Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
This is why Jiminy is their best option. He’s already roadworthy. Tell them.
“It is a lifestyle, because there are rallies and races all over the country all year long,” Lucy continued before I could open my mouth. “It’s good wholesome fun for the whole family. Kids love it. Seniors love it. Even Sam loved it.”
Rick sat up straight and tense, eyeing me with concern, and Wade squeezed my knee again in comfort, but I knew this was it. This was the opening I’d been waiting for. I couldn’t have asked for a better segue and I needed to take it.
I smiled. “I know she did. And I’m about to solve all your problems and save Gene’s fragile heart in the process. You need a car? I’m volunteering Jiminy as tribute. For exactly five hundred dollars.”
“What the hell?” Wade snatched his hand from my knee like the flesh beneath my pajamas had turned into lava.
I didn’t have time to theorize why because Lucy was grabbing my French fry hand and smashing a handful between us without noticing. Which…gross.
“Sam’s mint condition, sunshine yellow, 1979 Volkswagen Beetle that’s currently parked in your driveway?” he breathed. “That Jiminy? Don’t play with desperate men, August.”
He was staring into my eyes as if searching for the joke.
“I would never do that.” I took my hand back and thoroughly wiped it with a napkin. “I’m serious.”
“Gene’s never been a big Herbie guy, but he did like the idea of Sam’s car for some reason. I think he even offered to buy it once.” Rick’s brow was furrowed in thought. “Good thing we don’t care about winning though. A car like that would barely hit eighty-two on the straightaway.”
They weren’t laughing me out of my own backyard, so things were already going better than expected. Except for Wade, who was slowly shaking his head and making me suddenly grateful I hadn’t confided in him before this conversation. It didn’t look like he was on board with my brilliant plan.
“You don’t gut a car like that for this kind of race,” he said. “You get a trash heap and dress it up.”
“It’s only a bug, man,” Rick said under his breath.
“It’s a bug with a Porsche motor, thanks to Wade and his tinkering,” Lucy corrected, his cheeks ruddy with excitement. “Sam told Gene about it years ago. That’s why he wanted to race it. A big guy in a little bug, blazing down the track at what I’d say is closer to one-twenty or better.”
Rick leaned forward, more alert now. “That might be good for a sprint, but a marathon like Lemons? We’d need to plan for problems in advance. An extra engine would be pricey. And we’d have to sandbag the front end for stability.”
Wade shot him down. “That’s a safety hazard. The suspension was already upgraded, but you could tighten the springs. Maybe add a wing to the back and widen the tires. I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.”
“The cooling system for your suits could go in the front,” Lucy threw in. “That’s almost a hundred pounds of water weight and it saves on space.”
It all sounded like gobbledygook to me. Encouraging gobbledygook.
“I don’t know what any of you are talking about,” I said. “But people drive cars like that in this race all the time. I looked it up.”
Wade turned to me. “When did you look it up?”
His eyes made it more an accusation than a question.
“Last week,” I said defiantly.
That’s right, buddy—I had a plan long before you showed up. Okay, one day before you showed up.
“Other teams have raced VWs,” Lucy agreed in a soothing tone, obviously tuned in to the tension. “And because it was souped up long before the sale, we won’t get any point deductions from the judges. They’ll put it in the y u rune classic? category and keep us in Class C with no penalty laps.”
“The what category?”
“What about Myrtle?”
Rick and Lucy glanced at Wade as if he were suffering from heatstroke.
“Myrtle’s too slow to be a racecar,” I told him.
“She would be a better one than Jiminy,” Wade argued. “A two-decade-old CRV on its last legs is more in keeping with the spirit of the race. Hell, I thought you were going to offer it earlier today.”
Lucy slid Rick a sideways look. “She named her car Myrtle?”
Did everyone have a problem with that? “It’s a great name. And I was never planning to offer you Myrtle. I can’t let you have her.”
“And I can’t let you do this to your mother’s car without giving it serious consideration.”
He did not just say that. He couldn’t let me? Like I was a child and he had any say in my decisions?
“That was a mistake, Wade,” Lucy ruled. “Trust me, I’ve been to the doghouse enough to know.”
“I have given it serious consideration,” I told Wade stiffly. “The car is in my name, and legally I can do whatever I want with it. Including sell it without needing anyone else’s permission.”