For the next two weeks Woody saw a great deal more of Rocky than he did of Mary Jane. He felt vaguely guilty about it. The business of getting the MG ready for the Hansen Dam races put him constantly in Rocky's company. They went to the tech inspection together, and Woody, with Worm's assistance, remedied the various defects in the MG that the inspectors demanded be repaired. They were minor—a new tire, a stop light that didn't work, some adjustment to the brakes so that all four wheels locked evenly, and one or two other odds and ends.
Woody had to admit to himself that he liked Rocky. As a matter of fact, the more he saw of her and the more he was with her, the more he liked her. But he also liked Mary Jane, and he wondered whether there might not be some character defect in himself, hitherto undetected, because of this. Could a guy be keen on two girls at the same time? He hadn't read much on the subject, but what little he had suggested that this was contrary to human nature. Most fellows seemed to have just one girl. Yet there he was with two and loath to give up either of them.
Rocky had all the things that Mary Jane didn't. She loved cars and would talk about them for hours. She drove like a wizard and was quite skillful when it came to making repairs. As a matter of fact, she knew more about sports cars than Woody did, though she was very tactful at concealing this.
Mary Jane, on the other hand, was more feminine. Maybe she didn't know much about cars and was somewhat averse to them. But she was more of a girl and, indeed, prettier than Rocky. Woody sometimes wished that the two could somehow be combined, for the result would have been ideal for him. Woody would hardly think of taking Rocky to a dance, nor would he think of asking Mary Jane to help take the head off an engine. Combined, he would have a girl who could go dancing and work on cars with him as well.
Steve was not a great help in this dilemma. "What you think you're doing?" he asked. "Getting together a harem?"
"If you want a punch in the nose you came to the right guy," said Woody.
"Who? Me?" said Steve innocently. "Your old pal? All I have is your welfare at heart. Just don't like to see a promising young mechanic getting dame trouble so early in his career." He skipped quickly out of the garage as Woody threw one of Worm's dirtier oil rags at him.
The matter came to a head one evening shortly before the Hansen Dam race when Woody had a date with Mary Jane.
She was tight-lipped through the dinner and Woody was careful not to talk very much about either the race or cars. When they were sitting over a dessert of sherbet, Mary Jane said suddenly, breaking an awkward silence, "Woody, are you going to race at Hansen Dam?"
"Sure," said Woody, pretending to be surprised by the question.
"I suppose Rocky has talked you into it," said Mary Jane.
"No, she didn't," Woody replied. "I'm racing her car. But she didn't do anything to persuade me. I wish I could get you to understand that I just like racing cars. It means a lot to me. It's the one thing that I really like doing."
"If you cared anything about me at all you wouldn't race," Mary Jane said, looking straight into Woody's eyes.
"Gee," said Woody, "this hasn't got anything to do with whether I care for you or not. You know I care for you. It's just that I like racing, that's all. And I've got a swell chance to race Rocky's car—"
"Don't mention that Rocky to me again," Mary Jane flared. "She's just a scalp-hunter. She's out to collect all the scalps she can. And I can see that she's already added yours to her collection." And with that Mary Jane got up and headed for the door.
Woody had a hard time paying the check in time to catch up with her. He tried to explain more to her about racing, but people kept looking at them, and even when he drove her home, he knew that she was not listening to him.
Her parting words were "You can make your choice between Rocky and me. And don't expect me to stand around weeping while you do."
This time Woody got mad.
"There isn't any choice between you and Rocky," he said. "That's just your excuse. The choice is between you and racing. And right now, for your information, Miss Jackson, I'm choosing racing."
With that he slammed the door of the car and drove off. He hadn't gone more than a quarter of a mile before he regretted such an angry parting. He wondered whether he ought not to go back and try to patch things up. But then he recalled how mad Mary Jane had been over the money he spent on his hot rod, Cindy Lou. And at the memory he gritted his teeth and drove on. It was time for a real showdown with Mary Jane, he told himself. She would either have to take him, cars and racing, or find some other guy. He wasn't going to give up his chief interest in life for Mary Jane, and he found it selfish of her to ask him to do so.
Early Saturday he was at Hansen Dam with Rocky and Steve. Rocky had raced her MG before and was well known to many of the other drivers and their crews. They drifted over to her pit and were introduced to Steve and Woody. She seemed to be very popular with the racing crowd and held in considerable respect by them. One driver in particular, a long, dark-haired youth named Pete Worth whom Woody had never seen before, seemed exceptionally friendly with Rocky. Woody decided that he didn't like the guy though he couldn't say why.
"Racing today?" Pete asked Rocky when they met.
"Of course," said Rocky. "Second race. Woody's driving the MG in number four."
"That so?" said Pete looking Woody over. "Haven't seen you on any of the tracks before. You from back east?"
"No," said Woody shortly.
"This is his first race," Rocky explained.
"Hope you know the track," said Pete. "Lot of hero drivers have wound up on the hay bales on this one."
"What are you trying to do, scare him?" asked Rocky.
"Me? No. But that number-four turn is a pistol. Well, see you." He turned to Woody. "Good luck," he said.
"Who is he?" Woody asked when the other had gone.
"He races a lot," said Rocky. "He's a first-class driver. If you can keep him in sight, you're doing good. But he likes to go around before the race and find out what kind of competition he's up against. And if he finds a new driver he tries to throw a scare into him. He's only joking, of course, but some of the boys don't like it."
"What kind of a bend is that number four?" asked Woody.
"Oh, it's not really bad," Rocky replied. "Where is that map of the course? Here it is. Look, there's a long run out, about a quarter of a mile, then a full hairpin bend back again. That's number four. The only trouble about it is that it's narrow and it's flat. No camber on it to help you get around. The thing to do is to change down at the hundred-yard mark to second and then gun her around. If you do it right, you can drift around the bend. But if you take it too wide, you'll hit the hay bales on the far side.
"Remember this. If you do leave the track, don't get back into the race until a flagman gives you a high ball. And if you spin out and your engine quits, hold both your hands up over your head as a signal to the other drivers to miss you—that is if they can.
"Tell you what. I know this track pretty well. I've raced on it twice before. The track will be open for practice in a few minutes. Why don't you take the MG and get in five or six laps to familiarize yourself with the turns? It'll help a lot."
"Gee, thanks," said Woody. He climbed into the MG and settled behind the wheel.
"Fasten your safety belt and take this," said Rocky. She handed him a heavy white crash helmet. "Here," she said, "I'll fasten it for you." Her fingers, when they touched the side of his face to fasten the chin strap, seemed cool and comforting.
Woody gave a little wave of his hand, put the racing goggles from his helmet down over his eyes, and drove the MG from the pit to the starting area of the track. A flagman signaled him to stop, and five cars, all in a huddle, zipped past. Then came two more. The flagman waved his arm and Woody swept out onto the track. He revved the MG up, and she took off so fast that he could feel himself pressed back against the seat. There was an angry roar from behind and a Singer stormed past him. Woody started to move over to the left instinctively. In the same instant a Porsche Speedster swept by him on the left.
"Cripes," said Woody to himself, "I'd almost forgotten. They pass any side they want to."
He felt his knees shaking a little from nervousness, and his hands were a little unsteady on the wheel. Then he thought of Rocky watching him, changed from second to third and third to high and blasted down the track after the two cars.
There was a corner in front of him before he realized it. It seemed to be hurled out of space toward him. He dropped down into third, revving up for a second in neutral. He heard a tire scream as he pulled the steering wheel over to the left. The MG picked up a rear wheel skid, careened over to her right a little, scrabbled around the corner, and was off again. But Woody had hardly time to congratulate himself before there was another bend ahead. Again he changed down, braking hard to do so. He turned the wheel to the right, hit the accelerator, and with a car on either side of him, skated, his rear wheel protesting, round the bend.
"So that's how it's done," he said. "You slam on the brakes, change down, rev her hard, pick up a rear wheel skid, and get around." He began to feel a little more confident.
His confidence was nearly wrecked, however, when he came to bend number four. A series of signs before it marked off the distances from the hairpin; two hundred yards, one hundred yards, and fifty yards. He remembered Rocky's advice and changed down at a hundred. But he was still going too fast when he entered the hairpin. He picked up a four-wheel drift, and the steering wheel spun around crazily between his hands. Woody hit the accelerator hard three or four times and turned the steering wheel in the direction in which he was skidding. A monument of hay bales, stacked around a concrete telephone pole, loomed before him. Then they flew past, the steering wheel steadied, and he was off down the straight again.
He made five laps before he decided that he was at all familiar with the course.
"You did swell," said Steve when he got back to the pits. "But, boy, for a moment I thought you were going to wind up among the hay bales."
"Didn't you tell me that you'd never raced before?" Rocky asked.
"That's right," said Woody.
"Well, it's hard to believe," she replied. "A lot of drivers I know wouldn't have got out of that four-wheel skid. If Daddy had seen that, he'd have said you didn't have to learn to drive. You were born knowing how."
"Thanks," said Woody and he could feel himself blush.
"The track is now closed," said the announcer over the loud-speaker. "Cars for the first event please come to the starting grid.”