Read Online Collision Course by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
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feeling pretty confident."
Voss's smile quickly faded. "I learned much from Angus," he said quietly. "I will miss him — and I will also miss the chance to beat him. It is good to win, but better to win against the best." "Do you really think you could have beaten him?" Frank asked. "He was getting old," Voss replied bluntly.
"Maybe I would not have beaten him here. But next year I would drive for Ferrari."
"You're leaving McCoy Racing?" Joe cut in.
"Yes," Voss said. "As long as I stayed with Angus I would have been number two, always getting the second-best equipment. So when Ferrari offered me their number-one slot, I jumped. This is my last race for McCoy. Maybe I can leave the team with a small victory. It should not be too hard."
Frank gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"
"This is an exhibition race," Voss explained. "Most teams are here just to test out new equipment. Some of the top drivers are not even here. This is the kind of race that gives the younger drivers a chance."
"Like Scott Lavin?" Frank suggested.
"Why, yes," Voss agreed. "A win here would look very good for Scott."
The Hardys looked at each other as the German driver climbed into the cockpit of his car and put on his crash helmet. Joe knew what Frank was thinking.
The powerful engine roared to life, and Frank put his fingers in his ears. Joe leaned into the cockpit and tapped the top of the driver's helmet. Voss flipped up the visor and cocked his head in Joe's direction. Joe cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "But Scott's out of the race, right? His engine's no good!"
In response, Voss shrugged his shoulders in the confined space and jerked his right thumb over is shoulder, pointing behind him. Then he inched the accelerator, the tires screamed and spun in protest, and the race car swerved out onto the roadway and took off down the course.
Joe and Frank both turned in the direction Voss had pointed and saw the familiar yellow-and-red Formula One barreling down the course, heading straight at them.
The Hardys jumped back as Scott Lavin's car screeched to a halt right next to them. Scott was laughing as he took off his helmet. He shut down the engine and squirmed out of the cockpit, handing the crash helmet to Joe as he climbed over the side of the car.
"We're back in the race, Joe!" Scott exclaimed. "When I got the police call and came down to the garage last night, I thought it was all over. But we worked all night and half the morning to fix the engine."
Joe was staring at the ground, his hands stuffed in his hip pockets, waiting for the bomb to drop. The police report would have put Frank and Joe in the scene, and Scott was bound to want some answers. Joe swallowed hard. "About last night," he began.
"If it weren't for you guys," Scott interrupted, 'we never could have pulled it off." "Huh?" Joe mumbled. Frank kicked him, signaling him to shut up.
"I don't know how you did it, but a cop named Riley said you guys reported the breakin and chased off whoever did it before he could do any real damage.
"Anyway," Scott continued, starting to climb back into the race car, "I just wanted to say thanks." He paused with one leg in the cockpit! and the other on the ground. Then he looked at Joe and said, "Say, since you're already holding the helmet, why don't you put it on and drive this baby back to the shed?"
Joe's mouth dropped open. He could barely believe what he was hearing. Ever since he could remember, he had loved cars. He was the first person in line to get his driver's license. It seemed he had waited half his life for it. Now he was I actually getting a chance to drive the ultimate racing machine.
But as badly as Joe wanted to get behind the wheel, he remembered his promise to his brother. They had agreed to stick together, and Joe wasn't about to let a car come between Frank and him. "Thanks, anyway, Scott," Joe said, shaking his head. "But I don't think so. We've got stuff to do."
Frank knew that it took a
Voss's smile quickly faded. "I learned much from Angus," he said quietly. "I will miss him — and I will also miss the chance to beat him. It is good to win, but better to win against the best." "Do you really think you could have beaten him?" Frank asked. "He was getting old," Voss replied bluntly.
"Maybe I would not have beaten him here. But next year I would drive for Ferrari."
"You're leaving McCoy Racing?" Joe cut in.
"Yes," Voss said. "As long as I stayed with Angus I would have been number two, always getting the second-best equipment. So when Ferrari offered me their number-one slot, I jumped. This is my last race for McCoy. Maybe I can leave the team with a small victory. It should not be too hard."
Frank gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"
"This is an exhibition race," Voss explained. "Most teams are here just to test out new equipment. Some of the top drivers are not even here. This is the kind of race that gives the younger drivers a chance."
"Like Scott Lavin?" Frank suggested.
"Why, yes," Voss agreed. "A win here would look very good for Scott."
The Hardys looked at each other as the German driver climbed into the cockpit of his car and put on his crash helmet. Joe knew what Frank was thinking.
The powerful engine roared to life, and Frank put his fingers in his ears. Joe leaned into the cockpit and tapped the top of the driver's helmet. Voss flipped up the visor and cocked his head in Joe's direction. Joe cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "But Scott's out of the race, right? His engine's no good!"
In response, Voss shrugged his shoulders in the confined space and jerked his right thumb over is shoulder, pointing behind him. Then he inched the accelerator, the tires screamed and spun in protest, and the race car swerved out onto the roadway and took off down the course.
Joe and Frank both turned in the direction Voss had pointed and saw the familiar yellow-and-red Formula One barreling down the course, heading straight at them.
The Hardys jumped back as Scott Lavin's car screeched to a halt right next to them. Scott was laughing as he took off his helmet. He shut down the engine and squirmed out of the cockpit, handing the crash helmet to Joe as he climbed over the side of the car.
"We're back in the race, Joe!" Scott exclaimed. "When I got the police call and came down to the garage last night, I thought it was all over. But we worked all night and half the morning to fix the engine."
Joe was staring at the ground, his hands stuffed in his hip pockets, waiting for the bomb to drop. The police report would have put Frank and Joe in the scene, and Scott was bound to want some answers. Joe swallowed hard. "About last night," he began.
"If it weren't for you guys," Scott interrupted, 'we never could have pulled it off." "Huh?" Joe mumbled. Frank kicked him, signaling him to shut up.
"I don't know how you did it, but a cop named Riley said you guys reported the breakin and chased off whoever did it before he could do any real damage.
"Anyway," Scott continued, starting to climb back into the race car, "I just wanted to say thanks." He paused with one leg in the cockpit! and the other on the ground. Then he looked at Joe and said, "Say, since you're already holding the helmet, why don't you put it on and drive this baby back to the shed?"
Joe's mouth dropped open. He could barely believe what he was hearing. Ever since he could remember, he had loved cars. He was the first person in line to get his driver's license. It seemed he had waited half his life for it. Now he was I actually getting a chance to drive the ultimate racing machine.
But as badly as Joe wanted to get behind the wheel, he remembered his promise to his brother. They had agreed to stick together, and Joe wasn't about to let a car come between Frank and him. "Thanks, anyway, Scott," Joe said, shaking his head. "But I don't think so. We've got stuff to do."
Frank knew that it took a
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