Read Online Collision Course by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Ads: Link
lot of willpower for Joe to decline Scott's offer, and he was proud of him. "Oh, go ahead," he urged his brother. "I'll meet you back at the van. I want to see if I can find that writer, T. B. Martin, and ask him a few more questions."
Joe didn't need any more encouragement. He put one hand on the roll bar and the other on the screen, stepped into the cockpit, and slid into the seat. Scott reached in and grabbed the metal catch-plate attached to the "antisub-gprine" straps—the straps that come up between driver's legs. Then he helped Joe buckle in the two shoulder harnesses and both ends of the belt. The catch-plate connected all the straps together, like a six-pointed star, right over Joe's face.
Joe shifted his weight around to get comfortable in the half-sitting, half-lying position and Stared at the dizzying array of controls. "How come all these gauges are tilted?" he asked.
'We rotate them," Scott pointed out, "so the feedles point straight up at optimum levels."
'Okay." Joe nodded, scanning the dials. "I think I've got it." But something was missing. '"Hey," he said, frowning, "Where's the speedometer?"
Scott laughed. "The only speed we worry about is the other guy's. If he's going faster than you are, then you aren't going fast enough. But today let's take it nice and slow," Scott cautioned. "These monsters aren't exactly designed for idling. If you let your RPMs drop too low, it'll stall. So you'll have to kind of roll your foot between the brake and the accelerator, braking and revving the engine at the same time, okay?"
"Uh - huh." Joe nodded eagerly. "Here goes nothing."
Joe pushed in the clutch with his left foot, gripped the stick shift with his right hand, and shoved it into the first-gear position. With his right foot on the gas pedal, he watched the tachometer needle jump as he revved the engine. Then he eased his left foot off the clutch, and the car lurched into gear. .
Frank saw his brother give him a thumbs-up as he steered the race car onto the road. Scott Lavin turned to him and said, "He's pretty good. Most guys stall out the first time they get behind the wheel."
"Joe's a fast learner," Frank replied. He started to walk away but turned back when he heard a shout rise up from the small cluster of spectators. Looking around to see what had caused the commotion, Frank saw a few people standing up, pointing down the road.
A black cloud began to billow over the race course. The trail of acrid smoke led down to a burning vehicle, and Frank could see that it was the same color as the flames that engulfed it - yellow and red.
Horror crept up on Frank as he realized slowly it was Scott's car and Joe was still in it!
Chapter 10
Joe Hardy had just been starting to get the feel of the race car when he heard a muffled explosion in the loud thrum of the engine behind him. His eyes darted from one side mirror to the other, but both showed him the same thing — billowing smoke and flame.
Joe didn't panic. He slammed on the brakes, reached down with his right hand, and hit the fire extinguisher release switch. Within seconds, he knew, the cockpit would be sprayed with a layer of fire-retardant chemicals, giving him time to get out safely. But nothing happened.
He hit the switch again. Still nothing. "Great," he muttered. "No protective clothes, no fire extinguisher—and no time! I've got to get out now or I'll end up the main course at a first class cookout!"
Joe slapped the release button on the rest straps, threw the shoulder harness back over his head, and grabbed the lip of the cockpit to pull himself out. "Yarrghh!" he screamed in pain, wrenching his hands away from the searing metal.
He was trapped! He was wedged so tightly in the tiny space that he couldn't move without using his hands and arms for leverage. "No pain, no gain." He grimaced, psyching himself up to take hold of the burning metal and pull himself free.
Joe reached out with both hands—and felt a cool mist pour down on
Joe didn't need any more encouragement. He put one hand on the roll bar and the other on the screen, stepped into the cockpit, and slid into the seat. Scott reached in and grabbed the metal catch-plate attached to the "antisub-gprine" straps—the straps that come up between driver's legs. Then he helped Joe buckle in the two shoulder harnesses and both ends of the belt. The catch-plate connected all the straps together, like a six-pointed star, right over Joe's face.
Joe shifted his weight around to get comfortable in the half-sitting, half-lying position and Stared at the dizzying array of controls. "How come all these gauges are tilted?" he asked.
'We rotate them," Scott pointed out, "so the feedles point straight up at optimum levels."
'Okay." Joe nodded, scanning the dials. "I think I've got it." But something was missing. '"Hey," he said, frowning, "Where's the speedometer?"
Scott laughed. "The only speed we worry about is the other guy's. If he's going faster than you are, then you aren't going fast enough. But today let's take it nice and slow," Scott cautioned. "These monsters aren't exactly designed for idling. If you let your RPMs drop too low, it'll stall. So you'll have to kind of roll your foot between the brake and the accelerator, braking and revving the engine at the same time, okay?"
"Uh - huh." Joe nodded eagerly. "Here goes nothing."
Joe pushed in the clutch with his left foot, gripped the stick shift with his right hand, and shoved it into the first-gear position. With his right foot on the gas pedal, he watched the tachometer needle jump as he revved the engine. Then he eased his left foot off the clutch, and the car lurched into gear. .
Frank saw his brother give him a thumbs-up as he steered the race car onto the road. Scott Lavin turned to him and said, "He's pretty good. Most guys stall out the first time they get behind the wheel."
"Joe's a fast learner," Frank replied. He started to walk away but turned back when he heard a shout rise up from the small cluster of spectators. Looking around to see what had caused the commotion, Frank saw a few people standing up, pointing down the road.
A black cloud began to billow over the race course. The trail of acrid smoke led down to a burning vehicle, and Frank could see that it was the same color as the flames that engulfed it - yellow and red.
Horror crept up on Frank as he realized slowly it was Scott's car and Joe was still in it!
Chapter 10
Joe Hardy had just been starting to get the feel of the race car when he heard a muffled explosion in the loud thrum of the engine behind him. His eyes darted from one side mirror to the other, but both showed him the same thing — billowing smoke and flame.
Joe didn't panic. He slammed on the brakes, reached down with his right hand, and hit the fire extinguisher release switch. Within seconds, he knew, the cockpit would be sprayed with a layer of fire-retardant chemicals, giving him time to get out safely. But nothing happened.
He hit the switch again. Still nothing. "Great," he muttered. "No protective clothes, no fire extinguisher—and no time! I've got to get out now or I'll end up the main course at a first class cookout!"
Joe slapped the release button on the rest straps, threw the shoulder harness back over his head, and grabbed the lip of the cockpit to pull himself out. "Yarrghh!" he screamed in pain, wrenching his hands away from the searing metal.
He was trapped! He was wedged so tightly in the tiny space that he couldn't move without using his hands and arms for leverage. "No pain, no gain." He grimaced, psyching himself up to take hold of the burning metal and pull himself free.
Joe reached out with both hands—and felt a cool mist pour down on
Similar Books
