Lucky Seven
Page 9
“Lane eight, twenty-five laps,” called the race director. “Lane seven, twenty-four. Lane six, twenty-four. Lane five, twenty-two. Lane four, twenty-three. Lane three, twenty-three. Lane two, twenty-three. Lane one, twenty-one.”
Lane three, twenty-three. That’s me! thought Chick. That’s my Stingray!
The Ferrari spun out at the underpass. “Track!”
Round and round…
And then, at the first hairpin, the Stingray spun out.
“Track!”
“Oh, no!” cried Chick.
The spinout helped the other cars to gain at least a section or two on him. He had to gain them back, and more.
“Thumbs down! One! Two! Three!”
Chick tried to concentrate on the race now more than ever. The controller was like a torch in his sweating hand. Sweat beaded his forehead, dripped into his eyes. He wiped it away.
“Car in lane four completes fifty laps,” announced the race director. “Lane eight, forty-eight. Lane seven, forty-seven. Lane six, forty-five. Lane five, forty-three. Lane three, forty-five. Lane two, forty-four. Lane one, forty-nine.”
Lane seven, forty-seven laps. That’s Jack Harmon’s, thought Chick. And I’ve got forty-five. Come on, Stingie! Watch the curve! Up with the thumb! Now down! That’s it! Thumb up again! That second curve comes awfully fast. Pump the plunger! Down with the thumb to the underpass! Up! Down again around the S! Watch that tail! Don’t let it spin out!
There! Made it! Down the long straight-away along the wall. Then the sweeper. Keep it down! Down! Was that a green Ford you passed? Never mind! Keep going, and keep your eyes open.
Round and round…
One hundred laps…
“… lane seven, ninety-four!”
“… lane three, ninety-two!”
Chick heard the other announcements but he was mostly interested in those two. Jack Harmon’s and his.
One hundred and fifty laps…
“… lane seven, one hundred and forty-five!” Jack’s gained a little! “… lane three, one hundered and forty-four!”
One lap behind!
Round and round…
A car spun out at the sweeper and went tumbling over the side. “Track!” A momentary delay as a turn marshal went to pick it up. The white sticker on it read 1. It was one of the leaders.
“Too bad,” said the turn marshal. “Motor’s busted.”
Round and round…
“Car in lane four, one hundred and ninety laps. Lane eight, one hundred seventy-nine. Lane seven, one hundred eighty. Lane six, one hundred sixty-two. Lane five, one hundred seventy-eight. Lane three,” Chick listened hard, “one hundred eighty.”
He was tied with Jack! He didn’t listen any further. Come on, Stingie! Come on!
He was even with Jack’s Chaparral coming down the sweeper and along the straightaway. At the first hairpin Jack edged by him. He held the lead going to the second curve. At the underpass the Stingray caught up and stayed even with the Chaparrel going down the straightaway to the sweeper. Coming down the stretch the Stingray gained a half a section! By the time it was on the top straightaway again it was two sections ahead!
Round and round…
“One hundred ninety-nine! TWO HUNDRED!”
The Main Event was over.
Chick laid the controller aside and stretched his aching fingers and thumb.
“The winner! Lane four, Frank Spry! Second prize winner, lane three, Chick Gro-ver!” That’s all he wanted to know. He didn’t listen any further.
Ken Jason and Butch Slade slapped him heartily on the back. “Nice going, Chick!” they cried enthusiastically.
“Thanks, guys,” he said shakily.
A hand grabbed his and shook it hard. Jack Harmon wore a smile a mile wide. “Congratulations, Chick! You were great!”
His heart was pumping. He was trembling all over. He felt great.
“Thanks, Jack. How—how did you do?”
“Didn’t you hear? I came in third.”
“Guess we both have a couple of hot bombs.”
“It’s not only the bombs,” said Jack. “Well, I don’t want to sound like a braggart, but it’s the man at the controllers too. You have a smart thumb, Chick. And most important of all you didn’t get rattled.”
“I would’ve lost if I had,” said Chick. “You knew it, too.”
“Yes, I did.” Jack shrugged. “I’m sorry about that. I hope you believe me.”
“I do.”
Chick was given a gold ribbon and a five-dollar gift certificate entitling him to purchase merchandise at Mort’s Pit Stop. Jack was given a blue ribbon with a two-dollar gift certificate.
Chick thought a while, then held the envelope containing the gift certificate to Ken. “Here, for giving me that Stingray body.”
Ken’s eyes popped. “You crazy? You earned it! It’s yours!”
“But you gave me the body. And you never took a cent for it. Please, Ken, take it.”
Ken pushed it away. “Not on your life. You fixed up the Stingray from scratch. You deserve every bit of your winnings yourself.”
“Boy, have you changed,” said Jack. “Like Ken says, keep your winnings. You earned every bit of it.”
“Then let’s have a team,” suggested Chick. “The four of us.”
“Now you’re talking sense!” Jack exclaimed. “We’ll scratch-build models. You can be our chief designer. Okay?”
Chick laughed. “Okay! Great! Let’s go home and get started.”
Model Racing Car Glossary
chassis: car’s frame, suspension system, axles, wheels and tires.
color dots: round dots attached to hood of car to identify its lane.
controller: a plunger (thumb-operated), or a trigger, that supplies power to a slot car’s motor.
deslotting: the flag, or guide, leaving the slot, thereby stopping the car.
doughnut: loop on track.
Epoxy: adhesive cement.
ess (or s) bend: S-shaped curve of the track.
flag: guide that fits into slot and steers the car.
frame: the structure of the car that supports the motor, body, suspension system and slot guide.
full throttle point: fast area on track.
goop the tires: running tires over a pad of oil of wintergreen or other additive for traction.
Grand Prix: same as Formula 1. Slim, single-seat, open cockpit cars without fenders.
GT (Gran Turismo): Italian for Grand Touring. An enclosed type of racing car.
hot thumb: name given to thumb depressing controller lever.
nerfing: when a car sidewinds at a curve and strikes another car, causing it to leave the track.
race director (or marshal): man who starts and directs the race, using a stopwatch for timing. He has complete authority over race events. He arranges the events, appoints the officials and enforces the rules.
spin-out: deslotting of a racing car’s flag as car turns a corner at too high a speed.
straight: a straightaway on the track.
sweeper: a wide, sweeping, high-speed turn.
“Thumbs down!”: thumb lever is depressed by all participants to start race. When all thumbs are down the director signals “Go!” and either he or the manager turns on the switch.
“Thumbs up!”: warning call for beginning of race to insure all thumbs are away from controller for a fair start.
“Track!”: call made by race director, or a turn marshal, when a car goes onto another lane, leaps over railing or deslots and hits another car.
turn marshal: man stationed at turns of the raceway during a race. He shouts “Track!” when a car. He then replaces the car on the track, or removes it altogether, depending on the type of race.
LUCKY SEVEN
SPORTS STORIES BY
MATT CHRISTOPHER
Matt Christopher’s sports books have long been popular and enjoyed by countless readers; now seven of his sports stories, most of them previously published
in periodicals, have been gathered together in this book.
Here are highly readable sagas of football, baseball, hockey, and the new pastime of slot-car racing. The stories are full of colorful young heroes, such as Tim, who couldn’t seem to make himself into a goalie; Rusty, who didn’t want to play any position except quarterback; and Jerry, who suddenly discovered that quarterback was just the right spot. Readers should be intrigued by the mechanisms of slot-car racing and will laugh as they discover how George Maxwell Jones almost makes it to the big leagues.
These tales are all marked by Matt Christopher’s ability to evoke fast-moving action in stories told on an easy-reading level.
Shortstop From Tokyo
by Matt Christopher
If it hadn’t been for Sam Suzuki, Stogie Crane would have started for the Mohawks this year as shortstop. Stogie thought it was somehow unfair that Sam could arrive in this country from Japan and almost immediately take over a position Stogie wanted badly.
Stogie tried not to become resentful of Sam’s success, but somehow the bitterness he felt kept showing. And when Sam’s glove was found torn and ruined in Stogie’s yard, it looked as though the two would never be friends. This story of boys working out their differences on the field and off will satisfy young, competitive sport fans.
Illustrated by Harvey Kidder
SPORTS BOOKS
BY MATT CHRISTOPHER
BASEBALL BOOKS
The Lucky Baseball Bat
Baseball Pals
Two Strikes on Johnny
Little Lefty
Long Stretch at First Base
Challenge at Second Base
Baseball Flyhawk
Catcher with a Glass Arm
Too Hot to Handle
The Reluctant Pitcher
Miracle at the Plate
The Year Mom Won the Pennant
Hard Drive to Short
Shortstop From Tokyo
BASKETBALL BOOKS
Basketball Sparkplug
Break for the Basket
Tall Man in the Pivot
Sink It, Rusty
Long Shot for Paul
The Basket Counts
FOOTBALL BOOKS
Touchdown for Tommy
Crackerjack Halfback
Counterfeit Tackle
The Team That Couldn’t Lose
Catch That Pass!
HOCKEY BOOKS
Wingman on Ice
Lucky Seven: Sports Stories by Matt Christopher