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
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII

1
14
25
33
42
51
62
72
82
94
104
116
127
136
146
157
167
177

GRADUATING TO A 260Z
THE EXTRA WRENCH
REUNION AT ATLANTA
TIMING TROUBLE
INKYS HARD LUCK
A SHINER FOR BRAD
GOOD OLD JABBO
A FLAPPING DOOR
QUARTZ-LIGHT ASSIST
SKID-PAD MAGIC
A SICK MG
A SPY IN THE HOUSE?
THE POGO STICK PRINCIPLE
THAR SHE BLOWS!
TEN DAYS IN THE CLINK
RED AND YELLOW FLAGS
OUT OF THE PAST
SOCKO

GT CHALLENGE

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.
1

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
2

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
3

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 orangeand-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
4

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
5

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.
6

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
7

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
8

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.
9

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
10

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
11

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
12

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!

13

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
14

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.
15

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
16

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
17

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.
18

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.
19

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.
20

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 highperformance 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?
21

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.
22

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,
23

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!

24

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
25

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
26

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
27

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.
28

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 NancyRae, 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
29

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.
30

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.
31

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!

32

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
33

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.
34

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
35

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
36

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 offcourse 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
37

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
38

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
39

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
40

dont win races with your fancy watches, kiddo.

Youll find out tomorrow when I roll right over
anybody who gets in my way!

41

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
42

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
43

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
44

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
45

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
46

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.
47

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
48

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
49

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!

50

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
51

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
52

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,
53

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
54

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.
55

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 NancyRae bid the boys good-by and went quietly into
56

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.
57

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
58

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,
59

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
60

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!

61

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
62

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
63

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
64

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
65

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
66

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
67

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.
68

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!
69

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
70

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!

71

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. The driver explained to an MP
that he had left it unguarded only for a few moments
while he escorted his passengers to their campsite.
Those buses dont come with locks, either,
Lonny said. I feel sorry for those people.
So do I. Hey, Lonnywheres Flynn?
The elusive inspector was nowhere to be seen.
The boys walked around the bus and behind the fire
trucks, which were blowing dry chemicals into the
blaze.
We lost him, Lonny finally admitted. Maybe
hell be around tomorrow.
72

The boys returned to their tent to get some sleep.

Next morning they awakened to the unpleasant
smell of burned rubber, as smoke from the gutted
bus continued to roll across the race track.
The young people hurried to the dismal scene.
Investigators were at the site, trying to determine the
cause of the blaze.
What do you suspect? Wynn asked one of the
disgruntled men.
Suspect? he said sarcastically. Theres no
question about it. Arson. Vandalism. We found three
gasoline cans in the bus.
Thats nothing new, another inspector added.
These so-called pranks occur at events across the
country. People get rowdy and go on a destructive
binge.
The day had been designated Press Day.
Members of nearby newspapers and the major
automotive publications arrived at Laguna Seca to
interview the drivers while their minds were still
free of the pressures of the actual race. It also gave
journalists an opportunity to take a fast ride in a race
car with an experienced driver explaining the
various skills involved.
Brad and Nancy-Rae decided to take the day off
to go into San Francisco to sleuth for Jeff Kuralt and
to buy a Polaroid camera for skid-pad testing.
Before they left, they called Jeff to report their safe
73

arrival.
Im glad you kids made it, Jeff said. And I
might as well tell you that San Francisco is
becoming one of the biggest hit spots for the con
artists. Ive had three angry phone calls from car
dealers this week.
We were just on our way to S. F. to interview
dealers, Brad said.
Good. The pattern of the Altagem swindles
seems to follow the IMSA racing circuit, Jeff said.
Its really strange.
That evening the young racers met at the
campfire. Inky had bought steaks to grill for dinner,
a rare treat for the economical travelers, and Brad
proudly demonstrated his new camera, taking a
group picture that was developed in seconds.
We didnt get any leads on the swindler, he
reported, except that the man is dark haired and
slender. The accent that was noticed in Atlanta
doesnt seem to be evident here. Maybe we are up
against two or more men.
One thing, Nancy-Rae added, the Toyota
dealer said the man appeared to be a native of San
Francisco. His knowledge of the area was quite
thorough.
Are you thinking what Im thinking? Wynn
asked.
Right, Lonny said. Why not start a
74

conversation with Bill Flynn and find out what he

knows?
Brad, who never was at a loss for words, was
elected to seek out Flynn. He strolled down to the
technical-inspection tent. Flynn was busy
scrutinizing the cars that had begun to line up for his
approval.
All drivers had to furnish a properly approved
helmet and suit, with fireproof gloves and leather
shoes. Also, each car was checked for roll bar and
belt safety, and compliance with the rules of the
series. The IMSA inspection was more informal
than that of other racing groups. The inspector
merely went from car to car, making his
observations when the driver could spare a minute
after unpacking his gear.
Brad walked up and began to chat with Flynn
about the merits of the cars in front of him. What
are you looking for in your inspection? he asked. I
was curious to know if you could spot illegalities on
the surface?
Very few of them, Flynn replied. Almost any
great variation from the rules would be revealed
only with an engine tear down. I would suggest that
a driver who is suspicious of one of his competitors
initiate his own search. Im looking mainly for
safety items, making sure the car will not be more
hazardous than it should be in an accident.
75

While Brad chatted with Flynn, Nancy-Rae

slipped behind the racer Flynn had been inspecting
and snapped his picture with the Polaroid. It would
be handy to have a portrait of their suspect to show
dealers!
This area of the country is new to me, Brad
went on. I would like to do some parts shopping
tomorrow. You know any good places in San
Francisco?
What kind of dealer are you looking for?
Datsun and Dodge.
Flynn said that the auto dealers were all in one
part of the city. He drew Brad a map, explained how
to locate the automotive area, and named several
speed shops that gave discounts to racers. Brad
thanked him and left. He met Nancy-Rae in the
parking lot.
Got the picture, she said, pulling the developed
photograph out of the camera. Not a bad-looking
mug shot, eh? This one may make the wall of the
post office!
Good. Now look what I have. He showed her
the map. Flynn drew the exact same route that you
and I traveled today when we went downtown to call
on the dealers. He knew the way without even
looking at a map!
The next morning before practice opened at noon,
Brad and Nancy-Rae drove into town again with
76

their photo. To their disappointment, none of the

dealers would make a positive identification.
Looks like him, one dealer said. Could be,
declared another. But Im not sure.
What do you think? Brad asked Nancy-Rae as
they headed back to Laguna Seca.
I dont know, Brad. Flynn might just look like
the swindler and really be on the level.
As they approached the track entrance, a military
policeman waved them ahead of a group of cars.
When he turned his back, a black sports car darted in
front of them.
Look out! Nancy-Rae screamed.
The car almost clipped their front fender.
That fool! Brad said angrily. Ill have to teach
him a lesson about respecting his elders! He revved
the motor and his carefully tuned engine pulled up
the steep hill and around the black car. Soon they
were forced to halt again in the tight traffic. The
sports car attempted once more to pass them and
almost collected the rear of the MG.
Nancy-Rae stood up in her seat. This reckless
driving is getting ridiculousI should have known.
Velec and Turner! Why dont you keep your racing
on the track!
She slid back down while the two men jeered and
laughed. When the traffic began to move, they
darted around the MG a third time. Theyre really
77

asking for it! Brad noted. Were in two-way

traffic.
Let em cook their own goose, Nancy-Rae
snorted.
Soon she and Brad passed one of the military
police jeeps. Two men were waving the traffic
around a disabled vehicle.
Guess who just stuffed his black sports number
in a ditch? Nancy-Rae said cheerfully.
Brad smiled as he made his way around Velec
and Turners car. The front fender was crumpled
against a trash barrel.
Practice and qualifying sessions were hectic, but
the two teams were pleased with the positions they
earned on the unfamiliar course. On Saturday
Nancy-Rae started the Baby Grand race, again
eighth on the grid. The event had fewer laps than
Atlanta so a co-driver was not necessary. The
spunky girl, long known for her skill on a
motorcycle, brought the little Colt to a fifth-place
finish, earning the girls their first points in the series.
The following afternoon, Wynn had been elected
to drive, with Brad and Lonny manning the pit
squad. The girls sat in the timing stand Lonny had
rigged up with a sheet of plywood laid securely on
four oil drums. Nancy-Rae would keep lap times,
and Inky, a chart indicating their race position. Brad
in turn would give the blackboard signals to Wynn,
78

after getting the information from the girls.

The team checked over their pit procedure while
Wynn sat in the Datsun in fifth starting position. The
announcer asked onlookers repeatedly to clear the
grid area so the race could start. Before an opening
had been made in the milling crowd, The StarSpangled Banner began on the P.A. system. Wynn
climbed out and stood by his car.
You can hardly see him for all the people
around, Inky whispered. I hear they never had so
many visitors here for a GT race.
The spectators finally moved back, and the racers
were fired up to make the pace lap. The group
appeared in minutes on the pit straight. Wynn lined
up the Datsun. The girls watched the starter in his
tower. Nancy-Rae pushed the button on her watch as
soon as the flag dropped.
Theyre off! Brad yelled, jumping down from
his perch on the pit wall.
Wait a minute! Lonny exclaimed. They may
be off, but Wynns not. Good grief! He looks like he
has an anchor tied to his car!
The pack buzzed around helpless Wynn. When
the Datsun was in the clear, Brad lifted his
binoculars. Lonny, Look! His passenger doors
open. The safety pin must have fallen out!
Lonny took the field glass. No way. I put it in
myself. Somebody pulled it out when that crowd
79

was in the grid area!

What rotten luck!
No use talking about it, Nancy-Rae cried as she
jumped down from the stand. Weve got to find
another one, pronto!
Right, Lonny agreed. And drop it in when he
comes through the pits.
Inky searched through a box of spare nuts and
bolts. I think I saw one in here.
Nancy-Rae and the boys each took a different
box. Brad looked up at the track. We have about
ten seconds! he announced. The packs coming
over the hill.
Wynn was running dead last, his door opening
and closing on every turn. Several spectators behind
the pits were laughing and pointing at him.
Got it, Inky reported, handing the pin to Lonny,
who leaped over the wall just as Wynn roared into
the pits. Brad held the door shut while Lonny
dropped the pin into place. Then Brad banged on the
roof, signaling Wynn to rejoin the race.
He charged from the pits and began to chase the
pack, which was now into the long sweeping turn
under the spectator bridge. The girls climbed up to
their timing tower.
Lonny! Nancy-Rae screamed. Come here,
quick!
Lonny ran to her side. What is it?
80

Inkys new digital timer! I left it right here when

I jumped down to look for the pin. And now its
gone!

81

CHAPTER IX

Quartz-Light Assist

Oh no! Inky cried. That timer cost almost two

hundred dollars. My father gave it to me for
Christmas!
Lonny looked through the spare box and handed
Nancy-Rae an old stop watch. Here. Weve got a
race to run. Lets figure out whos sabotaging us
later.
Right, Nancy-Rae said, and climbed back to her
perch. She wound the watch and held it to her ear. It
worked. When Wynn passed, already up four
positions, she snapped the time. Got it, Lonny.
Inky quickly scratched down the order of the cars,
handing the information to Brad. The team was back
in operation!
In the interval between Wynns appearance on the
straight, Lonny and Brad discussed the harassment
they had encountered since they joined the IMSA
82

circuit.
Why? Lonny questioned. We arent even front
runners yet.
Thats true, Brad agreed. But we befriended
Harlan over Velec and theyre the front runners.
Lonny noticed that the two bitter rivals were
fighting for second position in the closely contested
race.
Maybe thats the problem, he said, shaking his
head. But it will be hard to prove.
While the battle raged at the front of the pack,
Wynn was picking off competitors at the rear, one
by one. Soon the announcer noticed his aggressive
drive and began to report his progress to the fans. It
was possible for him to finish in the money. Inky
kept on the run, showing Wynn the blackboard
report of each gain in position. Wynn had moved
from an out-of-contention thirty-second position to
eighth over-all.
Hey, look! Brad called, pointing to turn eight,
which was in clear view from the pit area. Velec
has it crossed up. He tried to push Harlan off the
pavement and get him before nine. He did! Harlan
let him around!
To save his fender, Lonny said squarely. The
two boys stood on barrels for a clear view of turn
nine, the last one before the straight. Velecs trying
to block Harlan from passing in nine and getting the
83

fast shot down the pit straight. Hes crossed up

again. Oh brother!
Velecs racer snapped sideways, scattering the
hay bales and tires that were stacked to protect the
cars from the steel guardrail. Harlan tried to duck
below him, but he was already too close. He spun on
the inside and his front wheels climbed one of the
stray tires. Both racers stalled sideways and blocked
the track!
Red flag! Lonny cried. The alert corner worker
on turn eight had realized the gravity of the situation
and waved the warning flag. Four of the front
runners had been involved in the scrape, driving into
the out-of-control cars. Luckily Wynn was far
enough behind to stop when he saw the signal.
Lonny wiped his brow as the yellow-and-orange
Datsun braked safely to a halt.
Course wreckers and ambulances rushed to the
scene. Spectators crowded around the fence to get a
better view. Inky had made a quick rundown of the
cars and their positions before the red flag was
displayed.
Whats the procedure now? Brad asked. Ive
never actually seen this happen, a whole race
screech to a halt.
A restart, Inky explained. The rules say that
they will clear the blocked track and send the pace
car out for a restart.
84

Where will Wynn be?

Fifth, she said, if Velec and Harlan leave the
course on the wreckers hook.
They are, Nancy-Rae reported. And only
seven laps to go. Cross your fingers!
After the restart, Wynns driving seemed much
more conservative as he moved up one more
position.
The track is slippery because of the accident,
Lonny reasoned. You can see from here how
difficult it is to get traction in turn nine on the
spilled water and oil. Wynns driving a smart race.
We need those points, and he has to finish to get
them.
The checkered flag dropped with Wynn taking
fourth place. He returned to the pits to confront his
jubilant crew. As he climbed from the car and took
off his helmet, he had a puzzled look on his face.
What happened? he asked. He had been too far
back to see the pileup caused by Velec.
The girls laughed and filled him in.
Good race, Wynn, a competitor called from his
car as he drove into the pits. Saw your door fly
open on the first lap and figured you had a secret
new weapon to keep us from passing you!
Boy, did I feel like a fish out of water when that
happened, Wynn replied. The pin was stolen
during The Star-Spangled Banner. I remember
85

checking it myself before we lined up on the grid.

So it was stolen. Lonny sighed.
And thats not all, Inky moaned. Your super
timer is going back to covered-wagon days. When
we were looking for another door pin, somebody
lifted my digital clock.
Oh, no!
At that moment Harlan walked into their pits.
Nice run, Wynn.
Thanks. Heard you were caught in the soup.
Yeah. Our friend got over his head, and I made
the mistake of having a front-row seat. Itll take
some work but I can get the car repaired by the next
outing at Ontario. But why the long faces? You
should be celebrating!
Inky related the bad news. Harlan was
sympathetic. Tell you what, girls. I bought one of
those gadgets myself after I saw yours at Atlanta.
And since I havent got a crew to operate it, why
dont you use mine until yours can be recovered?
Inky was overjoyed. Ill take extra special good
care of it!
I know you will, Harlan replied. Besides, I
your friendship with me might be the reason why it
disappeared in the first place.
Seems hes come to the same conclusion we
have, Wynn remarked as Harlan left.
The third race on the IMSA circuit was held in
86

Ontario, California, near Los Angeles. When they

arrived in the city, they called on D. A. Crawford,
their old friend and one-time boss from their
Mexicali 1000 racing days. His immaculate shop
was busy as ever, and his young son Teddy had
grown a foot taller.
Hey, great to see you! Teddy yelled, and father
grinned with pleasure as he shook hands all around.
Lets see if the place has changed any, Wynn
said.
Ill be glad to give you a tour, Crawford
replied. But first Ill let you look at all the new
trophies we got!
Brad was impressed with the collection. Wow,
he said. Three of them are from Ascot Park! Brad
knew Ascot Park was the highly competitive sprint
track that Mr. Crawfords entrants frequented.
Crawford nodded. Around here the future Indy
winners get their feet wet running the sprinters. We
have a new one under construction right now. Come
on, Ill show you.
He took them into the shop. The racer was being
strengthened in the chassis, and Crawford wanted to
experiment with a shorter wheel base for the dirttrack car. His explanation of the detailed drawings
his engineers had prepared was drowned out when
one of the engines was tested on the dynanometer.
When it was quiet again, he said, See this large
87

plate glass here? Its special safety glass to protect

the man working on the engine. Should the motor
blow, it will shield him from the shrapnel. You have
devices in an automobile to protect the driver from
his mishapscatter shields, special protective
panelsbut if the engine should fail here, it would
be like a giant hand grenade.
I know about those hand grenades, Inky
remarked. One went off in front of me in Atlanta,
the four-cylinder variety in the Baby Grand instead
of the V-eight you have here.
They gathered in Crawfords office for a soda
pop, and the boys told him about the Altagem
swindle. He had not been approached by the con
man yet, but promised to let them know if he was.
In fact, he said, lets set a trap for your swindler.
If he calls, Ill pretend Im interested and keep him
here while my secretary phones the police.
Good idea, Wynn said. Well keep in touch.
Why dont you stay with us while youre out
here? Crawford invited them. Weve got plenty of
room.
Oh, please do, Teddy added. And when we
nail your thief, we can all celebrate together!
The boys thanked their hosts and accepted. Two
days later, the crook entered Crawfords shop with
his stolen product; when he walked out, the police
were waiting for him. He was taken to headquarters
88

and booked.
When the young people looked at his
photographs, one thing was evident. The man was
not Bill Flynn. And he was not talking, either.
Jeff was happy about the arrest and wished them
luck for the Ontario race.
On Friday afternoon the girls qualified, and they
set the evening aside for practice. A portion of the
Baby Grand contest on Saturday evening would be
run after dark, from five to eight. Lonny and Brad
had rigged up a set of special quartz-iodine driving
lights to give Inky and Nancy-Rae extra visibility in
the crucial hours after darkness.
The plan worked. Inky was running eighth when
she turned the driving over to Nancy-Rae. The sun
was setting behind the giant facility, the orange ball
dropping into the Pacific Ocean. Ontario was
blanketed in smog, and the air burned the eyes of the
crew members as they looked into the wind.
Nancy-Rae scrambled into the driving seat while
Lonny uncovered the lights. They had been taped to
protect them until they were needed.
The sun will blind you as you come onto the
back of the course, but its going down fast, Inky
said. Watch Number forty-five. Hes a squirrel.
She banged the roof, and the redhead roared out
of the pits. It had been a good stop. She had lost
only one position and there were three drivers ahead
89

of her who had not yet gone in for fuel.

Soon headlights began to flash down the straight.
Brad struggled with the lap chart until Inky offered
to help, calling out the numbers which were
practically lost in darkness as the cars whizzed by.
I checked times on the competition ahead of
her, Wynn said, and theyre slowing three seconds
a lap since it got dark. He snapped Harlans digital
watch and the green dial glowed brightly. NancyRae has gone down less than a second and a half!
Those lights must be doing the trick! Inky said.
Forty-five minutes to go!
Brad fingered his slide rule. Barring a mishap,
she can do it.
Soon the facility was in complete darkness except
for the pit lights and the spots from the giant track
building that loomed over the grandstands. Only
three minutes were left, and Nancy-Rae was
catching the first-place car.
He doesnt know shes coming, Wynn said.
Look, Lonny called, the crew cant get his
attention. They didnt bring a lantern like Brad did.
Brad wrote a large GO on the board, illuminating it
as the charging redhead passed.
On the next-to-the-last lap, Nancy-Rae slipped
around the first-place car, opening a two-second
lead on the unsuspecting driver before he realized
who had passed him. He tried desperately to regain
90

the lost ground, but it was of no use. The Colts

clear beams lighted the road ahead to the checkered
flag.
She won! Good grief, she won! Inky shouted,
dumping over her timing table.
After a dinner to celebrate their victory, the
exhausted racers retired. Well have to see if we
cant do half as well as you did, Wynn said before
crawling into his tent. Bud will be mighty proud of
you, kid!
The GT race started under windy skies. The Hag
poles were hissing and cracking.
Boy, Lonny said, this wind makes Atlanta
look like a little breeze.
The pit crew bundled in coats as the race got
underway. Southern California felt very unsouthern.
Again smog blanketed the track, curtailing visibility.
Newspapers and scraps tumbled in the wind.
Wynn started the race and moved into a strong
fifth-place position. The cars imperfect handling
was evident on the tight Ontario track. It kept him
from gaining, but he appeared to be able to hold off
the sixth-place contestant. It was agreed they would
go without a driver change if he felt no fatigue, to
save time in the pits. Wynn was running alone in
fifth while the first four cars ran in a cluster, battling
for the number-one spot.
All we can hope for, Lonny observed, is an
91

error in that front bunch that slows them all enough

for Wynn to close the gap.
Four laps from the end the miracle happened. But
again it spelled bad luck for Harlan, who was in the
lead, holding off the second-place Nick Velec. One
of the flying newspapers had sealed itself across his
windshield, and he was blinded! He dropped a
wheel, which threw him sideways in the track. The
rest of the group screeched to a stop until the
Porsche was recovered and the newspaper blew on
its way across the infield.
The announcer was babbling with excitement.
While the leader was trapped under the L. A. Times
Want Ads, he shouted, fifth-place Wynn Redford
sneaked around the front runners into first position.
Though the fast former leading group are gaining on
him, he is going to take the checkered!
When Wynn crossed the line, his crew went wild.
Brad dived, catching Inkys timing stand before it
fell over again. They galloped to the winners circle,
hugging the confused and overjoyed Wynn as he
climbed from the car.
Im going to turn around and see my racer
change into a pumpkin, he joked. Like magic!
The cars were rolled to the inspection area for the
official check before anyone was allowed to touch
them. After thirty minutes of photographs and
champagne, a familiar face appeared in victory
92

circle.
It was Bill Flynn. He seemed surprisingly glum.
May we see the chief mechanic and driver of the
first-place car?
Sure, Wynn said, and he and Lonny followed
Flynn to the tech tent, where they saw their bug-andoil spattered Datsun resting on the inspection scales.
Lonny rushed over to look at the reading. Max
Turner was standing beside him, with his arms
crossed and a satisfied smile on his lips.
Didnt think we were wise to you cheaters, did
you? he snarled. Youre fifty pounds
underweight!
Bill Flynn added, Thats correct, boys. Rules are
rules. You are hereby disqualified. The win will be
given to the second-place finisher, Max Turner!

93

CHAPTER X

Skid-Pad Magic

But thats impossible! Lonny argued. We

checked the weight very carefully before we came
and we were right on the minimum. We used
government approved scales
No use arguing, Bill Flynn said sharply,
walking away. The scales dont lie. Or cheat.
Wynn and Lonny rolled the rejected car out of the
tent. There were frowns and jeers from all sides. As
they reached the exit, they heard the public address
system announce Turner as the winner. All
competitors would be moved up one position. The
Altadyne-Ignitions entry was disqualified for
weight irregularity.
I never figured you guys to be cheaters,
someone called out. Whats the matter with you,
thinking you could get away with that?
Whats a weight irregularity? another asked.
94

What kind of dirty trick did you pull?

Lonny ignored the remarks, but his face was
flushed. I think someone pulled a dirty trick on us,
Wynn. I cant believe that truck-stop scale was off
that much. Or maybe Velec and Turner tampered
with the official scales?
If they had, more than one car would have been
underweight, Wynn reasoned.
When Brad and the girls met them on the run,
they explained what had happened. Ive about had
it with this circuit, Brad, Lonny said earnestly. We
have had nothing but troublebig troublesince
the season opened.
Lonnys right, Wynn agreed. I think we
should make a quick check of the points and see if
there is any chance of our making a decent finish,
then give some serious thought to selling the car and
dropping out. Its not handling right anyway.
Dropping out! Brad exclaimed. Ive made
arrangements for a skid-pad test tomorrow to sort
out the handling once and for all. Lets not throw the
cards on the table yet!
They decided to discuss it over dinner in the
California farming country. They ate abalone and
prawns from the Pacific, then strolled on the
boardwalk to watch the freckled seals show their
swimming talent. Finally they returned to the
parking lot to retrieve their vehicles and head back
95

to Crawfords place.
Oh, no! Wynn cried when he walked around
the dune buggy. Beetle Bomb has a flat!
Lonny mumbled something and went to the
buggys hatch for the jack. Hey! he called out
suddenly. Come here a minute!
Everyone crowded around him. Whats the
matter? Wynn asked.
Lonny lifted up the spare tire. I found the dirty
trick, see? The weight I had inserted under the
Datsun was removed and put under the buggys
spare!
Good grief! Wynn said. It probably happened
while we were asleep in our tents!
Brad nodded. And theres nothing we can do
about it now. It really burns me up.
Lonny felt enveloped by fatigue. Well, lets get
this show on the road again, he said wearily. For
what its worth.
While the boys were replacing the flat tire, a car
drove up beside them. Can I give you a hand with
something, or do you have matters under control?
the driver asked.
Thanks, but weve got it. Hey, arent you the
guy who was running with Harlan and Velec?
Lonny asked, glancing at the Corvette on the mans
trailer.
Thats right. The one who inherited fourth place
96

after you dropped out. I never did hear what they

nailed you on. He climbed from hill pickup and
was followed by his teen-age son, whom he
introduced as Mark.
Brad led them to the trunk of Beetle Bomb,
showing them the misplaced weight that had been!
removed from their racer.
The veteran driver shook his head. I hate to see
this. Ive seen it before. Dont let it get you down.
These people fall in their own stew sooner or later.
Its just too high keyed a business for this sort of
thing not to run its course.
To tell the truth, Lonny said, straightening his
tired back after tightening the last lug nut, weve
just about had it with this kind of bad play.
Come on, now. Dont let them get to you. Thats
what they want, after all. The culprit wouldnt go to
all this trouble if he wasnt afraid of your racing
talent. You two are the best young drivers to come
along in quite a while. Id hate to see the series lose
you. Mark roots harder for you guys than he does for
his old man! He slapped his grinning youngster on
the back.
The boys thanked him for his encouragement
before he went on his way.
I feel better already, Lonny admitted, wiping
his dirty hands on a rag. Lets hit the skid pad first
thing in the morning.
97

They arrived at Crawfords house late that night.

The girls were going into the city next day for some
TV promotion following their Ontario victory,
which they hoped would net them sponsorship
money from a sportswear concern. The boys
planned to clean up the race car and head for the
skid pad.
They arrived at the place Brad had spoken of. It
was a large paved area with plenty of room to make
mistakes in without colliding with a stationary
object. The car could be pushed to the limits of
adhesion, skid, or even spin out.
This is often used to test street cars to see if they
can pass the collision tests, Brad explained.
Behind those buildings is the graveyard for cars
that were sacrificed to Federal Safety Standards.
I read about that, Lonny said. Theyre driven
by remote control, with a dummy at the wheel, into
a specially constructed barrier. Then the extent of
the damage and the possibility of human injury is
evaluated.
Right. Once we came on a field trip from Cal
Tech to watch the tests.
The boys unloaded the race car, and Lonny
prepared to warm the engine. It coughed and
sputtered to life when he pressed the starter.
It seems to have gotten cold overnight, he
observed.
98

Wynn put on his helmet and suit. It was a hot day

so he stood in the shade until the car was ready, the
nonporous flame suit becoming uncomfortable. His
work today would be routine, for the drivers skill
made little difference on the skid pad. This was a
test of the Datsuns performance.
While Lonny operated the stopwatch, keeping
careful charts, Wynn drove the car, making ten
revolutions to the left and ten to the right, moving in
a giant circle in a marked area of pavement. Brad
dropped to his knees, sighting the car when it leaned
into the turns and clicking off a series of Polaroid
snapshots.
Then Lonny signaled Wynn to come in. They
took rubber temperatures with a probe and gauge to
measure heat build-up in the center and on both
sides of the wide racing tire. Then they hunkered in
the shade of a eucalyptus tree to evaluate their
results.
Brad taped the snapshots to his clipboard,
drawing angles on them with a ruler to indicate the
amount of body roll.
You see, he explained, when the car is placed
in a tight cornering situation, the body leans sharply.
We need to make suspension adjustments to prevent
this. He pointed to the rear wheel. The contact
patch is losing part of its grip on the ground. The
wheel is following the body into the air, when it
99

should adhere to the track.

Lonny frowned. In other words, the tire is
leaning, too. It picks up a foot, and leaves the car
unbalanced.
Exactly. A tight-rope walker with one foot in the
air. The camera caught the car in that split second
that the human eye could not register. If were going
to get all the engines power to the ground in the
corners, well have to keep the tires down!
So tell me where to make the incision, doctor,
Lonny joked.
They walked to the Datsun and carefully
calculated suspension adjustments. Brad recorded
each change in his notebook for future reference.
The in-and-out process was repeated again and
again, Wynn running ten revolutions in each
direction until he saw tenths of a second drop from
his time. This is more encouraging than you
realize, Wynn, Brad said. A tenth of a second is a
large percentage when your entire revolution only
takes ten.
I see what you mean. On a two-minute track that
is more than a second a lap. That would have put me
on the pole at Laguna.
That evening, the boys showed Crawford their
results. Brad taped the photos to a drawing board he
had set up, making careful notations of the series of
angles.
100

Why dont we leave Einstein at work and go

have a pop? the man suggested.
Good idea, Lonny said. Im thirsty.
They were in the kitchen, dropping ice cubes into
glasses, when Brad started to shout.
I think he just discovered the law of gravity,
Wynn remarked. They went back to the study,
setting the soft drinks beside the young engineer. He
was poring over the snapshots with a magnifying
glass. Now Ive really discovered something
important. Only it wont make the car go any
faster.
That we dont need, Wynn said, and he took the
glass.
Look very carefully, Brad said, by the railroad
cars in the distance.
Good grief, Wynn exclaimed, handing the glass
to Lonny. We were spied upon. That figure is in
every shot!
Right, Lonny noticed. And its Bill Flynn!
But why was he watching us? Brad asked. Do
you think he removed the weight from our car and
then declared us illegal?
I doubt it, Lonny said. Unless he was bribed
by the competition!
Early the next morning, they left for Ontario to
conduct some tests. The IMSA association had
rented the track for members to sort out their cars
101

before the long trip east to the Mid-Ohio Track for

the next event. The boys were eager to compare
their new lap times with those they posted on the
race weekend to see what improvements their skidpad work had made.
To their distress the track was crowded. Turner
and Velec were both running hot laps in their race
cars. Lonny walked up, expecting more jeers about
the Ontario incident. Velecs remark caught him off
guard. So you got down to 10.2 on the skid pad.
And 10.6 for the left handers.
Good work, Turner added. I think you should
have put a heavier sway bar on all along but then
you didnt ask for my advice.
Lonny stopped short. Just how did you get that
choice bit of information? he asked them.
Oh, a little birdie told us, Turner teased.
Well, Ive about had it with a certain parrot I
know and his magpie friend, Lonny retorted,
growing angry. Velec, noticing the stocky boys
rage, backed up, leaving Turner to face him.
But Wynn pulled Lonny away. Ignore them.
Theyre just needling you.
The friends returned to the Datsun, but Lonnys
anger had not subsided. As they walked toward their
pits, they met Brad, who was frantic.
I went to the parking lot because I forgot my
clipboard in the car
102

And someone stole your clipboard? Lonny

interrupted. Thats how they knew the changes
Not just the clipboard! The car is gone!

103

CHAPTER XI

A Sick MG

Maybe you parked it in another section and just got

confused, Wynn said. Its a big place.
The five friends decided to comb the parking lot.
Each covered a different area. Brad was positive he
had not forgotten where he had left the car. He
stopped at the race tower, where he called the local
police, giving the tag number and a description of
the easy-to-spot automobile.
When he left the tower, he met Nancy-Rae and
Inky. Brad, I think we have a lead, Nancy-Rae
said. The guys have gone to get Beetle Bomb, to
speed the search. We talked to some Mexican boys.
Their parents saw the car being driven through one
of the farms over there! She pointed east.
Inky added, One kid said his mother is furious
because it ran over one of her best laying hens.
Someone must have hot wired it to start it up.
104

Ive got the keys in my pocket! Brad said.

Wynn and Lonny drove up in Beetle Bomb.
Lets go to the farm, Wynn called, and the three
piled in the dune buggy to begin their search of the
vineyard area. They drove up and down the narrow
lanes, checking rows of twisted grape plants to see if
the car had been stashed between them. There were
clusters of vehicles at each vineyard, but they were
pick-up trucks and old cars belonging to the
workers.
They passed an ancient monastery, abandoned
now but once occupied by an order of monks who
were famous for their wines. After parking in front,
they searched around the vine-covered stucco
building. One end of it was cracked from top to
bottom, and birds flew in and out of the open
windows. Inky walked behind the structure and
spotted a lily pond. Frogs splashed into the water as
she approached and stayed hidden when the girl
screamed loudly. The other four came running.
Oh, no! Brad cried, wringing his hands in
desperation. Who would do a thing like that! Its
ruined!
The beautiful green MG was submerged in the
pond, with only the convertible top visible above the
surface.
Maybe not, Lonny said. If we can get it out of
there fast.
105

The boys took off their shoes and waded into the
pond. There arent any water snakes in California,
are there? Wynn joked lamely.
No, Inky said. The snakes we have to deal
with operate on land.
The car was rolled to dry ground, and the
shivering boys stood in a patch of sunlight,
surveying the damage. The body had not been
dented. Water poured from the inside when they
opened the doors. Brad pulled his wet clipboard
from under the seat and spread the pages out to dry
while the girls began to pull off the lily pads. Water
and slime were everywhere!
Lonny took Beetle Bombs tow bar out and
hooked up the disabled car.
You know what I think, Brad said, obviously
unable to shake his depression even though the car
had been located.
I know, Lonny answered. Rust. We have to
get it dried out as soon as possible.
Rust was the greatest threat to cars being
carefully restored to resist time. Hidden water could
eat away the metal and ruin the structure forever.
Mr. Crawfordll help us out, Inky said. Try not
to worry, Brad.
When they arrived at Crawfords garage, he
directed them to the nearest steam-cleaning facility.
A friend of his steamed the little car inside and out.
106

Then Crawford had it placed in his paint booth,

turning on the lights and heat lamps so the
upholstery and engine would dry throughout. It
might even come out good as new, he said. Youll
find out soon enough.
Once the car was dry, Crawford was thanked
profusely for his help and hospitality. Then the
young people said good-by and prepared for the
long ride back to North Carolina. The next race, at
Mid-Ohio, was far enough in the future to give them
time to further improve their racers.
While heading across the Mojave Desert, Brads
car began to overheat. It could be driven only a few
miles before a stop for water and cooling down was
needed.
Must have done something to the engine in the
dunking, Lonny observed, that we couldnt detect
from the surface. I think we may have to take the
motor down before we make it back home.
In the cooler weather of Arizona, the temperature
ran at a more operative level, but the can was still
not functioning properly. The engine missed
regularly and the MG was barely able to climb the
steep hills near Flagstaff.
As they reached New Mexico, Inky observed that
the sky had a strange pinkish tint, and dust appeared
to be collecting in the air. Soon they passed a large
group of tractor trailers parked beside the highway.
107

Lonny pulled over to find out what the trouble was.

Sandstorm on the way, one of the drivers
answered. Try to find a low place to stop or pull
your vehicles beside the trucks here for cover.
How about that farmyard over there, Wynn
said, pointing. He was afraid the storm might turn
the trucks over on their smaller vehicles.
Right. Lonny headed toward the farm. Follow,
explanation later, he shouted to the girls and Brad.
They pulled into the farmers yard and parked
behind a barn. A man on a tractor was in the middle
of a large field. Suddenly he jumped from the
machine and began to run. Leaping the rows with
large strides, he reached the barn and shouted
breathlessly, Get inside! They rushed in and
huddled. Stay away from the window, he
instructed.
In seconds the storm hit, peppering the barn with
sand that sounded like thousands of BB shots. I
think the building will block your cars, the farmer
said. This could sandblast your paint job right
down to the bare metal.
Brad groaned and tried to peer out the window to
see if the MG was in the path of the whirling sand.
In a few minutes it grew quiet again. The farmer
stuck his head out and beckoned for them to follow.
The air was thick and dusty, and sand filled every
crease and hollow. But a quick check revealed that
108

the race cars and tow vehicles were not damaged.

Oh my gosh, done blowed my gate open, the
farmer shouted and ran after a herd of about twentyfive small black-and-white pigs. As he chased the
frightened animals, they scattered farther.
Hold on, Lonny called out. Well give you a
hand.
The boys and girls ran into the fields, making a
circle around the squealing pigs. Now close in
gradually and dont let any of them slip by you or
the whole bunch will take off after it, Lonny called.
The North Carolina farm boy was familiar with the
ways of animals.
At that moment, a tiny black and white piglet shot
by Brad. He dived for the charging little rascal, but
it shot from his grip as if it were greased.
Wynn jumped into its path, turning it back to the
group with a shout. Soon the pigs filed through the
gate. Just before the farmer latched it, however, a
mischievous piglet ran off in the direction of the MG
and jumped in the open door. Brad raced over,
closed the door, and trapped the animal inside. Got
you!
By now the girls were laughing hysterically. Inky
looked through the MGs side curtain, and sputtered,
Excuse me, young man, may I see your drivers
license? I have a report that youre a road hog!
The farmer opened the door, gathering up the
109

squirming piglet, and tossed the animal over the

fence with the rest of his herd. Boy, am I glad you
kids came by when you did. I might have had pigs
halfway across Colorado. Can I repay you in any
way? Shelter for the night?
Wynn looked thoughtful. You know, actually
you could help us. If you would put us up for about
a day, we could go through Brads engine and fix it
once and for all.
Sure. You can use my tractor shelter. It has
electricity and a workbench.
The boys thanked the farmer and went right to
work. As Lonny began to disassemble the engine,
the trouble became evident. The carburetors had
been filled with water, and many of the small
moving metal parts had rusted. Inky and Nancy-Rae
sanded each piece carefully with fine wet sandpaper
while Lonny checked the motor thoroughly. By the
next morning it was reassembled and purring
smoothly.
They thanked the farmer and started on their way,
arriving in Clayborne three days later. While the
girls told the enthusiastic Bud about their victory,
the boys hurried over to Newgate to talk to Jeff
about the capture of the Altagem thief.
Since we didnt bring home any first-place
trophies, at least we have a good report on the Los
Angeles swindler, Lonny said. But when they
110

arrived in Kuralts office, bad news awaited them.

Your friend Crawford just phoned, Jeff said.
The crook gave the L. A. police the slip. He
skipped bail before sentencing.
Wynn moaned. Now well have to start all over
again!
Worse yet, some more units have been stolen
from the lab. I had locks put in and gave the keys to
the employees who need to use the room, Jeff
related. Then my own key was stolen from my coat
pocket in the office. That eliminates those who had
keys. By the time I took another inventory, two
more units were gone. You can imagine my
frustration. The crooks have somebody right inside
my place!
That evening, Lonny phoned the girls, telling
them of the recent developments. Inky had an idea.
Check the resume of every worker in Jeffs factory
to see if theres a California connection. This is
definitely not a one-man operation.
Good idea, Lonny agreed. Jeff investigated, and
with the help of the police found out that one of his
shipping clerks had a drug conviction in California.
He had been hired only three months before, and
made constant delivery trips to Jeffs office.
He could have taken the key when I stepped out
of the room for a moment, Jeff declared. Lets try
to set a trap for him.
111

Their plan worked. Inky posed as a secretary and

watched. The clerk was nabbed red handed, filling
his boxes with Altagems instead of the electrical
products he claimed to be preparing for an order.
Jeff gratefully thanked the girl. At least weve
gotten future samples out of the crooks hands!
The caravan set out again in the latter part of
June, this time for the Mid-Ohio event. This track,
located near Mansfield in rolling farm country, was
one of the most challenging road courses on the
schedule. The race ran five hours for the Baby
Grand cars as well as the larger GTs. The former
would compete late Saturday, and the GTs on
Sunday.
The girls race was a disappointment, with Inky
pulling in after the pace lap and shutting down the
engine. No oil pressure, she said glumly. No use
destroying an engine to run for five minutes.
Nancy-Rae agreed. They rolled the car to the
trailer, planning to go through the motor thoroughly
before the next outing.
Inky took Brads clipboard and began to figure
out how much fuel would be needed for the GT race.
Because of sloshing during hard cornering and the
irregular construction of fuel tanks, it was
impractical to attempt to equip a race with a fuel
gauge. The consumption had to computed by filling
the tank, running a five-lap test, then refilling it and
112

measuring the amount of fuel needed to top it up

again.
Inky figured the number of laps the car would
travel in five hours. From that she determined when
to call the driver into the pits for a fuel stop. At that
time Lonny would pour cans of gas in the racer as
quickly as possible, while Brad changed the worn
tires.
On race day, Wynn was running second, behind
Velec. The latest tests on the skid pad had improved
handling significantly. Inky signaled Brad to give
Wynn the countdown for his last fuel stop. He ran
out with the impact wrench and fresh tires as Wynn
charged into the pits. Lonny flipped open the tank
lid and lifted the dump cans over the fuel cell at the
back of the car.
Twenty-four seconds, Inky called cheerfully
when Wynn returned to the track. Thats the fastest
stop all season. Lets see if Velec can top that!
Just then the announcer reported that Velec would
go the rest of the distance without a stop to assure
victory over Wynn Redford.
Inky! He cant! Brad exclaimed. Unless you
made a mistake? That Corvette couldnt go with less
fuel stops because his V-eight engine uses more than
the six-cylinder Datsun!
Inky frowned. She checked and rechecked her
calculations.
113

The checkered flag was out. Velec appeared over

the hill and the crowd cheered. Wynn was fifteen
seconds behind.
He won, Inky, Brad said. With one less fuel
stop!
He must be running on air! she declared. I
dont believe it. She called Nancy-Rae. Lets go to
victory circle.
You want to congratulate that guy? Nancy-Rae
said, surprised.
Not on your life!
The girls walked around the Corvette. Velec
grinned at them. So hows the pit popsies? he
jeered. Then he positioned himself beside the car for
photographers. When he swung the door open, Inky
noticed a strange hose going from it to the body,
concealed by hinges.
She walked quickly over to Bill Flynn, the
technical inspector, who was preparing to roll the
Corvette away for the check. Excuse me, but I
dont know a great deal about cars, Inky said
innocently. Could you explain to me why a hose
goes from the engine to the door?
Velec had walked to the front of the car and stood
with the wreath of roses. He was out of ear-shot.
Flynn opened the door and felt the hose. He shook
the door back and forth; it gurgled. By now a group
had gathered around, two of them officials.
114

Whats up, Bill?

Appears we have a liquid door, Flynn said,
pointing to the hose. When he disconnected it,
orange fluid ran out. Gasoline! Velec had an extra
fuel tank concealed inside the door!
By now the driver had noticed the disturbance.
He glared at the smiling Inky. The race chairman
was furious. This is blatant cheating and poor
sportsmanship! he shouted. You are hereby
disqualified, Mr. Velec!

115

CHAPTER XII

A Spy in the House?

The girls ran to the pits after the race chairman

spoke to Velec, dodging through the crowd that was
pushing toward the victory circle. They were elated
that Inkys fuel calculation had been correct after
all!
Wynn! Lonny! Inky called out. You won!
Hey, slow down. What happened? Brad asked.
You tell them, Nancy-Rae. Inky panted.
Velec was found illegal, the redhead attested.
He had fuel in the door!
Why, that sneaky cheater! Wynn shouted. No
wonder he didnt need to refuel.
The group hurried to the victory circle. Bill Flynn
met them at the entrance to the fenced area. Velecs
car had been removed and the race queen stood
alone on the platform, holding the wreath of roses
and winners medallion.
116

Bring your car over here, Flynn said flatly.

Youre now declared in first place. That is, unless
we find out you pulled another stunt like last time.
That wasnt very friendly, Lonny observed to
Wynn.
Who cares? Inky said. You won! Lets get the
Datsun up here! They rolled the car into the victory
circle, meeting the snarling Velec on the way. He
had just been rebuked by race officials for cheating.
Ill get you for this! he growled at the bouncing
Inky, as he rolled the Corvette past. Nick Velec
doesnt let some skinny dame rob him of a win.
Rob, phooey! Youre the thief, she retorted
fearlessly. Since when has a door full of extra gas
been the legitimate way to finish a race first?
Velec did not answer and moved on toward his
trailer, where his disgruntled crew was waiting for
the car.
Wynn was caught in a mob of fellow competitors,
congratulating him. He smiled for photographers as
the blond Miss Camel GT placed the medal around
his neck and awarded him the victory kiss.
Early next morning the crew loaded their gear
and started the long haul back to North Carolina. At
noon they pulled into a small truck stop in the heart
of the West Virginia mountains.
Flies buzzed overhead around an old-fashioned
fan and the air was filled with the odor of reused
117

grease.
Ugh, Brad whispered to Nancy-Rae, I think
Im losing my appetite. The girls agreed and, like
Brad, ordered grilled-cheese sandwiches and two
bags of chips. Wynn and Lonny asked for doubledecker hamburgers with lettuce and tomatoes,
double fries, and chocolate milkshakes.
They ate quickly and soon were back on their
way. Funny how these roads dont seem to be so
tiring on the way to a race, Wynn noted as the
trailer whipped precariously around the mountain
curves, but going home, they last forever. Would
you take over for a while, Lonny? I dont feel so
hot.
I was going to say the same thing, Lonny
grunted, clutching his midsection. My stomach acts
as if I swallowed the fan from that diner and its
stirring up a cyclone. Maybe one of the girls could
give us a hand.
The group stopped at an overlook, and Wynn
shakily climbed out of the car. Nancy-Rae met him.
We need some help, he mumbled.
I can see that. You look positively green around
the gills. She glanced at Lonny. Oh brother, you
too. What happened?
Must have been those poisonburgers we ate.
Would you drive Beetle Bomb for a while and let
Lonny rest in the Jeep with Inky?
118

Sure thing.
When they finally arrived in Newgate, Wynn and
Lonny crawled into bed, hoping to sleep away their
sickness. But the following morning they felt even
worse. Brad called a doctor, who examined them
and prescribed bed rest and medicine.
The effects of this food poisoning, he said,
could last several weeks. Plan to take it easy for a
while.
After he left, Brad drove to the Altadyne plant to
present their sponsor with the first-place award from
Mid-Ohio.
Wynn and Lonny got a case of food poisoning,
he told Jeff after he entered the office. So I came to
give you this!
Great work! Jeff said, as he took the bronze
medallion with a red, white, and blue ribbon. He
placed it in a glass case, then sat back and looked at
Brad seriously.
Youve been doing fine, he said. But I
havent. The irate calls have increased tenfold!
Even though there have been no new samples
leaving the factory?
Jeff nodded. The swindlers are working
overtime with what they have!
What have you heard from the police?
Theyve investigated the dealerships. All
reported men of varying descriptions. No one has
119

encountered a man with a foreign accent or greasy

hair.
Too bad. Well keep an eye out on our next
trip, Brad promised.
The week before Talladega, the scheduled test of
the Datsun was delayed. Wynn and Lonny were still
weak from the food poisoning. Because they had to
take medication, they agreed that Brad should drive
at Talladega.
After all, Lonny reasoned, you have a valid
license. You should get a chance to pilot the car
youve worked so hard to prepare.
And, Wynn added, a driver should never go
on the track while hes under any kind of medication
that might slow his reflexes and endanger him and
others.
Brad was eager. Ill try not to let you down, he
said. But listen, I think wed better take a spare
engine.
Thats right, Lonny agreed. Talladega is a
high-banked oval, and top speed without engine rest
has blown many racers.
The girls would leave early to do advance
publicity for their new sponsor, Lean-Girl Jeans.
Lonny would get a factory Datsun engine and tune
it. Then he and Wynn would take a plane to
Birmingham with their new power plant in the cargo
hull.
120

Brad met the girls in Talladega. They gazed at the

expanse of the facility with its banked oval and
spacious grandstands. This was the sister track to
Daytona International Speedway. All the famous
stars of Grand National stock-car racing had
appeared here on the high-speed oval. But this
weekend the sports-car drivers would use both the
oval and the complex road course that had been
added in the infield.
The three went to register Brad as the driver for
the race and to get their pit passes. Later that
evening they picked up Wynn, Lonny, and the spare
engine at Birmingham Airport. The two boys felt
much better, and quickly checked over the car in the
motel parking lot, since Jeff had vetoed camping
until they were completely recovered.
All looks shipshape to me, Lonny observed.
Ive tightened up anything that could have been
overlooked and double-checked our work. Well
hold the fresh engine until after qualifying and
decide if we need it for the race.
We want you to have a clear head for your
driving, Brad, Wynn added. Its been a while
since youve been in the cockpit.
Youre not kidding Hey, look! Quick!
Wynn and Lonny turned toward where Brad had
pointed but saw nothing.
Hes gone. But I saw a man watching us from
121

that window. He pulled the curtain just as I spoke.

That room is just above ours. A tall, thin man.
They walked into the lobby. Brad stopped at the
desk. Excuse me, miss, he said to the clerk, but I
was just introduced to the gentleman in room threeo-three. To save my life, I cant remember his name.
I was supposed to put it on a special form.
Room three-o-three? she repeated, looking
through the registrations. Yes, here it is. Mr. Bill
Flynn.
Bill Flynn, of course, Brad replied. Thank you
so much.
The girl smiled as the polite young man and his
friends rounded the corner to the elevator.
Oh, brother, Brad said with exasperation.
Soon well be seeing that character in our
dreamsor nightmares!
Maybe he thinks were close to putting the
finger on him, Wynn suggested, and hes hoping
to be one step ahead of us.
The next mornings qualifying went well, with
Brad posting a respectable time.
Not bad for a rusty driver, Lonny remarked,
looking at Inkys timing sheets. You should start
tenth on the grid, in the fifth row. Brad beamed.
On Saturday, race day for the Baby Grands, Inky
and Nancy-Rae bounded up in new driving suits,
Lean-Girl Jeans specials cut for them and made of
122

fireproof denim. Wynn whistled loudly as they

modeled their handsome outfits. They had qualified
in the third row and had spent the morning posing
for pictures for their sponsors.
Inky, who had elected to start the race with
Nancy-Rae ready to relieve her at the halfway point,
got a good jump on the start and moved into fourth.
The Colt maintained a steady pace, moving into
third when the second-place BMW slid off into the
grass with a blown engine.
When she pulled in for her pit stop, Nancy-Rae
was ready, her hair tucked into a fireproof head sock
under her helmet. Inky scrambled out the window as
the boys serviced the car. Its running like a
charm, she yelled, and buckled up her teammate.
Hold it at seventy-five hundred and let those
rabbits extinct themselves. She banged on the roof
as Brad signaled he was through with the tire check.
Nancy-Rae popped the clutch and sped out of the
pits.
Inky pulled her helmet off and shook her sweatsoaked hair loose. Its like an oven in there, she
gasped as Brad handed her a jug of Gatorade. But
the car has never run better. I just dont have the
horsepower that those two Gremlins
We noticed, Lonny broke in. They were
pulling you badly on the oval but you seemed to
close it up in the infield.
123

Just then a cloud of smoke enveloped the redwhite-and-blue Gremlin in second place. It coasted
to a stop. When Nancy-Rae came around, Brad ran
to the apron to signal that she had inherited second.
On the next lap, he put up a -37, indicating she was
that many seconds behind the car in front of her.
Too far back to catch up.
Thats a good signal, Inky remarked. Now
shell conserve the engine and not waste it trying to
get him.
The lead Gremlin continued to run flawlessly and
on the last lap, hope had run out that he would fail.
As he took the flag, the group anxiously waited the
thirty seconds it took for Nancy-Rae to make it to
the finish line. The green Colt appeared, easily
coasting over the line in second place, the Lean-Girl
Jeans slogan flashing in the bright Alabama
sunlight. Their pits were instantly flooded with wellwishers from the factory office who had traveled
from Atlanta to watch the girls race.
After a short celebration, the boys retired early,
since their warm-up was scheduled at eight oclock
Sunday morning. Brad had instructed Lonny to
leave the old engine in the car, feeling it had plenty
of power. The girls planned to sleep late and be at
their timing post by one oclock, when the flag
would drop for the GT race.
It was only two hours long, so Brad would drive
124

all the way if the heat did not prove to be a problem.

Wynn warmed the car in the morning session to see
whether he felt well enough to take over if his friend
needed relief. He was only half a second off the pole
time set by Philip Harlan.
Good enough, Lonny said. Suit up and be
ready if Brad wants to bail out at half time.
At the start Brad moved from his fifth row
position into eighth as the cars rolled into turn one.
He drove steadily but seemed to falter when the
backmarkers began to be lapped. Thats where the
lack of experience shows. Lonny frowned. When
hes under pressure, trying to move through heavy
traffic.
Nancy-Rae reported Brads irregular lap times
until he made it through the crowd. Then he settled
down and began to circulate at a steady pace. Hes
in the groove now, she reported. Lost a position in
the traffic, now running ninth.
Lonny moved out with the board, giving him the
last countdown for the pit stop.
As Brad screamed in and slid to a stop, Wynn
was ready. Brad buckled him up, quickly giving him
instructions while Nancy-Rae washed the
windshield. Then Wynn roared from the pits.
Suddenly there was a lot of commotion. Velecs
car came out after refueling. But something was
wrong. His crew followed him on foot and one of
125

the officials jumped into the lane, signaling him to

halt. When the angry driver finally slowed, Brad and
Lonny saw the problem. Someone had gotten the
signals crossed, and Velec had started out to rejoin
the race with the fuel can still connected to the car!
He screeched to a stop in their pits, his crew still
far down the lane. Hold it a second, Brad called,
and ran to the drivers aid. The cans still full of
gas!
He grasped it and tugged. Velec, who had seen
Harlan pass him in the pits, spun his wheels and left.
The can disconnected in Brads hands, and he fell
backward. Orange-colored liquid poured across his
chest, and he screamed in agony as it soaked
through his driving suit!

126

CHAPTER XIII

The Pogo Stick Principle

Lonny was the first to reach Brad, pulling him to

safety by the pit wall. Nancy-Rae jumped down
from the timing stand.
Undo the top of his suit, she cried while Brad
writhed in pain. Lonny quickly opened the high neck
and unzipped Brads outfit. Nancy-Rae snatched up
a container of radiator water and poured the cool
contents over his inflamed skin, washing away the
gasoline. Soon he had regained his composure and
sat up on his own power. She led him to the track
water hose, where she drenched his suit while Lonny
ran for the medic to see if Brad needed further help.
When the race doctor arrived, Brad was holding a
towel filled with ice cubes against his flushed chest.
The doctor praised the crew for its quick action,
which saved the young driver from skin damage.
Good way to cool off in this Alabama heat,
127

Brad said cheerfully as the doctor examined him for

burns.
You didnt have to go to that much trouble to get
a bucket of water dumped on you, Nancy-Rae
joked. All you had to do was ask.
The doctor said, I once saw a well-known driver
shed his entire outfit right in front of the spectators
after his crew had inadvertently poured fuel in the
cockpit on his open car during a pit stop. Id file a
reprimand against the driver who did this. Seems
weve had an inordinate amount of trouble with
Nick Velec lately, trouble that wouldnt be tolerated
if he werent a front runner!
One of the race officials approached. Heres the
fellow to make the report to, the doctor said.
No need, the man replied. I had ordered Velec
to stop. He had no authority to proceed until I gave
him permission. Consider the report filed.
Cant you blackflag him out of the race?
Nancy-Rae asked.
I could, but hes running second, and there
might be trouble with the fans. Well let the board
decide.
When Brad and Nancy-Rae returned to their pits,
Inky reported that Wynn was running seventh and
gaining on the sixth-place car.
And Velec? Brad questioned.
Still second, she said sadly. Thats a super-fast
128

car he has. But Harlan will take the victory.

By the time the checkered flag fell, Wynn had
moved into fifth but was still far behind Velec, who
came in second after Harlan. In the victory circle,
when Velec was confronted by officials, he acted
surprised. What gas can? I havent spoken with my
crew yet. I didnt know about the problem with the
gas can.
Brad and his friends walked away. Fat chance of
that being the truth, he said. But it looks like hes
got the officials snowed.
The crew headed back to North Carolina, making
plans on the way for a race-track test session of the
Datsun before Daytona. At Daytona they would run
the Paul Revere 250, a race that began at midnight.
Since he had had a chance behind the wheel, Brad
felt he could improve the cars handling again.
Lonnys engines, he felt, were putting out as much
horsepower as could be safely expected from the
small cars power plant. They had to get the edge on
the bigger-engined cars by tuning the suspension.
Surely the Datsun was more agile than the Corvette,
Brad suggested, but it appeared that the Chevy was
outcornering the Japanese sports car.
Back at Newgate Brad studied a map of the
Eastern United States, looking for a convenient track
for testing. Ive got it, he said finally.
Which one, doctor? Wynn kidded.
129

Savannah.
Savannah! Lonny exclaimed. IMSA doesnt
even run there. That track has been poorly
maintained for some time now, and is only used for
a few races a year.
Precisely.
Noting Brads confidence in his choice, Wynn
and Lonny decided not to question his idea.
They arrived at the Savannah, Georgia, facility
four days before the Daytona track would open for
practice. Wynn took the car out for some warm-up
laps, while Brad and Lonny unloaded the spares in
the pits. Wynn returned sooner than they expected.
You really picked a good one, he said
grumpily. The car bounces all over the place out
there. There are potholes in this track big enough to
fall in, and the backside looks as if a herd of giant
moles crawled under it!
Well, its better than nothing, Brad said
apologetically, but he appeared to be smiling
slightly. When Wynn returned to the track, Lonny
took lap times. Wynn was familiar with the course
because he had raced his Formula Vee here during
his campaign for the National Championship.
He soon came back to check on his times. The
boys spread out an official results sheet from the last
national race, which Brad had luckily found
discarded in the track tower.
130

This will show us how fast they were going the

last time, Brad said. It was only two weeks ago, so
the conditions must have been the same.
And were creeping by comparison! Wynn
exclaimed. Look at that. Slower than the CProduction time. We should be running A- and BProduction times and were four seconds off the
pace!
Wynns right, Brad, Lonny pointed out. Bob
Sharps C-Production Datsun was half a second
faster than us less than two weeks ago. Weve got a
bigger engine, bigger brakes, bigger tires, almost
everything is bigger on our car than a C-Production
Datsun.
Even a bigger lap time! Wynn groaned.
Brads face brightened. This may be the best
news weve had all season. Now all we need to do is
find out why were so slow.
I know why, Wynn said, growing slightly
exasperated. Were bouncing all over the track like
a rubber ball.
Bob Sharp had to contend with the same
conditions, Brad pointed out. That tells us that
something specific is wrong with our car. Ill take
Beetle Bomb and go to the back of the track to see if
I can detect any special problem in the bumpiest
section.
After Brad was positioned, Wynn drove ten laps.
131

Then he pulled into the pits. Brad arrived seconds

later with a jubilant expression on his face. I know
whats wrong, he called out. Its trying to spin out
in the rough section.
I could have told you that, Wynn replied. The
question is why.
Because one of the rear wheels is in the air. The
inside rear wheel leaves the ground, the car skids,
and the next thing you know the whole rear end has
broken loose.
But its so much worse here
Right. Because there are more bumps. But every
track has rough sections. Theres no such thing as a
smooth-as-glass surface.
Except maybe on the skid pad? Lonny queried.
Exactly. And thats where we corrected the
wheel lift. We seem to have a car that will handle on
a smooth surface but on a bumpy section it goes out
of control.
Wynn said, Those bumps have been costing us
precious time, then. Whats the remedy?
The boys began to experiment with suspension
adjustments that Brad made note of in his records.
The first possibilitythat the car was too stiff
netted no improvement in times after Brad tried
using softer springs. Loosening the sway bar helped
a little in the rough section, but seemed to hurt the
handling in the smoother areas.
132

Over lunch Brad made calculations. Another

possible solution would be to shorten the rear shocks
but that is not an adjustable part. So if you cant
adjust the shocks, you have to lift the rear end.
You mean simply raise the car with the adjuster
on the rear-shock strut where the spring is
attached? Lonny questioned.
Exactly.
Lonny stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his
mouth and crawled under the car to make the
adjustments. You are saying that the car has
bottomed out? he called to Brad.
Yes. It goes down and hits, taking up all of the
spring travel. Like a fat boy on a pogo stick. Then
its shaken loose from the ground when i pushes up
on its chassis.
And everybody knows that fat boys dont very
far on pogo sticks. Lonny stopped suddenly. Hey
Brad. Come take a look at this. Here your proof!
Brad crawled under the car and Lonny pointe to
the rubber bumper on the left rear shock. Its been
hitting these stops so hard, this one is torn!
Wynn stooped beside the Datsun to view the
damaged part. So when it bottomed, there was
nothing left for me to do but hang on to an out-ofcontrol car!
He pulled his racing suit on over his coveralls,
eager to see what improvement this discovery would
133

make in the car. Soon he was out circulating, with

Brad beside the track holding his thumbs up.
Lonny snapped the watch. Wow! Three seconds
faster than the A-Production time! he exclaimed. I
cant believe it. Ive never seen a mechanical change
make such a big difference!
Wynn pulled into the pits, overjoyed at his times.
You wont believe the car now. Its like a different
machine. It goes exactly where I point it, and it
sticks all the way through the turns like its running
on rails.
I just wonder why it took me so long to figure it
out, Brad said with a frown.
Maybe you have a lousy test driver, Wynn
offered. By the way, it seems to wander in front
when I put the brakes on hard.
Why didnt you say that before? Brad seemed
to be upset.
I didnt think it was important enough, Wynn
said apologetically. Figured it was my driving.
No! That means the front is bottoming out too!
Brad slid under the car to examine the front rubber.
He stood up and nodded. Suspicion confirmed.
Lonny made the adjustment while Brad explained
the principle to Wynn. You see, the skid pad
couldnt have shown me this factor because when
you travel in a circle, you dont use the brakes. And
youre on a smooth surface. The skid pad reveals the
134

basics but you need a track situation to get the

specifics that make you a winner.
Wynn took the car out again after Lonny had
finished the front adjustment. Upon returning he
found that he had gained another second.
You wont believe this, he said. But this thing
is suddenly fun to drive. Its like a formula car now.
Im not kidding!
Both Brad and Lonny took turns in their newly
sorted Datsun and returned astounded. This is the
best send-off weve had for a race all season, Wynn
shouted. Daytona, here we come!

135

CHAPTER XIV

Thar She Blows!

Soon the crew were on their way again, this time

without the girls, since there was no Baby Grand
race scheduled for the weekend. Inky and NancyRae had gone to Atlanta to make a promotional
movie for their sponsor.
The companions arrived at Daytona International
Speedway, the world-famous track in the Florida
resort town. Unlike some of the smaller and less
successful tracks on the circuit, Daytona afforded
every convenience a competitor could ask for.
The infield had plenty of room for camping in the
mild, breezy beach climate. Inside the paddock area
was a restaurant that served hearty meals cafeteria
style. Covered work areas were assigned to each
entrant along with a workbench and electricity for
night labor and the use of power tools.
After the boys unloaded the Datsun and rolled it
136

into their work stall, they strolled around the

paddock area to view the competition on hand for
the outing.
This should be a wild one, Brad noted,
qualifying in broad daylight and the race starting in
the dark of night.
The green flag would drop at twelve oclock,
releasing a horde of high-speed racers into the
darkness around the steep Daytona banking,
rerunning the famous chase of Paul Revere, for
whom the race was named.
Back in the garage area, Brad and Lonny checked
their driving lights, carefully covering and taping
them to prevent breaking the lens during the practice
and qualifying sessions, where lights would not be
necessary.
During early morning practice Lonny and Brad
watched eagerly as Wynn moved onto the banking.
He rode at such an angle that the roof of the car
faced the pits.
Brad chuckled. Guess I should have put our
number on the top instead of the side.
When qualifying got under way, Brad and Lonny
worked diligently to keep times on every car. For
each lap in which Wynn had the fastest time, Brad
would start to call him in, lettering the blackboard
In. Then Lonny would record a faster time on
Harlan or Velec. Brad had to change his signal to a
137

Go, urging Wynn to drive faster.

Boy, this is one hot qualifying session, Brad
said breathlessly. He is almost a full second faster
than he was in practice already, but if hes going to
clinch the pole, hell have to get two more tenths on
Velec.
This makes me nervous, Lonny remarked,
seeing Wynn having to push that far. I think hes
already running very near the limit.
They watched as their friend came past on the
banking. The car wound out to its full 7,500 rpms at
close to 155 miles per hour. Brad snapped the watch.
Closer. One more tenth and hes got him.
Velecs pulling into the pits, Lonny noted. He
must think he has it in the bag. Maybe his crew isnt
timing Wynn. They might not even suspect were
competitive.
When Wynn appeared on the banking again, a
thin gray cloud of smoke was coming from the car
in front of his after each shift. I hope he gets
around that guy soon, Lonny said. Hes
smokingthere it blows!
The car in front of the Datsun was enveloped in a
smoke cloud. As the oil splashed down on the rear
wheels, it lurched sideways. Wynn dived, trying to
make it to the apron instead of skirting around the
spinning vehicle on the dangerous wall side. But he
had already hit the oil splattered on the track. The
138

Datsun spun out of control as the caution flag went

up.
Lonny screamed, He smashed into the wall!
Wynns right rear fender struck the wall, rocking
him violently, but the shoulder belts held him firmly
in the seat. Brad and Lonny ran to the end of the pit
lane. The rescue crew was on the spot as the red flag
went up, stopping the traffic.
There was a small engine fire in the car with the
blown engine, but Wynn seemed to be out of danger.
He had already climbed out and walked to the rear
to assess the damage. Get a pull bar! he called out
to Lonny.
His teammate ran back to the pits, snatched the
tool, and hitched a ride to the disabled Datsun with
the wrecker crew.
Wynn said, I looked at the suspension already.
Seems everything is straight if you can get the
fender off the tire.
Lonny hooked the bar under the fender and pulled
hard with his strong arms. The metal buckled and
bent away from the wheel. All clear, he called.
But we need a new tire. This one has a risky cut in
the sidewalk
The boys rolled the Datsun back down the pit
row. They passed Velecs crew and noticed the
smiling driver sitting on the wall with his arms
crossed.
139

He must figure he has the pole in the bag, Brad

guessed.
If we hurry, said Lonny, we can get that wheel
changed and the car back out before the session
ends.
Five minutes left, Brad said. Time for two laps
at the most, but theyll be delayed a few minutes
with that oil spill.
Wynn leaped over the fence and picked up a new
wheel and tire. He checked to see if it was marked
RR, right rear, and handed it to his mechanic. While
Lonny loosened the lugs with an electric impact
wrench, Brad jacked up the car. Wynn put on his
helmet and gloves in order to be ready when the
course was open again.
All set, Brad called, rolling the jack out. Wynn
was already in the cockpit when the Datsun hit the
ground, and Lonny was tightening his belts.
Take it easy the first lap to make sure nothing is
broken underneath, Lonny warned. You took a
pretty hard bump and it might have cracked
something.
Wynn nodded, starting the motor, and headed to
the end of pit lane. The disabled car was being
towed away. The worker crews had covered the
pavement with oil dry and were sweeping the
absorbent clay through the slippery liquid, soaking it
up and removing it from the track with shovels.
140

Soon the pit steward signaled Wynn that he could

return to the track.
When he appeared, Brad snapped the time on the
first lap. Slow, he said.
Thats okay, Lonny said. Hes stroking it.
Wait till the next time around.
When Wynn whizzed by again, taking the
checkered flag, the car was stretched out at 160
miles an hour. Lonny looked up at Brad, who was
timing and flashing a big smile. Hes got it!
Lonny grinned. And Velec was so sure of
himself he stayed in the pits!
The official result verified Brads times. Wynn
had won the pole position by the margin of a tenth
of a second. Velec was second, and Harlan third.
Wynn assured Lonny that the engine felt as
strong at the end of the qualifying session as it had
in the beginning. They went to sleep early in the
afternoon, getting up at ten so they would arrive in
the pits with a little time to spare before the
midnight race.
Brad put the finishing touches on a set of radios.
Because of the extremely high speeds at this race, he
wanted to signal Wynn via headset attached to his
helmet. In case the system failed, he brought the
lantern and lighted board he had used at the girls
race at Ontario.
By the time the green flag dropped, Wynn felt
141

refreshed by the cool night air and was raring to go.

Velec won the acceleration battle to the first turn
with his high-powered Corvette, but Wynn slipped
past him in the infield. As they motored around the
oval, the Corvette had the edge on the smaller
Datsun, but Wynn could keep him in tow by passing
him in the road course section and catching his draft
on the oval.
Drafting, a stock-car technique, also worked for
the smaller GT cars as they negotiated the banking
section. The effect was achieved by ducking behind
the leader and using his draft, or tow, to achieve a
higher speed.
Wynn watched his tachometer, carefully making
sure he did not overrev his engine while being
pulled along by Velecs Corvette. He was cautioned
by Brad over the ear phones. Youre only a
hundred miles into the race. Spare the engine!
Wynns pit stop went routinely, but Velec
returned to the track with identical efficiency. They
continued their battle for first place, while Harlan
was a distant third after pitting with a flat tire.
At the two-hundred-mile point, trouble began.
Wynn noticed a flicker in the oil-pressure gauge
when the car was in tight cornering. This was often
the first sign of a sick engine. It was starving for oil
to lubricate its high-powered insides. The car
continued to perform adequately, but the oil pressure
142

began to drop. Two hundred twenty miles. Only

thirty to go!
Wynn spoke to Lonny on the radio. Pressures
dropping. Shall I pull in?
No! Lonny had decided it would be worth
sacrificing an engine if there was a chance to win.
Keep pushing, he said. I just noticed a puff of
smoke coming out of Velecs pipes. He might be
losing a little oil on the manifold but it could be
something more serious.
Soon Wynn had passed Velec in the infield and to
his surprise the Corvette did not repass him on the
oval, for the first time all night. He watched his
competitor in the rearview mirror. The Corvette was
still charging, but it had started to fade somewhat.
Lonny must have been right.
Velec is off half a second a lap, Lonny
reported.
Wynn watched the flickering gauge in his own
car. The pressure was down to forty pounds. He had
never driven a race car with so little oil pressure. If
he pulled in for a quart of oil to finish the race,
Velec would take the lead and there wouldnt be any
time left to catch him.
The needle dropped to thirty-five pounds, an only
ten miles to go! As Wynn moved on the oval. Velec
was receding ever farther in his mirror.
Then an announcement came from Brad. Your
143

lap times are picking up. Take it easy. You have ten
seconds on Velec. There was a moment of silence.
Five miles left! Brad said.
Wynn passed under the white flag. He was on the
last lap. He drove carefully, shifting smoothly in an
effort to save the weakened engine. He rolled onto
the oval heading for the last half mile
Boom! Suddenly the car was filled with fumes
and smoke, burning Wynns eyes. He noticed smoke
pouring from the cracks in the hood as he went
down the well-lighted straight. He saw the blurred
image of the black-and-white flag and coasted to a
stopthe winner!
Wynn guided the Datsun down to the grassy
apron, trying to spill as little oil as possible on the
track. Then he climbed shakily from his disabled
car.
Lonny and Brad darted across the grass. You did
it, fellow! Lonny screamed. You won!
But Lonny, I ruined your engine!
Brad chuckled. We must be philosophical at a
time like this. Lonny built the perfect racing engine.
It won and used itself up completely to do it.
Wynn had to laugh at Brads reasoning, shaking
his head and watching the oil splatter to the ground
under his racer. Well-wishers gathered around, and
helped push the Datsun to victory circle. As Wynn
was accepting congratulations, Bill Flynn tapped
144

him on the shoulder and pulled him aside.

I think I have something that will interest you,
he said. Meet me at the tech tent at three oclock.

145

CHAPTER XV

Ten Days in the Clink

The three boys reached the tech tent at three thirty

and found Flynn dozing in a chair.
Hi! Brad called. Sorry to disturb you, but
weve been awfully busy.
Flynn jumped, then relaxed when he saw the
boys, smiling slightly. Yes, he mumbled and
began to scramble through his tool box. Thought
this might interest you. To their amazement he
produced a digital timer.
Why, thats just like Inkys! Lonny exclaimed.
He turned it over and saw that the name tape had
been removed.
The registration number is the one she
advertised in the IMSA Arrow, Flynn said.
Whered you find it? Wynn questioned.
In a competitors tool box, Flynn said. Max
Turners to be exact. He denied any knowledge of it,
146

but just as I got ready to leave with it, his girl friend
walked up, asking for the stop watch and he shushed
her.
So he was the thief, Lonny said. He must have
sent his girl friend or one of his crew members over
during the confusion at Laguna to finger it while
Inky was busy looking for the door pin. In fact, he
could have been responsible for the lost pin.
Well, we cant prove anything, Flynn
remarked.
Thanks a million, Bill! Brad exclaimed. I
know a couple of little gals who will be overjoyed.
Flynn nodded and excused himself to get some
rest. The boys left with a new lightness in their
steps. After sleeping until late the next afternoon to
make up for the Paul Revere midnight ride, they
loaded their gear. They were to start the trek to the
West Coast from Daytona without returning to
Newgate. Only two races remained, Phoenix,
Arizona, and the finale back at Daytona in late
November. They were planning to meet the girls in
Mobile.
The highway out of Daytona was filled with tow
rigs that were also going directly to Phoenix. Soon
they gathered at a truck stop, where Brad counted
seventeen race-car outfits in the parking lot. Drivers
and crews agreed to stay together on the long haul
ahead in order to assist any of their colleagues who
147

might have a mechanical failure.

Wynn noticed that Nick Velec had stopped also,
but he sat in the far corner booth with Max Turner
and his girl friend, not participating in the bench
racing.
At Mobile the boys met Inky and Nancy-Rae by
the battleship Alabama. The girls stretched out in the
grass, watching the natives fish for eels. When Brad
presented the timer to Inky, she shrieked with
pleasure.
Before continuing on their way, they checked on
auto dealers in the city. Only one had been duped by
an Altagem crook. His description was vague and
they failed to pick up another clue.
Wynn phoned Jeff Kuralt. Jeff had already heard
of the Datsuns victory and congratulated the team.
As for the Altagem racket, things seemed to have
quieted down for a while, but he urged the young
people to continue to be on the alert.
That evening the group camped in the small
Louisiana town of Crayfish. The trees were draped
in Spanish moss and the flies buzzed dizzily in the
swamp heat.
Bill Flynn was out for a stroll. Wont you join us
for a glass of iced tea? Inky invited.
He accepted, and Inky said, I cant thank you
enough for rescuing my watch.
Dont mention it, he said, looking down shyly.
148

I had memorized the number in case I spotted it.

That was the tenth watch I had checked.
Do technical inspectors make a policy of
catching thieves?
No, not as a rule. I just knew it had to be an
inside job, since the pits were closed to anyone but
crew members. I dont like the idea of the
organization traveling with a thief in its midst.
How long have you been with IMSA? Lonny
asked.
Uh, Flynn hesitated, this is my first season.
Did you work with the SCCA or USAC before?
Brad queried.
Flynn shook his head.
Maybe NHRA?
No, I dont know anything about them, he said,
to their surprise.
Later on, Wynn said, For a man who is qualified
to inspect race cars, he certainly has no background
in racing.
Agreed, Brad added. Even a rookie inspector
would know the other organizations. Flynn seems
very reluctant to tell us just what his background is.
Early the next morning, the crew went into town
to stock up for the rest of the trip at the local grocery
store. There were only three parking places, and all
were taken. Wynn pulled around to the side of the
store and Inky followed, stopping behind him in a
149

loading zone.
Well have to make it quick, he called.
The group divided and headed down different
aisles, gathering provisions for four days on the
road. Each hurried through the checkout with a bag
of food. As they were loading them into the back of
the jeep, Inky noticed a policeman.
Oh-oh, she whispered, better try to do some
fast talking.
Wynn approached the officer. Sorry, he said
but we couldnt find a parking space and needed to
run into the store for a minute.
A minute. Humph! Seventeen minutes and
thirty-seven seconds to be exact. Didnt know I was
watching you from the seed store across the street. I
had just stopped for my morning cup of coffee when
I noticed you smart alecks pull up.
Were not smart alecks, Inky remarked. We
were buying groceries
Oh yes? Tell it to the judge. Come on, get in the
police car! he ordered.
What? Wynn exclaimed, for a parking
violation?
In a loading zone, it will cost you ten dollars for
every minute.
Why, thats highway robbery!
In the car, or do I have to call in
reinforcements?
150

The group piled reluctantly into the squad car.

Reinforcements? Brad repeated. What? The
National Guard?
They were shoved into the courtroom in front of a
judge who was just passing a sentence on the local
drunk. Public drunkenness, fifty-eighth time this
year, twenty-four hours in the clink. But go home
first and pack your own lunch, he said and yawned.
Watcha got there, Alexander?
Some smart aleck hotrodders who decided to
line up their race cars on Salmon Street.
Street racing! The judge came to life with a
ferocious look and began to deliver a speech on the
evils of fast driving. Weve had our fill of you
hotrod kids in Crayfish, with your loud mufflers and
hopped up engines. We dont have any use for your
wild crowd around here!
Oh, for crying out loud, Wynn said indignantly,
we werent street racing. We were parked
illegally.
Young man, you are in a court of law!
Well, why dont you start acting like a judge?
Inky snapped. We race our cars on the track, not
the street!
See? You admit youre racing. Whats a young
lady doing in a mans sport anyway? Youre not a
young lady in my book.
I beg your pardon, your Honor, but the civil
151

rights act
Im not talking about law. Im talking about
proper behavior. The judge continued with a
lecture on a womans place being in the home while
Inkys face grew red and her bottom lip began to
quiver. The arresting officer had ambled away, not
even telling the judge the details of the parking
violation.
Finally the magistrate picked up his gavel.
Breaking ordinance about race cars in the city
limits, blocking a loading zone, and contempt of
court! Ten days in the clink for the driver of each
vehicle. Next case.
Wynn and Inky looked at each other
incredulously. Jail! For illegal parking?
The judge banged the gavel again. Next case!
The group was led away with Inky and Wynn
singled out and shoved toward the cell area. NancyRae, Brad, and Lonny stood in the waiting room in a
state of shock.
Ten days! How can we go to Phoenix? Lonny
cried. I cant believe this has happened! He
collapsed onto one of the hard wooden benches.
When they had regained their composure, they
went back to their cars and parked them outside the
jail. Several of the racers had stopped, curious about
their problem.
Whats up, Lonny? Get nailed for speeding?
152

one asked.
Lonny shook his head. Just parked in the wrong
spot.
The news spread quickly, and Velec laughed
loudly as his rig pulled away on the road toward
Phoenix.
While they discussed their situation, Harlan
arrived.
Problems? he asked.
Lonny explained, and Harlan shook his head. I
might be able to help you out, he said with a smile.
But dont wait for me. Ill catch up with you
tomorrow. He disappeared into the courthouse.
Fifteen minutes later Inky and Wynn emerged.
Wow! Lonny exclaimed. What happened?
Dont ask me, Inky said with a shrug. We
were let go and even got an apology from the old
goat.
Wheres Harlan?
Harlan? I havent seen him since yesterday.
He sprung you!
Youre kidding!
Im not. And he told us not to wait for him.
Then lets get out of this place, Wynn said. I
dont want to spend a minute longer than I have to in
Crayfish, Louisiana.
The companions were already in Texas, when
they saw Harlan in their rearview mirror. They all
153

pulled into a rest area for lunch.

Philip, youre a great friend, Inky said and
kissed him. Howd you do it?
Harlan grinned and pulled out a Crayfish
newspaper. Look at this.
Famous actor visits old friend, Judge Palmer,
was the headline.
Lonny started to laugh. I dont believe it!
We used the judges house to film an episode in
the detective series a couple of years ago, Harlan
explained. As a matter of fact, hell visit me in my
mountain estate in Arizona later in the week.
As they moved across the seemingly endless
flatlands of Texas, Wynn sighted a competitor on
the road ahead. His rig appeared to be down on one
side.
They stopped and saw that one of the wheels had
broken its center out in a pothole.
Got a spare? Nancy-Rae asked.
I ought to know better, the driver said sadly,
but I dont.
I do, she said. You have the same lug pattern.
She unlatched her extra trailer wheel from the jeep.
The driver was grateful and promised to return it
when his wheel was rewelded in Phoenix.
After they had crossed the border to New Mexico,
trouble struck the caravan again. The boys noticed
the girls coast to a stop behind them. They climbed
154

out of Beetle Bomb and trotted back.

Look what happened to the good Samaritan!
Brad yelled. Their wheel broke, too!
And Ive given away the spare that Daddy put in
for us. Nancy-Rae moaned.
They sat down under a tree to plan the difficult
repairs. Lonny could unhitch Beetle Bomb and take
the wheel into the nearest town, Wynn said. But
its fifty miles away.
A minute later a van pulled up beside their
vehicles and the driver stepped down. It was Bill
Flynn. He looked at the wheel. No spare?
When he heard their story, he went on, I have a
gas welder in the van. One of the guys asked me to
carry it because he was short on space.
Oh, great! Wynn said, and the boys quickly
removed the wheel. Lonny located a rod of the
proper size and put on the welders mask. When he
fired it up, the vane popped and shot out a blue
flame. It works! he said, smiling. All I need now
is a clamp.
Got one, Flynn replied. He leaped into the van
and turned a combination lock to open a trunk.
Inside were a collection of gadgets and gauges.
Lonny lifted his mask for a better look when he
noticed an instrument he did not recognize.
Whats that? he asked.
Which one? Flynn answered, shutting the trunk
155

quickly.
The strange-looking gadget with the blue dial.
Flynn smiled benignly. Thats to tell if a car is
straight. He snapped the trunk shut and closed the
combination lock. Now if you would get on with
your repair job, we can be on our way!

156

CHAPTER XVI

Red and Yellow Flags

Lonny welded the broken wheel while Flynn paced

back and forth impatiently. When the boy was
finished, he quickly gathered his equipment and
lifted it into the van, refusing any help with the
heavy canisters. He pushed the door shut and
padlocked it, then he said good-by and drove off.
Boy, that guy was in a hurry, Lonny said.
He didnt seem to be until you asked him about
that strange tool, Wynn observed. What did he
mean by something to tell if a car is straight?
Maybe you can check the chassis with it to see if
it has been twicked in an accident, Brad offered.
After Lonny tightened the nuts on the girls trailer
wheel, they drove away into the expanse of New
Mexico. A phone call to Jeff next morning at a
service station revealed that the most recent Altagem
swindles had taken place in Albuquerque. When
157

they told him of Flynns strange tool, he was

baffled. Could be a precision instrument stolen
from someone else that he might have wanted to
make part of his bogus offers, Jeff suggested.
Thats possible, Lonny said.
When they arrived in Albuquerque, the group
split up in the sunny New Mexico city and
questioned the cheated dealers. The descriptions of
the swindler, who was short and heavy, did not
match Flynn. The police promised to look out for
the crook, and the young people drove on toward
Phoenix. When they reached the track, they noticed
that groups of racers were milling around the tech
building. No one appeared to be working on his car.
Instead they all were talking in agitation.
Havent you heard? Philip Harlan has been
hauled in by the cops.
Harlan? Inky exclaimed. What for?
Car theft. Hes rumored to be the brains behind a
large West Coast ring.
Oh, I dont believe that, Inky said indignantly.
He just isnt the type. Why would a guy with his
income and fame get involved in something like
that?
All I know is that he was caught at his mountain
hideaway just outside of Phoenix with a stolen race
car on his property.
The speaker left and Brad turned to his friends.
158

What do you think?

Hes been framed! Inky snapped.
Lets get directions to his place and take a look,
Wynn suggested.
They unhooked their trailers and drove out of
town in Beetle Bomb and the jeep, heading for a
narrow dusty road marked private property. It had
been heavily traveled recently, probably by other
racers who were as curious as they were. Finally
they spotted a group of cars parked at the foot of a
small hill. On top was a beautiful mountain lodge
with a glass front.
Parked between two Phoenix police cars stood a
new Cadillac. Inky noticed the license tag, which
spelled VELEC. Next to it was Bill Flynns van.
Lonny approached Flynn, who was bending over,
shoving something under the seat.
Whats going on, Bill?
Flynn rapidly jumped out, closing the door and
locking it. I just got wind that one of our racers is
involved in a car theft. This will be bad publicity for
the series, he said glumly.
Where did they find the car? Wynn asked.
In a toolshed behind the lodge. Its a white
Datsun. A plumber who came to repair the sprinkler
system saw it. The police are waiting for the rightful
owner to claim it.
Wow! Brad said, my Datsun was stolen, too,
159

and sold to Wynn and Lonny here.

The four went up to the toolshed. Minutes later a
short, muscular man arrived. My names Curtis,
he said to the police officer standing by the white
Datsun. And thats my car all right.
Do you have proof?
Yes. Here are my ownership papers and
registration. And I brought some photographs of the
car in different stages of development with pattern
drawings for the handmade dashboard.
Brad had walked around the racer, and nowopened the door. The numbers have been filed off
and treated with acid, he said to Wynn.
Curtis was permitted to reclaim the car. One of
the onlookers volunteered to drive his rental back to
the airport. Everyone left the toolshed and walked to
the foot of the hill, where Curtis spied Velecs new
Cadillac. He walked over, and looked briefly
through the back window before Velec pulled away.
Bill Flynn had watched the scene intently.
Inky asked him, Is Mr. Harlan going to be taken
to jail?
Im not sure, he replied thoughtfully. Not sure
at all.
Back at the track infield the early arrivals were
completing their pre-race inspections. Flynn arrived
and began to check Velecs Corvette. Wynn and
Lonny rolled the Datsun up next in line and strolled
160

near him to overhear the conversation.

Nice new tow car you have, Flynn said.
Its not new, Velec replied. Its used. And I
dont plan to tow with it. Thats my pleasure car. At
least I thought it was to be for fun, but it handles like
a pig.
Maybe youre just used to the good handling of
the Corvette riding on racing tires and suspensions,
Flynn suggested.
Its more than that, Velec replied. Almost as if
the Caddy wants to plow off the road. When I
correct it, it gets twitchy under throttle.
Hm, Flynn said, sounds as if it might have
been in an accident. I have a device that will tell you
if the chassis is bent. Wait until Im finished here
and Ill take a look.
When the line had disappeared, Flynn went t his
van and got the mysterious instrument.
I want to see what hes doing, Wynn said to
Lonny. Come on!
The boys followed Flynn to the parking lot. He
started to work around the car while Velec wandered
away to talk to another driver. Wynn and Lonny
watched from a distance. It appeared that Flynn was
checking more than a bent chassis. He climbed
inside the car, using the gadget around the
dashboard.
Hes writing things down on a piece of paper,
161

Lonny observed.
Just then Velec returned. Found the trouble?
The chassis is straight, Flynn told him. Id
suggest you have a dealer check the alignment.
The boys went back to their crew and told the
others what they had seen. Flynns behavior baffled
them all.
Finally Inky yawned. Im exhausted, she said.
Lets get some shut-eye.
In qualifying on the dry, hot Arizona Saturday,
Wynn placed the car third on the grid. He was
disappointed because ahead of him were Velec and
Harlan, who knew the Phoenix course, while Wynn
was a rookie there. Before the session Harlan had
come down to their pits. He looked harried from his
experience.
Hi, he said, slightly embarrassed. I guess
youve heard what theyre accusing me of. Not as
easy to get out of as a Crayfish parking violation.
And we dont believe it for a minute, Inky
retorted.
Harlan smiled weakly.
What about that Datsun? Lonny asked directly.
Have you ever seen it before?
Never. First time Id been there in months. I was
just sitting down to dinner at my place when the
police drove up and demanded that I open the
toolshed. They had received an anonymous phone
162

call saying the car had been spotted through a

window by a plumber. I knew of no plumber, but I
saw no reason not to open the shed. There was the
stolen car. I couldnt believe it!
Are they going to let you race tomorrow?
Wynn asked.
Im out on bail. My lawyers took care of that. At
the same time I got a hard lecture from my agent
about my contract. One more accident, he says, and
it will be broken!
Accident? Nancy-Rae asked.
Unfortunately he attended Laguna and Ontario
and saw my mishaps. They dont want my face
messed up, he said with embarrassment. Theyd
have to retape all the shows for the season if my
appearance changed or I became incapacitated.
Well, quit worrying, Inky said. Buckle
yourself in tight and forget about everything but the
race.
The next day they did not see the troubled actor
until the cars were on the grid. He was avoiding
being seen because the Phoenix newspapers had
broken the story about the car theft. The track was
crowded with curious onlookers. Inky climbed onto
her timing stand.
Im worried about Philip, she said to NancyRae, but hes a real pro. He should be able to
handle it.
163

When the flag dropped, Harlan appeared steady

and back to normal, driving a nose-to-tail duel with
Velec. The higher-powered cars held a slight edge
over Wynn, who ran in third place, losing precious
ground on the banked oval. Just as at Talladega and
Daytona, the track at Phoenix was equipped with an
oval for high-speed cars. Only here the track was
designed for Indianapolis type racers, driven by
people like Mario Andretti and Mark Donohue. The
high-speed area put great stress on the already
stretched-out GT cars. Lonny was disappointed with
his new engine.
I think I lost the best one at Daytona, he said.
There goes one, Nancy-Rae said, and pointed
as a backmarker became enveloped in the familiar
smoke of a blown motor.
You bet, said Inky, and he acts as if he doesnt
even know it. He must have oiled the track for a
hundred feet!
Red and yellow flags began to appear around the
area, warning the drivers of the oil trail. Hastily
Brad wrote OIL on the blackboard with shoe polish
and held it up to the approaching Wynn. He lifted
his hand momentarily, indicating he had caught on.
Thats a relief. He knows its there and will
drive around it with caution, Lonny said.
The corner workers tried fruitlessly to run out
between the passing cars and dump oil dry onto the
164

liquid. But the traffic was still too heavy.

Three laps passed under the oil flag, and lap times
began to pick up as the competitors found ways
around the slick, yielding carefully to the cars ahead
and taking the clean track through the affected turn.
The duel between Velec and Harlan had reached
a dead heat as the two ran side by side around the
oval. Wynn was falling back slightly because he did
not have the advantage of the draft.
This makes me nervous, Inky said to NancyRae. I dont like to see them racing that close,
knowing there is only room for one in the esses.
Youre right. Watch Velec set up a block.
Nancy-Rae pointed. Oh no! Harlan thought he
could get through first and Velec has cut him off. He
cant get on his brakes fast enough!
Inky rose to her feet. Velec forced Harlan into
the oil. Hes spinning!
A cloud of dust flew up as Harlan spun off the
track. The closely pursuing Wynn darted down into
the one dry stretch and made it safely through the
turn.
Harlan continued to spin, his momentum of over
120 miles per hour impossible to contain. The wind
cleared the dust and the girls saw the out-of-control
car come to an abrupt stop. It had collided with a
giant cactus.
Brad lifted his binoculars. The cactus smashed
165

into his windshield!

An ambulance rushed to the scene. Inky and
Nancy-Rae labored to keep their charts accurate but
it had grown difficult to concentrate on their work.
Was Harlan injured? Wynn had inherited second
place. Slowing down for the accident had left him
hopelessly behind Velec, who seemed to coast to an
easy win.
I hope the officials saw that dirty move and take
his license away for a million years! Inky said with
tears in her eyes.
Do you see anything yet, Brad? Lonny asked.
Is he out of the car?
Theyre putting him on a stretcher, Brad replied
sadly, handing the glasses to Lonny.
The loudspeaker began to announce the accident.
We have word from the corner station on the
condition of Philip Harlan involved in the single-car
accident in the esses. He collided with a cactus,
which resulted in a broken windshield. Our first
report, though unofficial at this time, indicates that
he has suffered facial injuries. This is too bad. As
you may be aware, Philip Harlan plays the
handsome detective

166

CHAPTER XVII

Out of the Past

After a brief stop at the track medical facility, the

ambulance left with Harlan for the main Phoenix
hospital.
It must be pretty serious. Inky fretted.
Maybe theyre just being cautious, Nancy-Rae
consoled her, in case they need a plastic surgeon.
The race drew to a close with Velec coasting to
an easy victory. Only the pit spectators who knew
the intricacies of racing realized what a dirty trick he
had pulled. Wynn took second, leaving his car in the
impound area reserved for the first three finishers.
He rushed to the pits on foot.
That whole scene was inexcusable! he called
out angrily. I saw what happened. Velec thinks he
can win at any cost. Even a human life! He asked
about Harlans condition and was told that it might
be serious.
167

That does it. Im filing a driver protest, since

Harlan isnt able to do it himself. Velec has to be
stopped before he kills someone.
Lonny and Brad agreed with Wynns decision.
The three headed toward the official tower when
Nancy-Rae called, Give us the keys to Beetle
Bomb. Well go to the hospital to check on Philip.
Good idea, Lonny said, tossing the keys.
After filing the protest, the boys were met by
Flynn on the steps. They explained their action to
him. His response was surprisingly favorable for the
usually unemotional inspector. Im with you all the
way. Close clean competition is one thing, but that
move constituted premeditated murder. I think itll
carry more weight if a competitor complains,
though. Hopefully, the others will join in the
protest.
Wynn collected his second-place check, and the
boys retired to the work area to get their tools.
Lonny walked out to the trailer to chain the spare
wheels on when he noticed Flynn was again
examining Velecs Caddy. When Lonny returned, he
reported the news to Wynn and Brad.
Just then Flynn appeared at the door to the work
area. He made a beeline for Velecs stall, carrying a
sheet of paper. Although they could not overhear
what was said, they saw Velecs face twist as he
backed away. Had Flynn served him with a driver
168

reprimand?
The inspector ordered the disgruntled Velec out
into the parking lot.
Hurry, we cant miss this, Brad urged. They
followed and stood in the shadows, close enough to
overhear the conversation.
Flynn pointed to the Cadillac. Open the door!
Velec hesitated.
I am holding the papers that say you must open
that door, Flynn insisted.
Velec reluctantly complied.
Hey, look, Brad said, there come the Phoenix
police! What do you suppose is up?
Unable to stand the suspense any longer, the boys
moved closer to the scene. Flynn addressed the
police. Book him for transporting a stolen vehicle
across a state line. There may even be a broader link
in this case.
Now a crowd started to gather. They watched as
Velec was shoved over to the squad car.
I heard you say stolen vehicle, Brad said to
Flynn. Was Velec involved in the theft instead of
Harlan?
The inspector leaned on the Caddy. The serial
number of the Cadillac matched that of a stolen car
reported in Southern California. And the Datsun
found at Harlans estate was from the same area. We
believe Harlan was framed.
169

But, Brad protested, the serial number of the

Datsun had been filed off. I checked when we were
at Philips place.
One moment please, Flynn excused himself. He
walked to the Caddy and took out his mysterious
gadget. This, he explained, is a special serial
detector developed by the FBI. It will give the
reading of the number if a crook has removed it with
a file or with acid, because it detects the impression
made in the metal when it was originally applied.
The FBI! Brad exclaimed.
Thats correct, Flynn said. Im an FBI agent
and have been on the trail of the car thieves since the
racing season opened. I was assigned when Wynn
and Lonny bought your stolen Datsun in Charlotte.
The boys were thunderstruck. And we thought
you were one of the swindlers that peddled Kuralts
Altagems!
Flynn grinned. Why, do I look like him?
You fit the description of one, Wynn said. By
the way, do you ever go to the Swamp Fox Bar and
Grill in Charlotte?
Occasionally.
Do you own a yellow Oldsmobile?
No. A blue Chevy. But why the third degree?
The boys told him all about their investigation.
Then Velec and a policeman walked over to them.
Velec wants to take his personal possessions out of
170

the Cadillac before it is turned over to the

authorities, the officer said.
Sorry, Flynn replied, but that is not possible.
My search warrant gives me permission to examine
everything found in this car.
Velec was looking at a package on the front seat.
Flynn picked it up. Whats this? H.S. Belem,
General Delivery, Los Angeles. Is this what you
want?
Velec grew visibly nervous. That must have
been left in there by the man who sold me the car. I
told you already. All I know is his name is Shorty,
and he said hed mail me the bill of sale. I must have
bought a stolen car.
Then why is your return address on this? Flynn
asked. Suppose you open this!
Flynn shoved the package into Velecs hands, and
he slowly untied the string. As the paper fell away
the boys exclaimed in unison, An Altagem!
Bill didnt only get his crook, but ours, tool
Lonny said.
Well look into this thing, Flynn promised.
Meet me tomorrow at the local FBI office and well
discuss the details.
Will do, Wynn said. But I want you to know
one more thing. We werent cheating when our
Datsun was underweight in Ontario. Someone
removed the weights we had put under the car.
171

Flynn nodded, I suspected that. And I think we

suspect the same person.
Im sure glad hes out of action now, Lonny
said. Then the boys rushed off to call Jeff Kuralt,
while Velec was taken into custody. They wanted to
assure him that his case was now in the hands of the
FBI. Then they borrowed the girls Jeep, unhooked
the trailer, and rushed to the hospital.
I hope Harlans conscious, Wynn remarked.
Itll put his mind at rest to know that the car theft
has been turned around. Velec must have had one of
his cronies plant that Datsun at Philips place,
knowing hed be on the road with the racer.
Of course, Brad reasoned. Then all he had to
do was make the phony phone call to the police,
posing as the plumber.
Harlan was allowed visitors until eight oclock.
When the boys arrived, they found Inky and NancyRae still at his bedside. His face was completely
covered with bandages.
He greeted them with a cheerful wave. Dont
worry. Its not as bad as it seems. Ill look like a
used pin cushion for a few days, but its nothing my
makeup man cant fix until it heals.
The boys explained the mysterious Bill Flynn and
the unfolding of both the car theft and the Altagem
swindle.
Wow! We really missed all the action, Inky
172

exclaimed.
There was this strange package on the front
seat, Brad went on, addressed to some guy in Los
Angeles. Belem was the name. Flynn forced Velec
to open it and there was the stolen Altagem. Theyll
try to pick Belem up
Brad stopped talking when he noticed that Harlan
had lowered his head. Belem! he whispered. H.S.
Belem!
Thats right, Brad said. Do you know him?
There was silence for several moments. Then
Harlan explained, Belem was an acquaintance of
mine ten years ago. I was new to Hollywood and
naive. It was considered the in thing to pal around
with underworld types.
Belem would come to my cocktail parties and
entertain my guests with his escapades. But soon it
was more than talk. He had been picked up on a
drug charge and asked me for bail money.
Did you give it to him? Lonny asked.
No. I didnt know he was involved in drug
traffic and told him I wanted no part of it. He went
to prison to await trial. I got a note from him saying
hed get me sooner or later. That was the last I heard
from him.
Maybe he sicked Velec on you, Inky said,
excited, and they were willing to sacrifice one of
their stolen race cars to get you in trouble!
173

A nurse appeared at the door. Im afraid the

visiting hours are over. Mr. Harlan needs rest.
The group bid the actor good-by and promised to
keep him posted on the theft. The next morning they
went to the FBI office to fill Bill Flynn in on the
Altagem swindle. Since the theft was interstate, the
FBI could investigate the case.
By the way, Flynn said, we just got the dope
on H.S. Belem. He was released from San Quentin
over a year ago.
So he could have been involved in the Altagem
swindle right from the start, Nancy-Rae noted.
Flynn nodded. He was assigned to the prison
auto-paint shop. A good worker, too.
Auto paint! Lonny exclaimed. An ideal
preparation to be a car thief!
Hm. After he came out, he is said to have bought
a car-salvage place in Phoenix. We havent been
able to verify this yet, or find out what name hes
using.
There was another man involved in the Altagem
case, Inky said. The one who was arrested in Los
Angeles, but jumped bail.
Well contact the Los Angeles police and get the
details on him, Flynn promised. And most likely
there were others. Well try to round them all up.
The racers left Flynns office shortly afterward.
The boys drove back to the track in Beetle Bomb,
174

and the girls followed in the Jeep. An accident

congested traffic and they had to detour.
There they go! Inky said as she stopped for a
red light.
Well catch up with them, Nancy-Rae said. But
after a while they realized that they had gotten lost
because of the rerouting.
Hey, I have no idea where we are, Inky
admitted.
We must be on the outskirts of town. These look
like all kinds of junkyards around here.
Nancy-Rae! Maybe one of them belongs to
Belem! Why dont we investigate? We can pretend
to look for some spares and perhaps well find a
clue!
Good thinking!
The girls drove into several salvage yards, asking
for parts, which they did not expect to find. Nothing
looked suspicious.
Theres only one more left before the highway,
Inky said finally. I guess were on the wrong
track.
Lets check this one out, Nancy-Rae said.
They parked under a clump of trees and worked
their way through the shadows to a small building
behind the wrecked cars. A single light bulb burned
inside and they could hear voices through a broken
pane.
175

I called the hospital and his condition is good, a

man said. Thats bad news. Well have to kill him
at Daytona.
Just as Inky turned to Nancy-Rae in shock, they
heard a menacing growl. A German Shepherd dog
sprang at them and grabbed Nancy-Rae by the leg of
her jeans, throwing her to the ground. Inky screamed
for help while the snarling dog tore at her friends
clothes!

176

CHAPTER XVIII

Socko

Suddenly a command rang out. Fang, stop!

The dog backed away quietly. Inky helped
Nancy-Rae to her feet. Are you hurt? she asked,
worried.
No, I dont think so. Maybe a few scrapes and
bruises, but that monster almost gave me heart
failure.
A red-haired man approached.
Are your customers always attacked by a dog?
Inky asked angrily.
Youre not customers. Youre racers. I
recognized you right away from those Lean-Girl
Jean ads. And you didnt come here to buy anything.
You came here to snoop for your friend Harlan!
Whatever gave you that idea? Inky asked.
Why would we
Shut up! said a hoarse voice behind them. The
177

girls whirled around and confronted two other men.

Lets get out of here, Nancy-Rae! Inky
screamed. She dashed off to the right, Nancy-Rae to
the left. Inky felled the red-haired man, who stepped
in her way, with a karate chop, but was instantly hit
hard on the back of her head. She blacked out!
When she came to, she was gagged and tied,
hands and feet, to an old bucket seat in a dusty
office. Nancy-Rae, in the same position, was next to
her. She motioned for Inky to work her gag loose on
the edge of the seat, then explained what had
happened in a whisper.
They found out that Velec was taken into
custody and are arguing about how to divide up the
take before leaving town. Belem had planned to go
to Los Angeles and sell more phony Altagems, but
now figures hed better cut out. Hes the redhead,
the one who tried to block you. He says hes going
to Mexico.
ShhTheyre talking!
Two men had entered the room next to them.
Well, I know a good way to get rid of the two
chicks, the red-headed man said. The mashers
coming through tomorrow to crush up some cars and
clear this lot. Just put them inside one of the trunks.
The girls shivered. If only they had not come
alone on this mission!
Wynn and Lonny, meanwhile, had gone back to
178

the track. When the girls did not arrive, they became
worried.
Where do you think they went? Lonny asked.
They might have gotten lost in all that traffic,
Brad offered.
For two hours? Wynn said. I doubt it. I have
this funny feeling
I just thought the same thing, Lonny said.
Maybe they went out to search for Belem on their
own!
Lets call Bill, Wynn decided.
Flynn was worried. We still havent any lead to
Belems business. But theres an area outside of
town where most of the junkyards are. Ill go right
down with a couple of my men.
Could we meet you there? Wed like to take part
in the search.
It starts at the end of Glen Cove Highway,
Flynn said. Lets meet at the first place after the
highway.
Roger.
Half an hour later Beetle Bomb screeched to a halt
in front of the junkyard. Flynn and his men were
already there.
The jeeps under that tree over there, Flynn
said. We hit pay dirt!
Can we go in with you? Wynn asked.
Yes. My men will stay here to back us up. Lets
179

go in the front way. These places always have guard

dogs to protect their cars from petty thieves.
The FBI man and the boys walked to the door and
knocked. What do you want? a surly voice asked.
We need some parts for a fifty Chevy, Flynn
said.
Go away. We aint open until tomorrow.
But I need them bad. You have two fifty
Chevies. Ive got a stock-car race tonight and my
crew will pay you double for them.
The door opened and the four walked in.
You help him find what he wants. I aint got
time, the redhead told one of his cohorts.
I think that blue sedan over by the fence has
what I need, Flynn said.
The girls heard his voice. Inky screamed. Bill!
Help us!
The men jumped up, but Flynn pulled a gun
before they had a chance to act. Put your arms up
high on the back wall. He ordered Wynn and
Lonny to frisk them while Brad freed Nancy-Rae
and Inky.
Now suppose you fellows explain why you had
these two girls tied up, Flynn demanded.
They were prowling around the lot, the redhead
said. I thought they were looking for something to
steal. This is private property.
Whose?
180

Mine!
Then youre Velecs buddy Belem, Flynn
stated. What?
Velec tells us this is the front for a car-theft ring
and that it was your idea to get into the Altagem
business. He said you fixed Philip Harlans car so he
would crash.
Thats a lie! Belem stormed. Velecs the one
who said he could get Harlan in a race and no one
would know it wasnt an accident. I never touched
his car Belem, realizing his mistake, was
suddenly close-mouthed. I dont know nothing
about it.
I think you told us all we need to know. Brad, go
out and have my men call the police on the car
radio. Tell them we have three suspects to haul in.
After the men were taken into custody, Flynn said
to the boys, Im going to have a little talk with
Velec in his cell. Come to my office in a couple of
hours, and maybe Ill have more news for you.
When the young people arrived, he motioned
them to sit down. I think we have this case pretty
much wrapped up.
Did Velec confess?
Yes. He tried to do Harlan in on the track as a
favor to Belem. That felon in turn would fix up
Velecs stolen cars, alter the serial numbers, and
repaint them.
181

But who was the originator of the Altagem

deal? Brad asked.
Belem. He had traveled to the Altadyne factory
after delivery of the Datsun in Charlotte. This, by
the way, was one of their tricksto have a dealer in
a different part of the country sell the car on a
commission basis, wait for the sale, then file off the
rollbar number after the papers were made out.
Anyway, he met an old friend who was working for
Kuralt, an ex-dope-pusher, and talked him into
stealing the instruments for a cut in the take.
And then he hired people to sell them?
Right. About four men.
But how did Belem and Velec get together?
After Velec stole his first car, he got a tip that
Belem could make it untraceable.
What about Max Turner? Lonny asked.
Hes clean.
Wynn shook his head. What a setup. Well, Jeff
will be happy to hear its all over now.
What are you doing next?
Race in Daytona. Want to come and watch?
Id like to. If I dont get another assignment in
the meantime, Ill fly down for the event. Until then,
take care.
You too, Wynn said. And Bill, thanks! They
shook hands, and the young people headed for
Daytona for the final race. Harlan was released from
182

the hospital but decided to pass up the race to

recuperate at his mountain lodge. He had landed a
new television series starring a race driver and
would be allowed to do his own driving.
When the friends drove into Daytona, a surprise
awaited them.
Jeff Kuralt had come down in his private plane
and landed at the airport beside the track. After they
had clued him in on the latest developments, he took
them on an afternoon trip in the sunny Florida skies
to see the Kennedy Space Center. Then he treated
them to steaks at the Ponderosa.
On Saturday morning the official qualifying
session was held. Two prominent drivers were
missing, Nick Velec and Philip Harlan. Brad
decided the main competition would come from
veteran Paul Sykes, the points leader, and Velecs
old buddy Max Turner.
One of the GT drivers approached him. I
overheard something you ought to know, he said.
Last night in the bar at our motel, I heard Max
Turner bragging that he hot wired your MG at
Ontario and drove it in a lake.
Brad was beside himself with rage. That dirty
rat! Id like to drive his race car into the Atlantic
Ocean!
Now the girls went out to qualify. Brad was busy
with the stop watch, as more than sixty cars ran for
183

starting positions in the Baby Grand. His temper

subsided momentarily. At the end of the session,
Nancy-Rae had put the car in sixth position. They
would have a short break while the boys qualified
before their race began at five oclock. Since it was
late November, the days were growing shorter and
part of the race would be run after dark in order to
cover the required two hundred miles.
Without Velec and Harlan to contend with, Wynn
easily won the pole. Max Turner missed the session,
fiddling with his engine in the pits, unable to better
his earlier time, which was half a second slower than
the North Carolinians. Wynn drove the Datsun to
the work area, parked it, and hurried to the pits to
assist the girls. Inky had elected to start.
The race went smoothly. She held her own in
fifth position. Less than ten laps before her pit stop,
it began to grow dark and the lights went on at the
giant facility.
Lonny took Brads binoculars to check on Inky.
I think her times are slowing, he said. She
appears to have handling problems. The cars loose
in the rear end.
Wed better check those tires carefully when she
comes in, Wynn said. She may have heavy wear
and need a change.
Lonny gave the board to Inky for her final lap
before pitting. When he ran back to prepare for the
184

stop, he met Brad, who was searching the pit

frantically.
Lonny, I cant find the rear tires. I know I put
them right here.
Oh no! Its too late to stop her from coming in.
You get ready, Nancy-Rae. Do your own lights.
Well look for the tires.
The boys searched frantically in the pit area,
asked everyone if they had seen the tires. Inky
screeched to a stop in the pits and Lonny ran to lift
the fuel can. While Nancy-Rae snatched off the light
covers before climbing in, Wynn jacked the car up
and examined the rear tires. They were worn down
to the cord.
She cant go out on these. Theyll blow in two
laps! he yelled.
Just then Brad appeared, struggling over the wall
with two wheels. Wynn grabbed one and they began
changing the tires while Inky instructed Nancy-Rae,
who was already in the cockpit. Wynn banged on
the roof and she left, ten seconds over their usual
pit-stop time. She rejoined the race, losing three
positions.
Sorry, Inky, Wynn apologized.
Excuse me, Brad said, and he stomped to the
adjoining pits. He walked directly up to the
surprised Max Turner and clobbered him with a
lightning-fast right, sending the bigger man reeling
185

over a tool box. Then he returned with a satisfied

look.
Why did you do that? Lonny asked.
Guess where the tires were! Turner had taken
them for his girl friend to sit on. I owed him that
punch. I like to pay my debts.
Inky threw her arms around his neck, kissed him,
and giggled. My hero! she said.
Nancy-Rae was soon running at the qualifying
time, the fresh tires settling the car in the groove.
The cool night air appeared to lessen wear on the
rubber, and her lap times were quick. When the flag
dropped, she had worked up to third, just behind the
fastest BMW and Gremlin.
After a brief celebration over a feast paid for by
Jeff, the group retired to prepare for the race the next
day. Lonny wanted to go back to the barns to check
the car one more time, but Wynn insisted that he get
some sleep.
In the morning warm-up the car had developed an
engine miss and Lonny was forced to labor over it
until starting time. When Wynn left for the pace lap,
he listened carefully.
I hate last minute problems, Lonny told Brad.
Thats always a bad reflection on the mechanic.
You dont have any practice time left to solve it and
that makes the race a gamble.
Sounds like its running clean to me, Brad said
186

consolingly.
Lonny nodded, hopeful as the flag dropped.
Wynn raced Turner to the first corner, winning the
acceleration battle. It was a duel between the two
and the rest of the pack strung out behind like a
train.
Wynn was able to hold Turners Corvette off in
the infield section, but the high-powered car passed
him countless times on the straight.
Lonny was worried. I dont think he can build
up enough of a lead to hold him off. All Turner has
to do is slingshot around on the last lap and its all
over. He can turn that Corvette into a road block
twenty feet wide.
Hes famous for that, Brad said. Im certainly
glad I socked him.
On the last lap the group stood on Inkys timing
stand to watch the cars head onto the oval. It had
been a grueling nose-to-tail duel. Wynn led by less
than half a second when they came on the banking.
The cars roared around an incline that slanted up to
31 degrees, Wynn in the lead by no more than a
cars length. Turner dropped down low, ready to
snap around in the last hundred yards.
Look at that! Brad called jubilantly. He forgot
they werent the only cars there!
Turner ducked down and fell behind a backmarker, who had been attempting to stay out of the
187

leaders way by running low. He was caught in his

own trap, tailgating the slow car across the finish
line. Wynn had taken the flag first, over four car
lengths ahead!
As they rushed to the victory circle, Wynn
stopped in the pits, picking up his crew and driving
to the starters stand. With all five of them piled in
around the roll bar, Lonny held the checkered flag
that was handed to him for the victory lap.
That evening at the annual IMSA banquet the
awards were made for the season. Wynns final
victory had earned him second place in the points
standings, behind veteran driver Paul Sykes, who
had finished every race in fourth place or better to
be the series winner.
Wynn was overjoyed, making a short and
embarrassed speech to thank his crew and his
sponsor, Jeff Kuralt. Inky and Nancy-Rae beamed as
they accepted the third-place trophy for the Baby
Grand series.
Then came the surprise of the evening. The
president of the club stood up to make the coveted
Mechanic of the Year Award.
Due to the difficulty of winning races with an
untried car in its first season, he related, the
committee voted unanimously to give the prize to
Lonny Morris, chief mechanic for Wynn Redford.
The jubilant young people shouted and lifted
188

Lonny and his silver trophy to their shoulders,

marching down to the beach.
For a minute, Lonny said happily, I almost
forgot we didnt win the series.
Wait until next year, old buddy, Wynn said
with confidence.

189