The race was over sixteen laps with a good pot for the winner at the end. Sam was working on the engine, fine-tuning it to produce the maximum speed that he’d require to beat off the competition. There was also a lot of work to do on the interior to make it safe and secure should there be a crash. The three men worked in silence each concentrating on the job in hand. Eventually, stiff and sore from so much bending, they took a break. All stretched their cramped limbs, before sitting down with a cigarette and a cup of tea. ‘Heard anything of Jake Barton?’ Sam asked. Tom shook his head. ‘No, he’s keeping a low profile these days. His garage is always under lock and key, door shut. I know because I wander past from time to time. We don’t even know what type of vehicle he’ll be driving.’ With a grin Sam said, ‘Well, it’ll have to be something special to beat this baby,’ and he patted the door of his car. Nodding his agreement, Tom remarked, ‘He’ll have a bloody fit when he sees the speed you can reach now we’ve worked on the engine.
