Patrick O'Connor

“ Woody didn't have the courage to say no, he didn't get over it. Other drivers did and took chances and won races. But he, although he seemed to be taking chances, was actually avoiding them and getting through on sheer driving talent. He didn't drive a race with any courage at all. He drove it with nothing else but fear in his mind. If he could find some courage, he might win a couple of times. But fear held him back constantly—fear of being wrapped around a telephone pole or being mangled under the wheels of cars behind or turning over and being pounded to death in his own car. ”

“ A cricket started a shrill chirruping in the grass behind him, and he experienced a sudden flush of irritation at the sound. The sun beat down bright and merciless on the asphalt before him. The starter stood talking to two other men. He seemed cheerful and untroubled, and Woody conceived an enormous dislike of him. Why didn't he just drop his flag and get it over with? Why stand around there chewing the fat when everybody was sitting with his nerves on edge?
The loud-speaker blared suddenly. "One minute to go," the announcer said. ”

“ Woody had never known him to be so serious before. He wasn't sure whether the conversation was being held for his own benefit or for Rocky's.
"Road racing condenses into a few minutes or hours all the problems, the fears, and the triumphs of life," Randy said, smoothing his fair hair with a thin sensitive hand. "It demands the one thing that no man can get through life without successfully. Self-reliance. There are millions of people quite talented and able who go through life being unsure of themselves. ”

“ He realized dimly that men always fight their battles alone—not just in racing cars but in their daily living. They alone can make the critical decisions, and nobody can help with them.
"How do you feel about the Black Tiger now?" Woody asked instead of mentioning his own fears.
"To be honest with you, I'm scared stiff," said Randy with a laugh. "If I wasn't scared, I might put off racing her for a little while. But if I postponed it now, though other people might say I had good reasons, I'd know that the real reason was fear. And then I might never race again." ”

“ Then a narrow waist and torso and then a long arm which fluttered upward to grasp the running board of the car. By the time he had completely emerged, Rocky was laughing.
"Do that again, please," she said. "I've never seen so much person come out from under one car before."
"Lassie," said Worm, "the Highland Scots are all big people. It's a short man in the Highlands who doesn't top six feet two inches." He said this solemnly, without anger or humor, as if he were acquainting her with a piece of interesting information of which he was proud.
"How's the Tiger?" asked Randy. ”

“ Back in the racing pits, Woody said to Steve, "Rocky doesn't seem a bit nervous."
Tom, who overheard the remark, smiled.
"She and her father have nerves of steel," he said. "Just when other people begin to get jittery, they begin to feel cool. I've been driving fifteen years now. And I can tell you there hasn't been a race yet that I didn't heartily wish myself somewhere else a few minutes before the starter brought down his flag. There they are! They're off!" ”

“ This time Woody got mad.
"There isn't any choice between you and Rocky," he said. "That's just your excuse. The choice is between you and racing. And right now, for your information, Miss Jackson, I'm choosing racing."
With that he slammed the door of the car and drove off. He hadn't gone more than a quarter of a mile before he regretted such an angry parting. He wondered whether he ought not to go back and try to patch things up. But then he recalled how mad Mary Jane had been over the money he spent on his hot rod, Cindy Lou. ”

“ Rocky explained.
"Hope you know the track," said Pete. "Lot of hero drivers have wound up on the hay bales on this one."
"What are you trying to do, scare him?" asked Rocky.
"Me? No. But that number-four turn is a pistol. Well, see you." He turned to Woody. "Good luck," he said.
"Who is he?" Woody asked when the other had gone.
"He races a lot," said Rocky. "He's a first-class driver. If you can keep him in sight, you're doing good. But he likes to go around before the race and find out what kind of competition he's up against. And if he finds a new driver he tries to throw a scare into him. ”

“ Just as in life, if he remains unsure of himself, he will quit trying and seek some job that offers security rather than opportunity."
"You don't think it is possible to get by on just driving skill alone?" asked Woody. "I mean, suppose there was a man who was just naturally a good driver. But he really didn't trust himself. Wouldn't he still show up pretty well on the track?"
"He would for a while," said Randy, "but after, say, half a dozen races, he'd be fighting himself. He might think he was racing the car ahead. But he'd really be racing the guy within him. ”

“ Mary Jane didn't interrupt once while he was talking. When he had finished, she said:
"Woody Hartford, you're the most mixed-up person I ever met. There's nothing for you to do but drive the Black Tiger. I'm surprised you can't see that yourself."
"What?" cried Woody, amazed.
"Look," Mary Jane continued. "You know how I hated the way you were always spending time and money on Cindy Lou. I still don't see that it's important for one driver to prove he can go faster than another. And I don't see that it's important for people to keep building faster cars. ”

“ How he could hear anything above the deep roar of the engine Woody could not understand. But Worm was listening as intently as any doctor to the chest of a tuberculous patient. He raised a long finger in the air, and Randy depressed the accelerator further. The Black Tiger's roar was now such that it seemed it must bring down the building. Worm nodded and took off the stethoscope as the roar of the engine died to a quiet purr again.
"It's as I thought," he said. "She's no breathing right around five thousand eight hundred. The air's no ramming through as it should. ”

“ There are eighteen other cars in the event—Jags, Ferraris, Maseratis, and a couple of Thunderbirds—and I'm going to have to keep my eye on every one of them."
"Any particular driver you're worried about?"
"At this point, I'm worried about them all," replied Randy. "Some of the boys have raced against me at Le Mans. Tom Wisdom in Ferrari number four is tops, and so is Kurt Kreuger in his Jag—I think it's number six. But as I say, I'll have to keep my eye on everybody. They're all tiptop men driving fine cars."
"Isn't he wonderful?" said Mary Jane, and Steve and Woody nodded their agreement. ”

“ Mary Jane asked.
"To tell them about the flags and the rules of racing," replied Steve. "For instance, if a flagman waves a black flag to a driver, it means that he has to go round to the pit area and get out of the race."
"Why?" asked Mary Jane.
"Any number of reasons," said Steve. "His car might be leaking gas on the track, which is real dangerous, or he might be driving so badly as to be a danger to the other drivers, or he might have deliberately fouled somebody. You can't just get into one of these cars and drive it as fast as you want without regard for anybody else. ”

“ The Jag passed him easily and so did the Mercedes, the driver flashing him a puzzled look as he went by.
Then Randy said something to him—or so it seemed. He said, "Relax. Lean back. You can't drive all crouched over the wheel." Woody leaned back against the seat. The feel of it on the back of his shoulders gave him comfort.
"You passed those boys before," said Randy's voice. "You can do it again. Try it on the S-bends. Go full bore and trust to luck. You're driving a better car than you think." ”

“ It had been tough trying to hide his fears all morning while four other races were run. He had become so nervous with everybody wishing him well and fussing over the car that he could hardly do a simple little thing like adjust his racing mirrors to get a clear view of his rear and two rear fenders.
Worm, he was sure, had noticed that he was nervous. But Worm hadn't said anything, and Woody was glad. Worm had just busied himself checking the ignition and the spark-plug gaps and taping the headlights. ”

“ Kingston's Ferrari hurtled around the bend on the inside with the Black Tiger on its tail. The big Ferrari skidded for a fraction of a second, picked up traction, and hurtled down the straightaway.
But something went wrong with the Black Tiger. The car took the corner wide, and Woody could see Randy fighting to get control. It looked as though he was going to hit the telephone pole, but he managed to miss it by inches. The car came roaring and fishtailing toward the crowd. People scattered like dust before a heavy gust of wind. ”

“ Rocky asked.
"That's right," said Woody.
"Well, it's hard to believe," she replied. "A lot of drivers I know wouldn't have got out of that four-wheel skid. If Daddy had seen that, he'd have said you didn't have to learn to drive. You were born knowing how."
"Thanks," said Woody and he could feel himself blush.
"The track is now closed," said the announcer over the loud-speaker. "Cars for the first event please come to the starting grid." ”

“ Kurt Kreuger was squatted on his heels carefully taking a cigarette to pieces. Even at a distance of several yards, Woody could see that his hands were far from steady.
"Kurt always tears paper when he's keyed up," Tom said. "I smoke cigarettes that have gone out." He took the dead cigarette from between his lips, examined it with a smile, and flicked it onto the track. ”

“ Woody overheard Tom say to Kreuger, "If it was a matter of guts alone, Randy would be sure to win. Boy, he's got more guts than all of us put together."
"You can say that again," said Kurt. He looked back at the Black Tiger and shook his big head solemnly. "Hate to say it," he said, "but that car just bothers me. Too new. Too many unknown bugs in it."
Tom nodded his head solemnly, and the two drifted off.
Randy made different pit-crew arrangements for the race than those at Torrey Pines. "Rocky and Worm stay here at the racing pit in case I develop some trouble," he said. ”

“ Any stock car will turn in about the same performance as another from the same factory."
"Tuning, driving skill, experience, and guts, that's what makes the difference," said Steve. "Wait until you see these babies race. It isn't like Indianapolis, where they just go round in a circle as hard as they can lick. Once you get into high gear at Indianapolis, you stay there until the race is over. These boys race on tracks that are full of hairpin bends, S-bends, and right-angle corners. They have to know when to shift down and when to shift up. ”

“ There's a tech inspection for the sports cars for the Torrey Pines race tonight. How about going along? Lots of cars of all kinds. Ferraris, Maseratis, Austin Healeys, Jags, TR2's. What d'ya say?"
"Mickey Mouse stuff," was Woody's reply.
"What d'ya mean, Mickey Mouse stuff?" demanded Steve.
"There isn't enough horsepower in any one of them to go over a cardboard box without changing gears," said Woody scornfully.
"I got news for you," said Steve. "One of the Type D Jags at the Le Mans race recently developed two hundred and eighty-five horsepower with a two hundred and ten cubic-inch engine. ”

“ They have special races for women, as you know, and to prove its worth the Black Tiger has to be driven in a man's race."
Woody made no reply to this other than to grunt.
"It's the old trouble," Rocky went on. "The car has got the reputation of being a killer. Nobody wants to risk driving it because it's so new. But it isn't a killer at all. I believe what Randy used to say. No cars are killers. New ones may have bugs in them that have to be found out. But that's been true of every car ever designed. Racing finds out the troubles and provides better and safer cars for people to drive. ”

“ Tom Wisdom was there in his Ferrari, and Woody could see him talking seriously to Rocky. He guessed he was asking her about Randy.
"Is this big stuff much tougher to handle than the MG's?" Woody asked when she returned.
"Some people say so. But Daddy says no. He says although they are faster and heavier, they are also more easily controlled than the light cars. Of course, a Ferrari is a lot more fun to drive than an MG. They average about a hundred and twenty around the track, including the hairpins and other bends, while an MG is doing super if it can average seventy. ”

“ Over the loud-speaker he could hear the commentator briefing the crowd on what was going to take place.
"This race," he said, "will commence with a Le Mans start. The cars are parked on one side of the track and their drivers opposite them on the other. When the starter brings down his flag, the drivers will sprint to their cars, jump in, fasten their safety belts, switch on their engines, and get going. The start, then, is a critical moment. A driver who can get under way quickly can get ahead of three or four cars he might not have a chance of passing on the track. ”

“ Worm went on. "Or are ye fixed for money? I could let ye have maybe a dollar."
"Thanks," said Woody, "but I think I've got enough."
"Weel," said Worm, "dinna spend a lot on her. Them that takes yere money aren't the housekeeping kind."
When Woody called for Mary Jane he had the whole evening planned. He'd borrowed his father's car—a '54 Merc—and was dressed in the dark blue suit that Mary Jane liked. He had spent half an hour cleaning the grease from under his fingernails, and passing a drugstore, had had the happy inspiration to buy a box of candy. ”

“ For the next two weeks Woody saw a great deal more of Rocky than he did of Mary Jane. He felt vaguely guilty about it. The business of getting the MG ready for the Hansen Dam races put him constantly in Rocky's company. They went to the tech inspection together, and Woody, with Worm's assistance, remedied the various defects in the MG that the inspectors demanded be repaired. They were minor—a new tire, a stop light that didn't work, some adjustment to the brakes so that all four wheels locked evenly, and one or two other odds and ends. ”

“ Worm looked at him sourly. "She's fixed oop as much as she's ever likely to be," he replied.
"As much as she's ever likely to be?" repeated Randy puzzled. "Is there something wrong that can't be repaired?"
"Nae," said Worm fishing for a cigarette, for whenever he got out from under a car, he saluted his liberation by lighting one. "There's naething that can't be repaired. But there's some cars, as ye well know, that hae hidden traps and faults in them. The best mechanic in the world canna find them. And I'm thinking that yon Black Tiger is one of them." ”

“ The first was to see that all the sports cars entered for the race were in perfect mechanical condition. Every feature would be checked for safety, from the seal of the gas-tank cap to the amount of tread on the tires.
"Man," he said, "they really give them the works on that safety check. They go over everything with a fine-tooth comb—safety belts, brakes, brake lights in the rear, steering-wheel play, anything dangling underneath that might give trouble—they don't miss a thing. I've seen guys ruled out because their spare tires were a little worn. ”

“ Again, if, to avoid strained relations with Mary Jane, Woody spent the money on her, it would be a long time before he would have a ten spot to spend on Cindy Lou.
"A guy with a hot rod and thirty bucks a week," Woody said to the float chamber of the carburetor, "has no right having a girl friend, too. On the other hand," he added, "a guy with a hot rod is going to wind up with a girl friend whether he wants one or not. ”

“ When Kurt had accepted it and expressed his thanks, he paused for a minute, looked around the room, and said, "Most of you people here tonight are drivers or mechanics or fans who are interested in sports-car racing. It's a new sport in the United States, but it is rapidly developing to the point where it's becoming a national sport. Its long-range results will be better cars, with more safety features and better drivers.
"Some of you guys, like me, have been in the game a long time. We know that it isn't the winner who makes the race. ”

“ Guess what?"
"What?" said Woody and he felt curiously ill at ease.
"The Italian factory that made the Black Tiger had a representative over here to look at Daddy's car. You know there are only three of them in the world. They were worried about the two accidents"—she hurried over the words—"because they gave the car a bad name. You know people have been saying that the car's a killer, and nobody can be found to drive it. Anyway, they've offered to pay the expenses of repairing the Black Tiger, and they'll provide all the new parts needed and everything if someone will race it again over here." ”

“ It's all the other competitors who are in there trying to win and their mechanics who put in a lot of unpaid work fixing up their cars. It takes just as much guts to lose a race as it does to win one. What I'm trying to say is that it's the effort that matters and the courage that goes into it. Not the result.
"In this connection, I think there's one driver here tonight who is more entitled to this trophy than I. Before I mention his name, I'll tell you something about him. He's a pretty young guy, and he's been racing something less than a year.
"He didn't drive any well-known make of car. ”