies.

Okay, navigator. You direct me as the snake crawls until we get out of these hills.

They pulled out of the station, waving good-by to

Bud. The Blue Ridge Mountains stretched ahead of

them, and the early-morning haze was still in the air.

Wynn had always wanted to be a racing driver.

As a small boy he spent all of his free time at the

stock-car racing shops, waiting for every

opportunity to hand the mechanics a wrench or to

polish a car.

In high school, he found a book on driving

techniques by a former Italian champion, Piero

Taruffi. He lent it to Lonny, and the two friends

developed sudden enthusiasm in their physics class,

where they tried to sort out the complexities of slip

angles and apexes.

They even made plans for the day when Lonny

would be chief mechanic on the car Wynn would

race. The Beetle Bomb, which belonged to both, was

their first venture.

Im really looking forward to the course, Wynn said. Itll be great to talk about more than just driving flat out and spinning wheels.

5

Lonny nodded. We can learn from people who know theres more to racing than tromping your foot on the gas. Wait until old Jacques Breve asks us if

we understand apexing in a turn. Wynn laughed. Wait until we sit in one of those

little formula cars and he asks us to put our wheels

where our mouths are, he quipped. The truth is, Lonny said, that I cant wait to

see them. I lie awake nights thinking about how

much horsepower those foreigners get out of four-

cylinder engines. Beetle Bomb has almost twice as

much as it was born with, but Ive run out of places to squeeze in another horse.

Lonny Morris, a graduate of the Wilkes County

High School, had been in the technical program. The

only son of a poor farmer, his strong arms and

shoulders were built up from years of hard work.

Motors had always fascinated Lonny. Years ago,

he had earned the respect of the older men when he

had spent an afternoon tinkering with a rusted motor

at a deserted sawmill. By evening it had exploded

into life.

After the boys had acquired Beetle Bomb, Lonny

had spent long nights polishing the engine parts by

hand. Although he yearned for a taste of high-speed

driving, his main objective was to see the racing

machines in California.

You know, Wynn, he said, the more I think

6

about what I read on European racing, the more

respect I have for those drivers. They compete on

tracks built like country roads, with blind curves and

hills. Anyone can make a car go fast in a straight

line. But it takes a genius to go fast through a

hairpin. I know what you mean, Lonny. I haveoh-oh! Whats wrong? The car sounds fine. Look in the mirror. One of the locals is out for a

race. Well, tell him to go somewhere else. We have a

long drive ahead of us, twenty-five hundred miles.

And we dont want to end up on our heads before we get out of the county.

A big car roared around and hovered beside them.

Wynn slowed to let it pass, but the challenger

slowed, too. The sound of Beetle Bombs finely tuned engine was drowned by the roar of the V-8.

Hey, why dont you put your engine up front, where it belongs? the driver called out. Whats that thing for, anyway? Mowing grass?

Ignore him, Lonny advised. Hes just looking for trouble.

The challenger swerved, tapping the fiberglass

front fender of the buggy. Beetle Bomb slid

sideways onto the shoulder, but Wynn recovered

and pulled away.

Be careful, Lonny warned. Dont play his

7

game! The V-8 roared beside them again, heading to nip

the front fender once more. Wynn slowed. He saw

the straight road ending abruptly, with the inevitable

hairpin turn. He hit the brakes hard, turned quickly,

and slid through the turn. The rear-engine buggy

roared on the back wheels and regained adhesion as

they came out of the curve.

Lonny watched over his shoulder. The other car

locked up the brakes, skidding with a loud

screaming sound as the tires broke away from the

pavement. The powerful engine made a last and

final lunge, taking the car into the ditch on the far

side of the road.

Whew! Lonny exclaimed. That was really something!

Thanks, Wynn replied, but I think my apex was a little early. Nine-tenths perfect. Next time,

ten-tenths. Our friend got only about one-tenth of it right.

Wed better go check on him. Wynn wheeled the buggy around and headed for

the ditch. The driver was out of the car and standing

next to it. HARVEY (HOOKS) CONWAY was written on

the door.

As Wynn stopped, Hooks scowled at him. He was

a big man in his early twenties, with a flat nose and

furrowed forehead.

8

Hey, sorry about that, Wynn said. But I didnt pick the road, you know. Can we give you a hand

getting out? We have a towrope. Hooks glared. Take it and hang yourself, he

said with a growl.

Well, we just wanted to offer you a hand Ill offer you a fist if you dont get out of here! Taking his advice, Wynn made another U-turn

and headed down the road. Not exactly the friendly type, he said.

And that wasnt a car either, Lonny grumbled. It was a weapon. People like him shouldnt be allowed to drive.

Did you see the size of his hands? Wynn asked. When he shook that fist at us, I thought he was wearing boxing gloves!

From then on the miles rolled by without trouble.

That night the boys slept in a farmers orchard and the following night they set up camp in an

abandoned field. The low brush seemed to be filled

with jackrabbit ears. Archie chased them around

until he was so exhausted he collapsed by the tent

with a wheeze.

In the middle of the night, the boys were

awakened by the dogs howls. I was hoping hed give up his rabbit hunting and

let us get some rest, Wynn grumbled sleepily. Wait! Thats a different kind of howl. I know

9

Archies cries. Let me check. Lonny pulled on his shoes and left through the

tent flap. Then he yelled.

Wynn! Quick! Somebodys trying to steal the car!

10

CHAPTER II

A Terrible Blow

Wynn scrambled out of the tent and the two raced

toward the buggy. They could see the dark outline of

a man running off into the night. He disappeared

behind a clump of bushes and even though the boys

gave chase, they lost him a few minutes later.

No use to pursue him any farther, Wynn grumbled. Lets go back and see if he did anything to the car.

The boys returned to Beetle Bomb and Lonny

took a flashlight from the glove compartment. He

shined it on the ground and walked slowly around

the buggy.

Lets see if our buddy left a clue, he said. Both boys examined the car and the surrounding

area carefully but found nothing but footsteps in the

damp grass.

I wonder if it wasnt Hooks Conway trying to

11

get even with us, Wynn said. Way out here? You never know. He looked mean enough. Mean enough to steal our car? Wynn shrugged. He might have just wanted to

fool around with it a bit so we couldnt start it. Early the next morning the boys drove on, with

Lonny at the wheel. At midday, he pulled up under a

tree to push back the convertible top. A car roared

by.

Lonny looked up quickly. The engine! Did you hear it?

It sounded like a hot one to me, Wynn said. No. I mean, havent you heard it before? That

was Hooks Conway! Are you sure? I didnt even get a look at the

car. Positive, Lonny replied. Hooks is short on

manners, but he knows how to build an engine. Say,

maybe hes going to California, too. Perhaps even to the same driving school!

Wynn laughed. He could use a few lessons on negotiating hairpins.

Crossing the Great Plains, Lonny talked about

hometown events. One was the disappearance of

Nancy-Rae.

I didnt know her well, he said. Did you? Not really. Saw her at the station many times in

12

Levis, usually with a smudge of grease on her face. Im surprised she really up and left, Lonny

said. Quite a blow to her father. Couldnt the police find her?

Bud never asked them to. You know how he feels about the police.

The entire county knew. Years before, Bud was

rushing to the hospital with his pregnant wife. They

had been on a picnic with little red-haired Nancy-

Rae when the emergency arose.

Federal revenue agents, thinking Bud was

running whiskey, blocked the road. The resulting

crash killed one of the officers and Nancy-Raes mother. It left the girl with a slight limp.

Nancy-Raell come back someday, Lonny said slowly. Once shes proved she can race.

I suppose shes got to get it out of her system, Wynn agreed.

Two days later, the boys arrived in California.

They were in a long line of cars driving on the Los

Angeles Freeway when Lonny said, Take the next exit.

Wynn switched lanes and drove down the ramp.

According to the map, we go up two blocks, turn left, and the school should be on the corner, Lonny said.

Wynn was skeptical. As they waited for a

stoplight, he said, Are you sure this is right? I cant

13

imagine theyd have a road-racing course here. Lonny looked at the rows of tract houses in the

modest residential area and shook his head.

According to the directions in the ad, this is where the track entrance should be.

Wynn parked and they rechecked their map.

Somethings wrong, he said. Lets go ask the police.

At headquarters they told their story to a sergeant.

He shook his head, then recited the ad to them.

I know. Four miles of challenging turns on the model of the best European tracks. Im sorry, boys. Youre the twenty-third complaint this month. That ad was a phony! Weve been looking for that swindler, but so far no luck.

Wynn and Lonny glumly sat on the curb outside

the police station. They had come 2,500 miles to

find their hopes shattered!

I cant believe this happened to us, Lonny said bitterly. Ive been cheated out of nickels and dimes, even a dollar or two, but it took a long time to earn

that hundred bucks! Some road-racing career! Wynn said. If its

the last thing I do, Im going to track down that crook Jacques Breve and get our money back!

Lonny shook his head. And think of all the other guys just like us whove had their dreams go up in smoke.

14

Id rather not! Listen. Lets get a room, a nice hot shower, a big juicy hamburger, and forget our

troubles until tomorrow. Im all for that, Lonny said. Even Archie

yapped cheerfully.

Early the next morning, they felt refreshed and

eager to start their search for the swindler. They

went directly to the office of the magazine that ran

the ad, in the publishing district of Los Angeles.

They found that the slick shiny magazine was

produced in a not-so-slick or shiny office. The walls

of the building were stained, and the steps to the

second floor were littered with paper.

They could recycle enough of this trash to print the magazine for a year, Lonny ventured.

Inside the editors office, they spoke to a man in shirt sleeves who sat behind a cluttered desk and

introduced himself as O. T. Martin. He pushed back

a shock of hair and listened to his callers story. Yeah, the guy who put in the ad gave us a phony

name, he said. Ive already notified the police. Dont like that kind of business, myself. We try to keep things on the up-and-up around here.

Isnt there something you can do about it? Wynn asked.

The man shrugged. Somebody comes in and slaps his money on the table. You have to give him

the ad space. Know what I mean? I dont have time

15

to check out every advertiser. Lonny asked, Can you describe the man? Young guy, tall and thin, black hair. Expensive

clothes. Looked like they were fresh off the rack. That could be anybody, Wynn said. Was there

anything distinctive about hima limp, or a scar? Yes. There was an unusual thing. It might have

been real, or he might have gotten it from a dye

bottle, but he had this white streak running right

through the middle of his black hair. One more question and well be on our way,

Wynn said. Now that our money has been temporarily misplaced, could you suggest a racer

around here who might need a couple of helpers? Try the drag shops. They can generally use a

gopher. A gopher? Yeah, thats what they call guys who run errands

and do odd chores. You know, go for this and go for

that. Okay, Mr. Martin. And thanks for your help. Dont mention it. Im sorry, but you understand

my position Wynn and Lonny shut the door and headed down

the hall. A gopher, huh? Wynn said. I always thought that was some kind of squirrel. Well, I

suppose you can pick up nuts in a drag shop! Ow! Lonny said, and he gave Wynn a punch.

16

After two days of trying the drag shops with no

luck, their cash supply was dwindling and their

confidence was down.

The boys stopped for a hamburger. Hey, Lonny, Wynn said as he toyed with a French fry, weve got to get out of this gloom. Maybe those guys we asked for jobs figured us for a couple of

hicks. Come on! Lets take in the drags. Okay. Theres a big one this afternoon. They found the strip on the outskirts of the city

and left Archie to guard their car. The drag area

stretched before them like a combination circus yard

and used-car lot. Colored tents were everywhere to

provide shade for the mechanics while they worked

on the dragsters before the racers were to appear,

two abreast, at the starting line.

Because each run required only a few seconds,

lines of cars sprawled for miles around the short

patch of pavement allotted for the quarter-mile run.

Grandstands lined the strip and the extra length

needed at the end to slow the monsters.

Spectators, who paid extra for a pass permitting

them to mill around the work area, peered over the

mechanics shoulders as they prepared their cars. The air was filled with the smell of burning rubber

and the special fuel mixtures used by the high-

powered machines.

What a sight! Wynn said, looking over the

17

field. The dragsters varied from the exotic to the

ordinary. In almost no way did they resemble

regular cars except that they had four wheels and an

engine.

The stock class, however, was virtually a street

vehicle with careful tuning, locked in by the rules to

allow a category for inexpensive cars. This was to

attract beginners who wanted a taste of the sport

before sinking a bundle in a car. The real show was put on by the exotic dragsters,

with their ripping engines and colored parachutes

that would spin open and pull them to a stop.

Wynn and Lonny had known from the time they

were youngsters that the drivers chore seemed relatively simple in comparison to the mechanics work. It took nerve, good reflexes, smooth shifts,

and experience to pilot a dragster; but most

performances lasted less than ten seconds. The

mechanic, on the other hand, dealt with engines

producing so much horsepower that they sometimes

exploded under the pressure. The greatest danger

facing the driver was the damage his exploding

machine could do to him.

Lonny looked into the cockpit of a waiting fuel

dragster. The drivers seat was nestled between two huge tires in front of the powerful engine.

Look, Wynn. See how little there is to do. Youve got that butterfly steering wheel to hold

18

straight, you have a throttle, and theres the lever you pull to release the parachute.

Wynn chuckled. Is that all? I think Ill hop in one tomorrow. If I get the nerve!

They talked to a friendly driver who stood beside

his car. It was a sword-shaped vehicle with an

engine and two large tires that looked like the

swords handle. Its rails ended with two bicycle-like wheels in front.

He explained that a driver must practice the

stopping motion over and over while his car is at a

standstill until his reflex action is automatic. Dont forget, youre going over two hundred miles per hour when you have to stop, he said.

After you put your foot on the throttle, you must make yourself hold it until the end of the quarter

mile. Then you have a split second to release the

parachute to slow you down. If you use the throttle

incorrectly, the front end of the car might fly into the

air and bang down, damaging the structure. Its pretty fragile, you know.

The driver pointed to a car on the line that was

rearing like a horse while his opponent was already

flying along the strip. The narrow front wheels

slammed into the pavement.

That was an expensive mistake, the man said. That driver got eliminated, and he destroyed a good deal of his mechanics hard work. But thats racing.

19

Wynn and Lonny walked to the starting line for a

closer look. Between the next two competitors stood

a fixture of colored lights known as the Christmas

tree. It was invented to replace the man who once

stood between the snarling monsters and signaled

the start with flags.

The lights told each driver the moment he could

put his foot to the fuel. If he left too soon, the

electric eye would catch him, displaying a red light

that disqualified his run.

Two more dragsters came to the line, the huge

black doughnut tires oozing softly along the

pavement. The engines revved up and down as the

drivers prepared for the run. A crew member of one

racer ran to the back wheels with a bottle of bleach

and poured it under the tires.

Whats he doing, Lonny? Wynn asked. Ive read about this, Lonny replied. Its called

a burnout. When the driver spins the tires in the

bleach, it heats them up for more traction on the

actual start. Thats how he gets the most of his engine power on the ground. The car that reared up

misjudged and it got too much Lonnys voice was drowned by the roar of the

engine as the rubber doughnuts spun in the bleach,

filling the air with an acrid smoke cloud. The boys

instinctively put their hands to their ears as the two

vibrating monsters raced off down the quarter mile.

20

Behind them, the parachutes opened and snapped

full of air. They spun like pinwheels while slowly

dragging the cars to a stop.

Boy, Lonny exclaimed, if those parachutes hadnt opened, theyd be on the moon tonight!

After the fuel dragsters came two of the stock-

eliminator-class entrants. Although Wynn and

Lonny had been in awe of these cars at their local

strip back home, the engines had sounded mild

compared with the California competition.

The boys were intently observing the machines

pulling to the line, when Wynn exploded. Well, Ill be an ugly catfish! Theres old Hooks!

On the door of one of the starters were the words

Hooks Conway.

Lonny grinned. Cant believe my eyes. Conway blasted down the strip to win the run.

Hes plenty good on the quarter mile, Wynn admitted. They went closer to the fence to see the

next entrants pull up. They were in the funny car class, fuel dragsters disguised with fiberglass bodies

resembling regulation automobiles. They drove up

for the burnout, noses pointing toward the ground

like snouts.

Looks like an anteater, andwatch out! Lonny screamed.

A black doughnut tire lifted from under one of the

cars as the axle snapped. The wheel careened over

21

the protective fence and with deadly force spun

directly at a man and a young boy, who stood frozen

in terror.

Wynn, who was closest to them, made a

desperate horizontal dive. He hit the man and the

boy, and all three tumbled onto the pavement!

22

CHAPTER III

Spinout!

The wheel flew over the heads of the three people

sprawled on the ground and crashed into the side of

a refreshment stand, tumbling potato-chip racks onto

the pavement. Finally it wobbled to a stop.

The man stood up and helped the boy to his feet.

Are you all right, Teddy? he asked. Yes, Dad. Im not hurt. The boy brushed

himself off and the man turned to Wynn.

Thanks, he said. We might have been killed if it werent for you. I should know better than to turn my back on a race car after all these years.

He introduced himself as D. A. Crawford, and

they shook hands. Teddy extended his, too, and

smiled.

Im Wynn Redford and this is my buddy, Lonny Morris. I didnt know what to do but to take a dive at you.

23

Id say a skinned elbow is better than a broken head any day, Crawford said. Youll let me reward you for your action

Oh, no sir. I dont believe in getting paid for ten seconds work.

Dont let those fellows in the dragsters hear that. Crawford chuckled. They get paid a bundle for working less than that. Okay, then, Ill treat you to a snack.

Wynn and Lonny sat with father and son under a

tree, eating hot dogs while the dragsters roared off

the line. Hundreds of competitors would be

eliminated until only two were left in each class to

make the final run to victory.

The boys found that Crawfords interest in racing went beyond the dragsters. He was involved in the

ownership of two sprint cars and several sports cars.

When they told him about the phony driving school

that brought them to California, he was sympathetic

but could provide no leads to the swindler.

But if youre racing buffs, he said, you should have known that the name Jacques Breve was

fictitious.

I guess we ought to have checked him out, Lonny said ruefully.

Tell you what, Crawford said. How would you like to work in my garage? Youre still interested in becoming drivers, arent you?

24

You bet wed like a job! Wynn exclaimed. Well do anythingpush a broom, wash parts, run errands

Good. Heres my card. See you tomorrow. Crawford and Teddy returned to the fence to watch

the racers.

Wynn and Lonny were elated. The next morning

they reported for work. Crawfords shop was a new and exciting experience. Although Bud Eubanks

back home was known as an excellent mechanic

who ran a good repair station, the boys had not

realized how limited his facilities were until they

stepped inside this two-story building.

Lonny let out a low whistle of admiration, and

Crawford smiled. Theres a great difference between knowing how to repair a car and knowing

how to make it go faster, he said. My aim here is to run a self-sufficient shop where my men can

make the needed parts. Sometimes they cant, and thats where you come in. Youll be sent to other shops for the goods.

Tacked on the wall was a list with each mans name and the chores he was assigned, with a time

schedule to coordinate the work.

Thats efficiency, Wynn said. Itll be great working here, Mr. Crawford.

While Crawford went to get the boys keys, Wynn

and Lonny surveyed the shop. On one side, amid

25

gigantic machines that whined, groaned, and piled

metal shavings at their feet, were the machinists.

The gophers would soon learn one of their jobs was

to clear away scrap.

In another section were the weldersgas, arc, and heli-arc. They could bend all kinds of metal into

any shape. Between the machinists and the welders

stood a tall rack holding metal rods and sheets of

raw materials.

The fabricators, who made custom parts for cars,

walked back and forth to the equipment as they

assembled their machinery on separate

workbenchescarburetor scoops, collapsible steering columns, special dashboards with toggle

switches. Unlike a factory, the noise was irregular;

and though no one was loafing, it was not unusual to

hear the men singing to the piped-in music.

The walls were decorated with checkered victory

flags and horseshoe wreaths of dried roses that

confirmed the results of the mens hard work, for which they received a share of the purse.

Crawford caught the boys attention and beckoned them to his office. It was decorated with

trophies and photographs of championship racers.

An open door on the far end led into a drafting

room. Several men were bent over tables. Crawford

ushered the gophers inside.

These drawings will be given to the machinists

26

and fabricators, he explained. They, in turn, make the needed parts. Most of our skilled workers can do

their own drawings. We even put our drivers to

work, so theyll appreciate what goes on and take better care of the cars.

In the distance, a bansheelike crescendo filled the

shop with ear-splitting noise.

An engines being put on the dynamometer, Crawford said. Thats an apparatus to gauge the horsepower and give the mechanics various readings

as they experiment with adjustments like carburetor

settings and exhaust systems. He paused a moment, then went on, We can

generally gain ten percent more horsepower just by

having the dyno give us accurate readings before the

engines placed in the car. Touch, or feel, or a mans ear is not enough.

The wailing died down, and Crawford led the pair

to the engine-assembly room. It was set away from

the rest of the shop, sealed off from dust and

shavings of the work area, and it was as spotless as

an operating room. The image of the mechanic with

grease up to his elbows disappeared as soon as

Wynn and Lonny met the chief, Carl Ryberg. They

found out that he scrubbed his hands with a special

soap.

Parts were wrapped and stored on shelves in

perfect order to prevent making mistakes in the

27

internal assembly. Several engines were partially put

together and wrapped tightly in plastic to keep out

dust.

When their tour through the shop was over, the

boys were issued coveralls, and the rules were

explained to them. Several men were loading a

sprint car on a trailer for testing on a local track.

One of them asked the newcomers to go along, and

Crawford nodded his okay.

On the way Lonny noted that the sprint machine

was quite different from the light, agile rear-engined

European racers. It looked more like a trip back in

his racing-history book, when the old Indianapolis

drivers sat bolt upright in their front-engined cars

and slid through turns on their skinny tires.

The gangly crew chief, Nick Warren, explained,

The cars might look old-fashioned but this is a special kind of racing. The machines never get

outdated and put away in mothballs, because the

rules dont change all the time like they do in that fancy European racing.

A fellow can get a car and race it until it has to be turned out to pasture. The guy with the most

money isnt necessarily the one who wins. Of course there have been some changes,

Lonny said.

Sure, but theyve all been made to increase driver safetyroll cages, harnesses, and special fuel

28

tanks with internal cellular construction to prevent

explosion on impact, Nick said. The outlook of people in the sport had also

changed. At one time a roll cage was actually illegal

because rule-makers contended that a driver would

go faster if he werent afraid of breaking his neck for making a mistake.

They arrived at the track, which had just been

wetted down to settle the dust. Having no starter, the

sprint car was push-started by a pick-up truck with a

special wooden bumper. One of Crawfords mechanics took it around and it bounced off the

ground when the wheels struck the potholes left by a

race the week before. The auto skittered sideways

through the turns like a boat on rough water. The

mechanic pulled in and offered it to Wynn for a few

laps.

Keep the rpm down and just try to get the oil temperature up so it will be ready for the driver

when he arrives. Remember, you have to throw it

sideways to slow down in the turns. Brakes wont do a bit of good out there, slipping and sliding in the

mud. As Wynn climbed into the car, the crew started to

chuckle. Wait until he feels that engine come to life under his foot the first time, Warren said with a grin. Hell think hes riding a greased rocket!

The car leaped into action, and Lonny watched

29

Wynns arms as he struggled with the steering wheel while the mud from the front tires dashed against his

face. Although Lonny knew his friend could not turn

down this chance, he was worried about Wynns unfamiliarity with this type of car. Wynn gave the

engine a little more juice, and Lonny felt the exhaust

from the special fuel start to sting his eyes. Wynn

went faster.

Wed better get him in, Warren told the crew. Hes letting it out too much too soon. All we need is for the kid to overcook the bosss car and take it into the wall.

Look out! somebody exclaimed. The racer broke away in the mud and started to

spin. It turned 360 degrees by the wall, the engine

choking off as the car continued to loop. Lonny

heard the sound of rocks and mud on the wall, then

saw a whiff of black smoke. The left rear wheel hit

the wood, and the car slowed down to a halt at the

edge of the track. Wynn sat, stunned, while the

mechanics flocked around to check for damage.

No harm done, Nick said finally. But if youd gotten a hair closer to the wall, youd have scraped off more than rubber!

At that moment Crawford himself arrived. The

bosss usual smile was missing. I think you need driving lessons before you start

turning the wheel, he said stiffly to Wynn. Lets

30

see you turn wrenches for a while first. Then he looked at Nick. You shouldnt have let him have the car!

Wynn had a sick feeling of embarrassment and

shame. He apologized quietly, finding words for the

first time since the spin.

Okay, Crawford said, his expression softening. But remember, a race car isnt something to play with, and you dont get into a machine and become a champion just like that!

Back at the shop that afternoon, Wynn and Lonny

worked hard to clean the mud off the racer. Their

carefree attitude had disappeared, and Crawford

noticed.

Dont take it so hard, fellows, he said. I have a suggestion. Enroll in a Sports Car Club of America

Drivers School. A course is being held at Riverside next weekend.

The friends exchanged glances and Crawford

went on, I know how it is, believe me. I wanted to drive more than anything in the world myself. Then

I learned it was a long tough road to the top. Before

you start having any real thoughts about fast cars, I

think it would be a good idea to learn control in a

low-powered machineone that feels like a big race car but wont take you into the marbles quite so quickly.

It seemed as though the weekend would never

31

come. Crawford lent them helmets and flame-proof

suits, and they rented Formula Veesa racing class built around the Volkswagen engine and chassiswith some of the money they had earned at the shop.

Wynn and Lonny spent late evening hours reading

rule books, memorizing flags, and quizzing each

other.

Blue with yellow stripe, Wynn said. Means move over. Youre in the way of a faster

car. Black. Bad-boy flag. You have broken a rule and must

pit to talk to an official before returning to the

course. Red. Stop immediately where you are. Theres a bad

accident or some other course blockage. Their boss had arranged for them to spend a

couple of evenings at the shop where the Formula

Vees had been built. He believed that a driver must

know his automobile inside and out before trying to

race it.

Formula Vee racing, they learned, was often

called poor mans racing because a car could be purchased in kit form and built in much the same

way as the Beetle Bomb. The engines, gear boxes,

and wheels were taken from standard Volkswagens.

There were no exotic and expensive parts to buy.

32

Lonny was pleased to see the bug engines and

proud to be experienced help to the regular

mechanics. If we have any trouble, Wynn, old Beetle Bomb can lend us his power plant for a

while, he joked. Just remember, Wynn replied, we need Beetle

Bomb for traveling, and the racer is just for fun. Lonny noticed that since his spinout, Wynn had

become more conservative when talking about

racing. He had learned a lesson in responsibility and

how quickly an accident can happen on the track.

To give his new employees a chance to get the

most out of the Riverside School, Crawford had

assigned two of his mechanics to go along with them

to tune the cars. They all left the shop on Friday

afternoon. The mechanics loaded the Formula Vees

on a double-decker trailer while Wynn and Lonny,

along with Archie, set off in Beetle Bomb. All

carried camping equipment for the overnight stays at

the track.

The North Carolinians found that Riverside

International Raceway, one of the biggest in the

country, was located several hours east of Los

Angeles. The surrounding yellow-pink hills were

barren except for a few rock houses and sagebrush.

The winds blew clouds of dust.

The paved track, they learned, wound for miles,

with a difficult collection of uphill and downhill

33

esses and turns that snaked through the sand. The

pits were at one end, with a number of covered

garages and buildings where the mechanics serviced

cars. A grassy area separated the track from the pit

lane, where crewmen could signal their cars as they

passed. On the far side of the pit lane they saw a

concrete wall to protect working men from out-of-

control cars.

After their Formula Vees were unloaded and

registered, Wynn and Lonny polished the fiberglass

noses of the little racers to keep their nervousness

from showing.

You know what my mechanic just told me? Lonny said. My car will go one hundred and eighteen mph.

Wynn whistled. I guess it makes a lot of difference when your bumblebee motor has to pull a

dune buggy, camping equipment, two passengers,

plus a healthy hound dog. The whole car weighs only eight hundred

pounds, Lonny went on. Theres no room in the cockpit for anything but me, and Ill have to eat a light lunch.

Wynn slid into his seat, getting used to the feel of

the short gearshift, the tiny steering wheel, and the

reclining driving position for the rear-engined racer.

The top of his head seemed to be level with the top

of the tires.

34

Saturday morning they went through the

inspection of cars and drivers uniforms, then were given a short lecture on the weekends activities. After the written test, which the boys passed without

trouble, they began their on-course training.

Students were split up into small groups, and they

practiced each type of turn with a licensed sports-car

racer as an instructor.

During the lunch break, the tired neophytes

gathered in the shade of a garage for a quick hot

dog.

Lonny said, I thought my final exams at high school taught me how to concentrate, but this

driving course makes high school look like

hopscotch. Wynn nodded and wiped some mustard off his

chin. I wonder how the local street racers back home would feel after a taste of this. Suddenly he nudged Lonny. Lookee yonder!

Hooks Conway was just taking off his helmet! He

had not noticed the boys.

Lets stroll over and see what our old pal is up to, Lonny suggested.

The boys walked to the car Hooks had entered

and studied it. It was a small European sedan with

the name STEVE SMITH on the door.

Is this your car? Lonny asked. Thats right, Hooks replied, turning at the same

35

time. His eyebrows popped in surprise. Wh-what are you doing here?

Same as you, Wynn replied. How come you have the name Steve Smith on your car? Are you

using an alias in California so nobody will know

youre just a beginner? Hookss bullneck turned red. Instead of

answering, he lashed out with his right fist and hit

Wynn flush on the chin. Lonny watched in frozen

surprise as his friend fell over a stack of tires and

upset a pan of oil before one leg came to rest beside

a battery. It tipped over, spilling acid onto the leg of

Wynns driving suit!

36

CHAPTER IV

Saved by a Belle

Before Lonny could assist, Wynn rolled over,

jumped to his feet and grabbed Hooks by the collar.

Other student drivers gathered around to watch the

fight. Several tried to pull Wynn and Hooks apart,

but it was impossible. Wynn shoved Hooks. Hooks

teetered backward, lost his balance, and fell,

banging his head on his open toolbox.

With an oath, Hooks leaped up and grabbed a lug

wrench. He took a mean swipe at Wynn, missed,

and poised for another.

Suddenly a girl in a gold driving suit jumped

forward. With her blond ponytail swinging, she dealt

a couple of karate chops against Hookss neck. The man fell to a seated position and looked up,

completely dazed.

Not that I have anything against a good fight, the karate chopper said, tucking her suit in at the

37

waist, but Im opposed to mayhem. As she kicked the fallen wrench back toward the

toolbox, Wynn got a good look at his benefactor.

She was of medium height, with China-blue eyes, a

small tilted nose, and a slightly protruding lower lip.

This, with a full firm chin gave her a decidedly no-

nonsense appearance, which by now was fully

appreciated by the amazed Hooks.

But when she smiled as she helped the fallen man

to his feet, all the severity vanished from her face.

She was a handsome young woman, Wynn thought.

Thanks a lot, Wynn said, but I feel pretty silly being saved by a belle.

Her smile became a wide grin. Funny boy, if you dont mind a little female advice, Id suggest that you get that battery acid off your suit fast, or youll have more than a laundry problem. I spilled some on

the back of my jeans once and the whole bottom fell

out. Wynn hurried to a nearby faucet and drenched the

acid, while Lonny and the girl helped him scrub it

off.

The crowd broke up, and the boys and their new

friend walked toward their cars, leaving Hooks to

clean up the spilled oil and acid.

My names Ingrid Larsson, the girl said. Call me Inky.

The boys introduced themselves and Lonny said,

38

I didnt realize girls were in the course. Im the only one here, she said. But when I

went to my first racing school at Donnybrooke, near

where I live, there were three girls. I should have

enough hours to get my regional license if

everything goes okay this weekend. Donnybrooke? Then youre from Minnesota,

Wynn said.

Minneapolis. I thought you talked funny, Lonny teased. Inky laughed. Boy, when I heard you fellows

drawling like hillbillies, I hoped you wouldnt drive that slow!

Wynn and Lonny told Inky about their trip from

North Carolina, their run-in with Hooks, and the

racing-school swindle. She listened sympathetically.

Suddenly Wynn had an idea. Hey, Lonny, maybe Inky can help us find Nancy-Rae. He told her about the missing girl and asked Inky if she had

seen her.

No, Inky said. Ive only been in California a couple of weeks myself. But Ill keep an eye out. If I hear a girl talk as funny as you all, Ill let you know.

Thanks, Wynn said, and he gave her the telephone number of Crawfords shop.

Their attention turned to the track exit, where

Hooks Conways car was being loaded on a trailer.

39

Guess you knocked the edge off his reflexes, Inky, Lonny said. Hes packing out with the course not even half over.

Too bad hes leaving, Wynn remarked. Hes good, but hes got to learn a lot about driving.

Sunday morning the students practiced rolling

starts, and the boys realized that they, too, had

plenty to learn. Now all formula cars were allowed

out together. Since they didnt move in prescribed lanes, as they did on public roads, it proved to be

quite an experience. Wynn and Lonny found that

adjusting to vehicles on both sides, cutting in front,

tailgating, and swervingwith every driver for himselfwas quite difficult.

Everyone wanted the same fast lane through a

turn. It was not unusual for three cars to dive for the

identical spot at the same time, with first come, first

through, the other two yielding. A race from the

inside was made of a lot of small races and

challenges, wheel-to-wheel over several miles of

twisting and hilly road.

After the first few sessions, they learned that all

sorts of dramas had taken place out of their sight.

For one, a car had rolled over in the esses and

righted itself again before they had arrived on the

scene.

During the next practice race, the officials put the

red flag up. Lonny and Wynn screeched to a halt

40

only to find that many of their competitors kept

running. The flag was a hoax. Its purpose was to see

if the novices were paying attention.

Their alertness paid off, and they were awarded

points. The offenders were penalized.

Wynn discovered that the cars he passed on the

straight got around him just before he entered the

turns. When he talked to his instructor about his

problem, he was told simply, Youre from the southern hills. You ought to know the old

moonshiner approach to a curvein slow, out fast. Either you put your boot on the brake or keep it off.

Dont pussyfoot around. After several turns of locking up a wheel and

coughing in the blue rubber smoke as the tire slid,

Wynn started to get the feel of hard braking, jabbing

his foot on the pedal.

Lonny was told that he should apex tighter in the

turns, that he was leaving much of the road unused,

with the inside wide open for a car to duck in and

pass him. For several laps he thought about this and

realized that he still imagined cars coming from the

other direction. He laughed aloud at himself as he

tried to adjust to the one-way race-track traffic.

The school ended at about 4:00 P.M. on Sunday,

and the students nervously awaited the logbooks

with their scores for the various techniques. They

picked up their sheets and checked the areas in

41

which they needed more practice. To their surprise,

Wynn and Lonnys highest scores were awarded in the curve category.

Well, how did the southern moonshiners do? Inky called. She flashed a logbook, indicating that

she had qualified for her racing license.

Nice going, Wynn said. We should make the grade in one more session. All we need now is

practice. They always said back home that our roads

were laid out by tying a punctured bag of lime to a

cow and sending her on her way. It must have been

worth something to us. Hey. Inky frowned over their shoulders. Isnt

that your dog Archie? The boys turned to see the hound limping across

the pit area. Archie, fellow, what happened? Lonny questioned. I thought you were in the buggy? Did you step on something?

The dog lay down on his side, sticking one paw

up in the air.

Did somebody hurt you? Wynn rubbed the animals stomach softly, and he whined.

Say, does he belong to you? one of the instructors called.

Yes. What happened to him? I didnt see it, but someone said the guy you had

a fight with yesterday kicked him. Lonny lifted the pet into his arms and carried him

42

to Beetle Bomb. I think wed better have a vet look at him, just to be sure.

Inky knew an animal hospital that was open

seven days a week. I took my girl friend Lilos cat there a few days ago, she said, jotting down the address.

The boys thanked her and she left, waving good-

by. Then they helped load their cars onto the trailer.

It was agreed that the mechanics would take the

racers back to Crawfords garage to keep them safe until next morning.

Dont bother cleaning them, Wynn said. Well drop over later and take care of that.

They headed for the vets in Beetle Bomb. The hospital was immaculate and the doctor in charge, a

pleasant young man. He suggested that Archie stay

for a few days so he could keep an eye on the

swelling around the bruised ribs. He wanted to make

sure there was no internal bleeding.

Ill miss the old pooch, Lonny said, as they left the hospital and drove to the shop.

The mechanics were just leaving as they pulled

in. Thanks a lot, pals, Wynn called out. See you tomorrow.

The young racers took a long look at the

condition of the machines. They need a bath before we put em to bed, Lonny commented, and a little polish, too.

43

They worked for two hours until the Formula

Vees shone. It was dark when they prepared to

leave, exhausted and hungry.

What say we go to Bull Heaven, Lonny said. I dont think I can sleep with my stomach roaring this loud. Sounds like a race going on inside me.

Lets lock up. Its been quite a day. Wynn closed the big door and snapped the padlock. Lonny

was already behind the wheel of Beetle Bomb, and

the motor was purring in the damp night air.

Listen to that lullaby, Lonny said, as his buddy slipped in beside him. What a sweet baby!

They traveled about a mile to Bull Heaven, one of

their favorite hamburger spots. The sandwiches were

thick and juicy, and Lonnys growling stomach stopped complaining.

Wynn picked up the check and reached for his

wallet. Oh, rats! I must have left it in my driving suit. I feel like I left my brains in it, too. Wed better go back to the shop.

So that leaves me holding the check, Lonny said, and he paid the bill.

They arrived in minutes. Wynn unlocked the door

and as he pushed it open, the sound of breaking

glass shattered the silence!

44

CHAPTER V

Surveillance Clue

Wynn and Lonny rushed into the garage and

switched on the lights. No one was in sight.

Somebody must have broken in, Lonny whispered. Hes probably hiding.

Or broken out, Wynn suggested. Lets look for the smashed glass first.

They checked the windows on both sides of the

building.

Here it is, Lonny called out. You were right. It must have been stuck, and he banged right through

it. Most of the glass fell outside. They climbed through the window and searched

the neighborhood in vain.

He got away, Wynn said, possibly with some cuts and bruises.

The boys thought that the intruder might have

slipped in unnoticed when the mechanics returned

45

the cars earlier in the evening.

Then we came in, Lonny said, so he had to hide until we left. Lucky thing you forgot your

wallet and we had to drive back. They went into the garage. Now lets see if any

damage was done, Wynn said. They fine-combed the equipment until Wynn spied something unusual.

Look, Lon. The plastics been ripped off this new engine. A crumpled covering lay beside the workbench. The boys examined the engine

carefully.

Maybe its a case of espionage, Wynn offered. Lets look in the drafting room.

You were right, Lonny said as they entered. He pointed to a sheaf of drawings strewn about the

floor.

Who could it have been? Wynn said. Lonny shrugged. Hooks, maybe? But then he

shook his head. No. I dont think hed be that rotten.

Why? Just a gut feeling. Besides, we cant accuse him

without evidence. Wynn went to the telephone and called Crawford.

Notify the police, his boss said. Ill be right over.

A squad car arrived first, and Crawford followed.

Two policemen, one a detective, studied the break-in

46

and dusted the engine for fingerprints. There were

none. Nor were any clues found in the drafting

room.

The guy must have used gloves, the detective said. Well check this area more frequently from now on, Mr. Crawford.

The garage owner and the boys headed for his

spacious home on the ocean at Palos Verdes, where

Wynn and Lonny had rented a small apartment over

his large three-car garage. It had a bedroom, kitchen,

a living room that they hardly used, and a place to

work on Beetle Bomb.

Next morning they overslept, but managed to

dash to work in time, each munching a prune

Danish. Their first chore was to collect work rags

and soiled coveralls for the laundryman, who called

every Monday.

Hi, Clarence, Wynn said, going to the door. Heres the dirty stuff.

The laundryman, middle-aged, affable, and

talkative, was in no hurry to leave. That your VW? he asked, nodding toward Beetle Bomb. It was parked in front instead of its usual place in the

garage.

Sure is. Lon and I built it, Wynn replied. Are you getting it ready for the Baja? You mean the off-road race in Mexico? Yeah. Must have seen half a dozen buggies like

47

yours entered in the Mexicali 1000. Tell us more. The laundryman looked pleased. It starts

November first, the day after Halloween, in

Mexicali, just over the border. It ends at La Paz,

almost a thousand miles down the Baja Peninsula. Wynn and Lonny talked enthusiastically with

Clarence until they were called back inside to work

on the sprint cars. But they had learned plenty about

the race.

The Mexicali 1000 was open to dune buggies,

and a special class called Baja Bug included all

varieties of rough-road Volkswagens. The boys

could run the race together, trading off the

navigating and driving chores to conserve energy on

the long tough haul down mostly unpaved and

unmarked roads.

To enter, a contestant had to be sixteen, the bug

had to pass a safety inspection, and the racers were

required to join the Mexicali Racing Association.

The complete trip would take a bug nearly

twenty-four hours. Drivers rode all night, crossing

the more populated areas of Mexicali and Trinidad

and driving into the Baja territory.

Thats for us! Wynn said. Lets sign up. While dreaming of the 1000, the gophers spent

their days preparing race cars. Archie, who had been

released by the vet, watched as they worked. In the

48

evening, Crawford allowed them to use his

equipment to beef up Beetle Bomb for the rough

terrain of the Baja. Each metal joint had to be

rewelded and braced, the suspension parts replaced

with heavy-duty pieces.

When they disassembled the sprint cars for the

inspection required by the racing association,

Crawford took them to a specialty shop, where they

learned how metal fatigue and cracks were detected.

The rules, Crawford told them, required that many

of the parts be magnafluxedby a metal x-ray originally designed for aircraft useto expose hidden defects.

The process fascinated the boys. In the magna-

flux shop, Lonny watched with keen interest as the

parts were coated with a special substance and put

under detector lights to illuminate every flaw in the

metal, hidden or on the surface. Each spot where a

tool had slipped showed blue under the lights. The

mechanic proudly showed them a faulty piece he

had discovered in a spacecraft part. It seemed like a

bolt of blue lightning.

That, the man said, could have destroyed a multimillion-dollar space shot.

As the days sped by, Wynn and Lonny became

more eager to race, and they brought up the subject

time and again with ill-disguised subtlety. Finally

Crawford promised to let them compete in a

49

Saturday-night sprint race. To prepare for it, they

practiced one afternoon a week on the local track,

learning how to sling the car sideways in the

corners.

Then the big day arrived. In the late afternoon

they joined Crawfords caravan of cars and mechanics in the hour-long trip to Ascot Park in

Gardena. After their first practice session under the

lights, the pair came into the pits, their arms sore

and mudsplattered.

Boy, I couldnt see anything but brown, Lonny exclaimed.

When Wynn took the car out for a qualifying run,

his heart thumped as the push truck started him

rolling. If he could only qualify the first time out!

He tried to remember all the techniques and drove as

fast as possible without racking up. When he

finished, Lonny took his qualifying run and came in,

grinning with satisfaction.

Crawford called them over. Good news, boys. You are only one second off the pace. Not good

enough for the final tonight. But dont worry. Before long theyll let you start in one of the racing heats to see if you qualify for a feature race. After that,

maybe youll make the big one, the trophy dash. They beamed. Only one second, Lonny mused.

Hey, were getting good. Dont raise your hopes too high yet, fellows,

50

Crawford said. Remember that even though one second doesnt sound like much, it means hundreds of feet on a race track.

They started to load the sprint car for the trip to

the wash when Lonny suddenly grabbed Wynns arm. Dont look around too fast, but theres a guy Id like to meet.

Wynn turned slowly, dropping the wrench he had

held in his hand. As he stooped to pick it up, he

glanced at the man, who was about to step into a

taxi. He was tall, thin, and well dressed. Wynn

realized why Lonny wanted to meet him. Through

the center of the mans black hair ran a streak of white!

Get things together quickly, Lonny. Weve got to follow Jacques Breve!

The man slammed the cab door shut. Wynn

quickly arranged for Crawfords mechanics to take care of the racer, and the two boys followed the taxi

in Beetle Bomb. The man was driven to a local

motel. He walked briskly into the lobby and

disappeared before Wynn and Lonny could reach the

desk.

Who was that fellow who just came in? Wynn asked the clerk.

I didnt see anyone. Hes tall and has a streak of white in his hair.

The clerk shrugged. Disappointed, the boys left.

51

I have an idea, Lonny said. Lets go back to the car wash. Maybe they know him.

Most of the mechanics were still there when they

arrived. The boys spoke with a number of men until

they finally had some success. An older man

identified their quarry, who was said to be Charlie

Jayson, a character to stay clear of. At one time

Charlie had been a top driver, but a bad accident in

the days before roll bars became legal had caused a

head injury. The streak of white hair was one result

of that accident.

Hes got a mean streak, too, the older man said. I hear hes not too honest, either.

Do you know where he lives? Wynn asked. No. Matter of fact, I havent seen him in a long

time. The boys thanked the mechanic and walked out.

Do you think we ought to get the cops on him now? Wynn asked.

Lets not jump to conclusions, Lonny cautioned. Jayson might not be the only guy with a white streak in his hair.

Wynn nodded. But weve got to check this out somehow. Tomorrow evening were not busy. What say we stake out his motel and see if we can tail

him? Good thought. Now wed better get back to the

garage.

52

The companions stopped working early the next

evening to shadow Jayson. They saw him leave his

motel at eight oclock and walk across the street to a restaurant. They peered through the window to see

him slide into a high-backed booth. A man was

waiting for him. Hooks Conway!

I dont believe it! Lonny whispered. The men shook hands and started to talk.

Come on, Wynn said. Well get that next booth and eavesdrop.

Partially concealed by a group of departing

patrons, the boys slipped into the adjacent booth and

listened. Jayson was talking.

It worked and itll work again. All we have to do is make a fast buck and move on to Mexico for a

while. Ive got a great new racket starting down there already.

Hooks spoke in a flat tone of voice. I dont know, Charlie. Youre the man with the ideas, but I wonder if the same game can work again.

Sure it can! You take one of those little mountain newspapers thats always struggling for advertisers. Theyll put it in. I got a list of thirty papers in the Carolinas alone. All you have to do is

rent a Post Office box and open a bank account

under a fictitious name. When the money comes in,

you close the account and well split the take. Id do it myself but Ill have to be in Mexico in a week.

53

As other people walked in, the men lowered their

voices, and after a few minutes Jayson left. When he

was out of sight, Wynn and Lonny jumped to their

feet and confronted Hooks.

Hey! Whered you guys come from? he asked. May we sit down? Lonny slid into the booth,

blocking Hooks.

We havent been formally introduced, I believe. Wynn Redford here. My pals Lonny Morris. But you could say weve already met.

The astonished Hooks was speechless. He looked

around the room as if he might spy Inky Larsson

lurking for a karate attack.

Why did you bust into our garage? Wynn shot the question and watched Conways face.

Bust into your garage? What do you mean? Hooks asked with an innocent look.

Okay, skip it. Now, about your friend Charlie Jayson. Hes cheated us out of a bundle. You know what Im talking about.

No. I have no idea, eh Hooks stumbled. We answered one of his phony ads! Lonny

said. Listen, Hooks. Why do you want to get mixed up with such a character? Youre a good engine builder and racer, too. Dont let Jayson get you into trouble now, or youll end your racing career before it begins!

Hooks sat quietly and listened. Okay, Ill think it

54

over. Let me out of here now. He left, and the boys lingered over coffee.

I hope we put our point across, Lonny said. Okay. Now lets get the police, Wynn said.

We know for sure that Jaysons our man. The boys went to the telephone, and in a few

minutes a flashing roof light signaled the arrival of a

prowl car. They hastened over to it and went into the

motel with the officers.

Now the clerk was more cooperative. A Mr. Jay,

with a white streak in his hair, had been registered.

But he left just a few minutes ago, the man said. What address did he give on the registration?

one of the officers asked.

The clerk checked. New York City. No street or number.

I think you misjudged Hooks, Wynn said after the police had gone. My guess is that he ran right over here and warned Jayson!

Youre probably right, Lonny admitted glumly.

55

CHAPTER VI

Careless Archie

Putting Hooks and Jayson out of their minds, the

two racers concentrated on grooming Beetle Bomb.

Early one Friday evening Inky phoned. What are you hermits doing these days? she asked.

Fussing with our baby, Wynn said. We want to race in the Mexicali 1000.

Then get baby out on the desert for some exercise, Inky advised.

What do you mean? She told them about a practice race area near Las

Vegas, which would give them a chance to check

out their equipment before the grueling Baja run.

Im going there tomorrow, Inky said. I want to test my new single-seater Sandmaster.

Are you entering the Baja race, too? Sure. Will you come tomorrow? Maybe we will.

56

All the great off-road drivers will be there, including Parnelli Jones.

Mention of the former Indianapolis champion and

reigning king of Baja thrilled Wynn.

Okay, he said. See you there. Lonny shared Wynns excitement, especially

when he was told about Parnelli Jones.

Wow! he exclaimed. I never dreamed Id ever see him race. And now old Beetle Bomb will be on

the same road as Parnellis Ford Bronco! The boys told Crawford about their plans. Teddy

begged to go along and got permission. He could

take care of Archie while he watched the racers.

Early the next morning they packed an ice chest full

of refreshments, loaded special off-road racing tires

into the car, and were on their way by daylight.

On the long ride across the desert, they saw an

occasional wooden shack with no windows, where

some old recluse might have retreated to escape the

city life of Los Angeles. Decrepit car hulks sat

rusting and sinking, slowly being covered by the

wind-driven sand. Although there was some

sagebrush and cactus, the wind blew across the

desert unhampered, making sanddrifts on the

highway and peppering the open buggy with sand.

The boys and Teddy wore goggles while they

moved through the yellow dust cloud. Blinking,

Archie covered his eyes with his paws.

57

At the race site, the boys unloaded their tool box

and racing wheels, leaving Teddy to watch their

possessions. Archie pulled at his leash, eager to

break away and loosen up his limbs in a run across

the burning sand. Lonny warned the boy to keep him

in tow, because he might disturb the racers that were

already on practice runs.

The site of the practice session was much like the

area they had crossed to get there, except that there

was a course marked with pylons to keep the cars

traveling safely within bounds. Repeated use had

caused the once-flat desert to drift and shape into

dunes, giving the drivers a variety of hills and

valleys on which to test their cars.

Lonny jacked up the buggy and put on the special

desert-racing tires marked with a deep tread for

traction in the sand. He stacked the four street

wheels that he had removed and lifted Teddy on top

to give him a better view, handing him the end of

Archies leash. Other competitors were trying out the course.

Buzzing over the dunes, the cars spun out

frequently, often tipping up on two wheels as the

drivers tried to find the limit of adhesion in the loose

sand. Lonny instinctively looked around for

emergency vehicles and when he spotted an

ambulance and tow truck, he knew they were well

covered.

58

At the edge of the track he watched a buggy come

over a hill. It was fitted with driving lights that

resembled eyes, and the roll cage towered like

antennas on a strange insect. All four wheels left the

ground, causing the engine to race loudly as the car

leaped from the crest of the hill down the side.

The wheels moved loosely on the suspension,

adjusting the vehicle to the potholes in the course.

But the driver and passenger were bounced

mercilessly in their seats, even though they were

strapped across their laps and shoulders. Both wore

bandannas across their mouths for protection from

the dust.

Lonny called to his partner. Hey, Wynn. This is what its going to be like on the moon in a few years. Buggies everywhere.

The boys climbed aboard Beetle Bomb and

buckled their belts. Wynn was in the drivers seat. They waved at Teddy and took off for a few runs

over the dunes.

All cars were going in one direction to prevent

mishaps in the dust that was now rising and reducing

visibility. Wynn noted that it was like moving on a

cloud. The dust hung in a pall, completely covering

everything 3 feet off the ground.

Lonny coughed. You could run over a cactus here and never see it!

Wynn struggled with the wheel as the buggy hit

59

potholes pounded out by the cars ahead.

Inky had a good idea, though, he said. We needed a taste of this! He grinned and wiped dust off his mouth. Got to remember to add some items to our list for the Bajabandannas and good, heavy driving gloves, for instance.

Time and again the steering was wrenched from

Wynns grip as he sped along, the back end of the buggy fishtailing in the loose sand. He increased his

speed to prevent wheelspin and avoid getting stuck.

Now the dust was thicker than ever. Suddenly

Lonny screamed. Wynn! Look out! Its that crazy Archie!

The hound leaped up through the dunes, his leash

trailing. Wynn swerved and missed him, but the

buggy dropped the left rear wheel into a deep hole,

tipped over on the drivers side, crashed to the sand, and stopped with its wheels turning in the air!

Wynns body fell against the ground, and Lonny was pressed tightly against him. The seat belts had

held fast, and when all was still, Lonny struggled to

get out of his harness. While fumbling for the

buckles, he heard Wynn moaning. People were

surrounding the buggy. Someone lifted Lonny out,

and he dropped to his knees beside his partner.

Wynn, where do you hurt? The injured boy groaned again and looked up at

his friend. My side. Real bad.

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While Lonny undid the harness, two men pushed

through, carrying a stretcher. They slid Wynn gently

onto it and lifted him into the waiting ambulance.

Just then Teddy ran up breathlessly with a rope tied

to Archie.

I couldnt help it, Lonny! He got away from me after those crazy road runners! Teddy stared at the ambulance and was near tears.

I know it wasnt your fault, Lonny said. Dont worry too much now. Wynnll be all right.

The two waited beside the ambulance for word on

Wynn while watching the rescue crew right the

buggy. It was rolled off the course and back to the

starting area so the racers could resume their

practice. From a distance it appeared unharmed.

Finally the attendant emerged from the

ambulance. Relax. Nothings broken, he told Lonny. But hes got some pretty serious bruises on the ribs. Well take him back to L. A. for a few days in General Hospital.

Lonny went to the ambulance window and tapped

on the glass. Wynn looked up. Hey buddy. You okay?

It only hurts when I laugh, and I dont plan to do much of that for a while. Hows the buggy?

Looks good as new, but I havent checked it over yet. We ought to weld a side brace into the roll

cage. If this had happened in rocks instead of sand,

61

both you and Beetle Bomb might have been write-

offs. The ambulance driver climbed in and started the

engine.

Lonny waved to Wynn and called out, See you tonight!

Then he and Teddy went to change the wheels on

Beetle Bomb and gather their gear. After a cold

lunch, they set off on the return trip. Beetle Bomb,

only slightly scratched and dented, was in running

order. On the way out Lonny looked around for Inky

Larsson but could not spot her. Parnelli Jones was

not in sight, either, among the dozens of practicing

racers.

That evening Lonny checked on Wynn at the

hospital. He found him comfortable but somewhat

wan. He needed quiet for a few days, but was only

bruised. Lonny assured his friend that Beetle Bomb

was no worse off than he was, just a few bangs on

the paint job that could be repaired by the time

Wynn was ready to try again.

Archies thoroughly ashamed of himself, Lonny said, laughing. He may even give up watching races. Too dangerous.

Lonny had just left the hospital when Inky

Larsson popped her head in the door.

How you doing, kid? First you, then the carin that order. Inky explained that she had arrived for

62

practice late and had learned of Wynns accident from the other drivers.

Wynn told her what happened, and Inky said,

You hillbillies are pretty rugged people. But youll never win the Baja with your wheels in the air!

Wynn made a face. Very funny. To cheer him up, the girl related some tidbits

about Baja that she had picked up at the desert

course. Finally she said, Well, Id better get back to work on my car. Cant let the competition distract me with their fancy driving techniques.

Inky, no kidding. I really appreciate your coming byand the tip on the practice course.

She grinned and patted his hand. I didnt figure youd want to practice turning over, but I guess it takes all kinds.

As she rose to leave, Wynn said, Stop by the shop next week if you get a minute. Id like you to see the setup and meet Mr. Crawford.

Sure will. Id be very proud to meet him. Hes a respected man here in California. By the way,

Wynn, speaking of meeting people. Nancy-Rae

sends her best!

63

CHAPTER VII

Lonnys Victory

Wynn sat up, wincing from the pain in his side.

Where did you see her? At Willow Springs. She talks just like you all. Where does she live? She didnt tell me. But she said she might enter a

motorcycle in the Baja race. See you. Inky disappeared down the hospital corridor.

Before her footsteps had reached the end of the hall,

Wynn had his note pad in his hand and was writing a

letter to Bud Eubanks. Wynn knew Bud had been

checking the mailbox for some word on her

whereabouts every day since they left.

In the letter, Wynn assured him he would try to

talk to Nancy-Rae after he was out of the hospital.

He felt their paths would cross soon. Then he told

Bud about their adventures, including being

swindled by Jayson. Hes planning some more

64

phony ads, the kind that suckered Lonny and me, he wrote. Be on the lookout for them and send me a copy by air mail, special delivery, as soon as one

appears. Lonny worked on the buggy late the next night in

the garage under their apartment. Teddy was at his

side constantly, asking questions, washing parts, and

polishing.

Youre getting to be good help, Teddy, Lonny told him. I think wed better start counting you in on our crew.

The boy beamed as he scrubbed wheel bearings

in a tub of solvent. He had been around his father

long enough to know the importance of perfection in

racing and the care that must be taken with every

auto part. He had talked Crawford into letting him

go along to greet the boys in La Paz at the end of the

race.

The garage door opened. Well, I never have any trouble finding Teddy these days, Crawford said cheerfully. Are you about to make a mechanic out of him, or is he getting in the way?

The boys frown changed to a grin as Lonny answered, Hes topflight, Mr. Crawford. As meticulous and careful as any racing mechanic Ive ever known. Checking and double checking

everything. And he pays attention. All he needs is a

little experience.

65

Crawford patted his son on the head, as the boy

scrubbed the shiny metal with an old toothbrush.

Speaking of experience. All my drivers are tied up, testing the sports cars at Willow Springs the next

few days. I wonder if youd like to drive a midget in a rookie race tomorrow. I just bought it and would

like to see what you think of it. At the thought of racing a smaller version of the

sprint car, Lonny felt butterflies in the pit of his

stomach.

Me drive? Why not? You can take it easy and not get in

over your head. I want some feedback on the car.

We can use the race for a test session. I like my

mechanics to drive occasionally. Sure. I mean, dont think I dont want to try it.

And Ill be careful. I just never thought of myself as a driver. Something about the difference between

the nut who turns the wheel and the one who turns

the wrenches. Suit up tomorrow by six and well go out for

practice before the race. Crawford walked out the door, and Teddy began to jump around.

Oh boy! Oh boy! Oh boy! Hold it, kid. Dont get too excited yet. Your dad

will put me out to pasture if I run his car into the

wall. I can get a bolt on straight, but right now Im not so sure about my head.

66

The next evening, under the lights of Ascot Park,

Lonny took the car out for a few warm-up laps. He

let it out a little more each time, like a frisky colt, as

he adjusted to the wheels sliding in the mud in the

turns. When he threw the front wheels sideways, the

car slowed and side-slipped through the turns. Nick

Warren instructed him carefully during each break

period.

Gradually throw the car sideways and slide it hard. Thatll scrub off more speed and youll be able to go down the straights faster. I want you to get the

feel of everything first. Then well see how you do when the traffic gets tighter out there.

After his qualifying run, Lonny found that he had

placed in the center of the pack. His head throbbed

from concentration and the alcohol fumes that filled

his nostrils. After the push start, he moved around

the track in the group and realized for the first time

that he could not hear his own engine over the roar.

He felt propelled and moved in rhythm with the

other cars through the turns as they attempted to line

up for the green flag. The helmet was closed tight

around his ears, and his shield was becoming

speckled with mud from the wheels of his own car

and those in front of him. Crawford had rigged a

stack of tear-off shields for his goggles that could be

snatched free on the straightaway when visibility

dimmed.

67

The midget pounded up and down as the

speedsters roughed up the track, and it seemed to

surge forward in spurts as it reacted to the potholes.

The green flag was in the starters hands as Lonny came around the turn before the straight. The roar of

the engines rose. It was going to be a start!

When the flag dropped, Lonny put his foot to the

floor, and his car lunged with the pack. In the first

turn, he moved past two other drivers and took the

high line through the turn. But one of the cars passed

him again on the exit.

After the first lap, he realized that the speed and

concentration at the moment would be too great for

him to see the pitboard in Teddys hand, indicating his position. He could think of nothing but the track

in front and the cars beside him.

The race instantly narrowed down to a fight

between Lonny and whoever happened to run

alongside. It didnt matter whether they were racing for the first or last place. The competition felt the

same.

As Lonny approached the first turn on the fifth

lap, he saw a car ahead of him go sidewaystoo far sidewaysand the number flashed in his face as it spun around, once, twice. He moved low to the

apron, clearing the spinning car. The yellow flag

was out, indicating no passing. All contestants had

to hold their positions until the vehicle was restarted.

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The deafening noise and rising fumes subsided

briefly while the midgets moved slowly, maintaining

their positions. Lonny passed the pits, and now he

could see Teddy. A five was on the board!

Impossible! How could he be in fifth place after

passing only one car? Lonny looked in the pit lane

and saw a row of steaming midgets. There was his

answer. Many of the front runners had dropped out!

The green flag waved again and they were off

once more. Traffic grew sparser as the number of

competitors decreased. Lonny pulled away a tear-off

goggle shield, and everything became brighter. This

time, as he passed the car in front, he held his

position coming out of the turn. He started a mental

count. Fourth. If Teddy was right, he was fourth.

As he passed the pits, the row of boards was now

visible. L-4four laps to go. Lonny counted them as the leaders pulled far ahead. He drove hard,

feeling the heat of the man behind him trying to

regain his lost position.

Then it happened. The lead car spun. The other

two slowed to go around, and Lonny found himself

sailing through a hole between the sprawling

competitors. It was almost as if he could hear the

nerf bars on the side scraping as he sprang into the

clear.

One rear wheel touched another midget slightly,

but he controlled the bobble by putting his foot on

69

the throttle. As he emerged from the last turn and

looked into the starters box, he saw the checkered flag folded in the mans hand. He waved it, snapping it above Lonnys head.

The boy thought he heard a cheer, but he wasnt sure. Had he won? Was he the first to get the flag?

His head was too full to think clearly.

Lonny pulled into the pits and saw Crawford

running up to him. Hey buddy, dont come in here, his boss shouted. They have a special place for the winner.

Youve got to be kidding! No, sir. You won it. Get over to the victory

circle and kiss the race queen. With a chuckle, Crawford added, I thought I told you this was just to be a test session.

Stunned, Lonny climbed out of the midget, and it

was pushed to the winners circle. Teddy ran up to him, squealing. Maybe you shouldnt spend all your time being a mechanic, huh?

Thats what I say. Lonny turned to the speaker. He was the owner of the car that had run first and

spun on the last lap. Im looking for a driver who can keep it all going in the right direction, he continued. Are you interested?

A driver? Me? No thanks. I mean I know Im a driver. Well, sort of. But I work for Mr. Crawford,

and thats where I want to stay.

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A pretty girl presented him with a silver cup, and

the kiss she planted on his grimy cheek made Lonny

show pink through the dirt. Teddy grinned as they

walked back to the pits, where Crawford shook the

winners hand. A guy tried to hire him already, Daddy, Teddy

reported. But he wouldnt go. If you want more driving time, Lonny, maybe

you should take it, Crawford said kindly. I have to stick to contracts with my drivers for the rest of the

season and cant guarantee you much I like it where I am, Mr. Crawford, Lonny said.

Today I just had a lucky break. But Ive got a lot to learn and I think youre the person to teach me.

Crawford patted him on the shoulder.

The next day, at the hospital, Lonny told Wynn of

his victory.

Great going, old buddy, the patient said. I cant believe how much Ive missed in just a few days. Ill admit it, Lonny, Im jealous. Ive got to get out of this place. No medicine in the world would be

better for me now than a little action.