Before Video Games – Jan CW Entry

Here for the all knowing judges consideration is my humble offering for Januarys CW competition.

While da rool was no less than 1000 words. I noticed there was no upper restriction. Here in the region of 7020 words is my tale of derring do on the theme of Marking Time.

Before Video Games

Jimmy was a good kid, no mathematician or literary giant, he had a flair for just making things work.

With no distractions such as multi channel TV, play stations or PCs, Jimmy did what came naturally to kids his age, he made his own entertainment. On non-school days, weather permitting, he was out of the house early and seldom seen until tea-time. He was always back before Dad got home, otherwise stern words from Mam would follow. They were the rules and life on the whole was fair.

So it was one sunny Saturday in May 1978. Up with the birds, Jimmy had a bowl of cornflakes with Dad. “Where you off to today then son?”

“Dunno Dad, we might go up to the hills and make some gliders or there’s the beach. I’ll see if George has thought of anything when I call round his house.”

“Aye, well be careful Jimmy and make sure you’re in for tea or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Aye Dad a will.”

With that Jimmy dumped his bowl and spoon in the sink, pulled on his old trainers and was out the door with a hurried “Bye Mam!” as it slammed. He hopped on the trusty old Grifter he had rescued from the tip last winter.

Thinking back, he was amazed that someone had thrown it away, they must have been crackers!. He half wheeled, half carried it home like treasure trove. In the shed there were some puncture repair kits, spare spokes, bearings and chain parts Jimmy had acquired over the years. All this bike needed was a new inner tube for the back, a repair on the front and some extra ball bearings in the pedal crank. He checked his reserves of pocket money and didn’t need pen and paper to realise he was 30p shy of a new tube. It was a Sunday anyway and no shops were open, it would just have to wait. He got to work with some steel wool and a wire brush getting the worst of the rust off the frame and wheel rims. Over the next few nights, a few coats of Jenolite, enamel paint, some coloured insulation tape,  axle grease, 3-in-1 oil and plenty of elbow had the Grifter almost ready to ride. It had Sturmey Archer 3-speed gears which were selected by a twist grip just like a motorbike throttle. Friday was pocket money day and Jimmy had tidied the shed for an extra 20p to make sure he had enough to buy the inner tube that Saturday morning. By Saturday afternoon he was up in the hills flying over jumps and skidding along mud tracks. The chunky tyres, never seen on a push bike before were great on this stuff.

Jimmy found himself at Matty’s front door, he had pedalled the mile here on autopilot while remembering the fun he had fixing up the bike. He rapped quietly on the sitting room window. Often, Mr Mather would have a lie in on a Saturday and Matty would get a yelling at or worse if there was a clatter of the letter box. As ever, he was ready to go, he pulled an old Raleigh racer out of the back garden. It had been his brothers and was way too big for him, Matty was a short kid and if he braked too hard sometimes he slid off the saddle and crippled himself on the crossbar. It had five gears though and when they were on the flat, Matty could easily beat the Grifter on speed. Without saying much they set off in the direction of Georges house. George was the posh kid of the gang. His Dad was a telly repair man and had a hut full of really cool electronics stuff. He also had a massive train layout in the loft which the boys often used when the weather was bad and they had no choice but to ‘play in’. George’s place had a telephone line which they didn’t have to share with any of the neighbours and one of the new Trim-phones with the electronic ringtones and push-button dial. He was the brains of the outfit for sure and was always good at maths and science stuff. He used to get 3 times as much pocket money as the others so was often the bank too.

“Where we going today then?” asked Jimmy

“Dunno!” from Matty

“Look at this!” said George holding out a copy of yesterdays Gazette. There was going to be a soapbox derby on Fowler Street in July. There would be prizes for the fastest and funniest carts. “I think we should enter.” said George.

Matty’s face lit up, he knew he was the speed freak of the three and would definitely be the driver, Jimmy was already running the mechanics of it in his head.

“We’ll need to do the scrap pile for the stuff. I want an old pram base the ones with the springs and the very thin spoked wheels with the solid rubber tyres. We’ll need lots of wood and somewhere to test it.”

“Thought of that.” said George “Kyffin View.”

“Bloody hell!” said Matty “You’d better make sure the brakes work Jimmy, that’s a main road at the bottom of Kyffin. Good and steep though and next to no cars, I’m up for it.. Have you still got your brothers old crash helmet George?”

“Just there in the shed, I polished the visor and put some new stickers on it last night.”

“What’re we waiting for then?” Jimmy asked excitedly “Let’s get down the scrappy!”

George wheeled his Chopper SE out of the garage, it had mag-alloy wheels, T shift gears and rear drum brakes. It was shiny and new but he was never snobby about his stuff and would share his last halfpenny without a second thought. Matty and Jimmy never bothered about it, George’s Dad was rich, so what?

The boys chattered away as they pedalled the 2 miles to the Harton scrap yard. Not so much a yard as a semi official fly tipping site, there were no fences or patrols just a big pile of junk which most people added to and some subtracted from.

George explained the science of gravity and acceleration and the need to be streamlined. Jimmy knew he wanted thin tyres; he didn’t understand surface friction, he just knew thinner wheels went quicker. That’s why they put them on racers like Matty’s. He wanted stiff steering for high speed and something to do the braking, a wooden block against the tyre would be useless, this called for some proper bike brakes.

George spotted it first, a Silver Cross pram base with 24” wheels on wafer thin, grey rubber tyres, just a few specks of rust on the chrome and no bent spokes, what a result! Jimmy poured over the booty while George and Matty raced off for more goodies. It wasn’t long before they returned with two old racing bike frames with mangled wheels and bent rusty forks. Jimmy gave them the once over, discarding Georges offering immediately. Centre pull brakes wouldn’t do for what he had in mind. Matty’s bike showed promise. Two reasonably sound, side pull brakes with plenty of meat still on the blocks and clean bowden cables. Jimmy grunted in appreciation and got to work removing the spares while the other two bounded away for more. Jimmy yelled after them, “Bring me anything with nuts and bolts on it and if you find an old canoe fetch that an’all!”

The pram base made a good trolley to transport their salvage. Matty had come up trumps with an old pedal car, some stiff sheet plastic and loads of bolts washers and nuts in old coffee jars. George was no slouch either, padded seat, brake levers and a pair of wing mirrors off a Cortina by the looks of them. Perched on top of their hoard was a bright red, fibre glass canoe a short one like they used in the public baths. It had a gaping hole in the bottom but the boys weren’t planning on paddling anywhere.

It was gone 2pm by the time they had stashed all the stuff behind Jimmy’s shed, “Where do we start then Jimmy? “ asked Matty.

“Gonna need some drawings and a plan first, I have most of it in my head but it helps to draw it all out. Before that we need to work out where to build it. It’ll have to be here somewhere, I have all the tools. But the shed’s full and I don’t want to leave it out in the rain. I’d better ask Mam if we can use the bit behind the shed. Do you guys want some pop?”

While George and Matty sipped their cream soda, Jimmy told his Mam all about the derby. Jimmy’s parents were used to the boys schemes by now. At least they weren’t out causing trouble and this way they would be within calling range if needed to run an errand. “As long as you tidy up after yourselves and don’t go making a racket all day!”

“OK Mam we won’t.” With that Jimmy went out to get the others organised.

An old tarpaulin was stretched neatly between the shed and the back fence to give cover from the rain. There was a bit of privet hedge to clear out and a quick sweep needed but fairly soon they were in business. Jimmy gave them a rough idea of what he had in mind using a bit of old plywood as a board and some chalk. The others nodded excitedly and were itching to get building. Jimmy wanted to draw up the plans first and they should all agree on the look, especially Matty, he was going to have to ride the thing down Kyffin.

It never occurred to the boys how well they worked together, Matty the daredevil comic always ready with a joke and a laugh, Jimmy the practical builder with a natural ability to just make stuff and George the clever one with all the ideas and a good slice of the funds to be fair. Teatime was fast approaching, Jimmy said he would do the plans that night and they could make a start in the morning, George and Matty pedalled off excited about the latest adventure.

Jimmy nattered constantly to his amused Mam and Dad during tea about the plans for the cart.  After the meal Jimmy went up to his room and set out his drawing stuff.  The canoe would make a good race car shape but was way too flimsy to bolt stuff onto. No, the chassis was going to have to be wood so he started there. He was worried about the steering though. Normal carts had a front axle that turned on the centreline. That was OK for kids stuff, but this had to be fast. Jimmy knew that if he wanted to go fast on his skateboard he had to stiffen up the trucks to stop it wobbling, so he did the same on his plan. The width of the cart was set by the width of the pram axles, he decided to mount the axles on top of the chassis so it was low down, just like Emerson Fittipaldi’s JPS Lotus.

He was creating a low centre of gravity but didn’t understand why; he just knew fast cars were low down. George was very clear that it had to be smooth so the air didn’t slow it down, that was why he had the canoe. The brakes were very important if Matty was going to stop before the main road. Jimmy decided they were his next priority. Matty would be snug inside the canoe so he would not be able to plant his feet down to stop. At the speeds Jimmy was hoping for, that would never work anyway. Foot brakes were out because the feet were used to help steer the front axle, he chose two lever brakes on a straight handlebar which would be mounted under Matty’s knees, Ropes could run forward to give good steering control. The cables from the hand brakes would lead to the side-pull brakes they had found, they would be adjusted to clamp directly on to the rims of the rear wheels. They could use some of the plastic sheet to smooth the air over the brakes and rear wheels. After 3 hours of solid scribbling, he had the basic plans sketched out. His measurements looked right but if there were any errors (unlikely) they would iron them out on the build. Happy with his design and excited about making a start in the morning, he said ‘Goodnight’ to his parents who were downstairs watching snooker on TV and settled down to his book on Star Wars and some sleep. Big day tomorrow Jimmy.

Matty and George showed up at 8 o’clock in the morning itching to get started, Jimmy had been out since 7:30 pinning up his drawings and laying out one or two key components. If they were going to build this thing together he had to get them to understand and agree with his design completely. Matty didn’t understand why he would be using his feet to steer as well as the handlebar; Jimmy explained that his feet were there to steady the steering and the bar to control it. Jimmy didn’t know he was talking about damping; it just seemed to make sense. There would be design issues and fixes to overcome, but they would deal with those if and when they turned up. It was way too early on a Sunday morning  to make noise so they worked on the relatively quiet tasks until people were up and about. After 10 or so progress was swift, Jimmy oversaw the technical details in between building the steering bar and brakes, while George and Matty used saws hammers and various fixing devices as directed by the Guvnor. Come lunchtime, the chassis was cut to size, rear axle mounted, seat in place, brake system fitted and the front axle ready to go on. Jimmy cut some leather washers to go between the flat washers of the steering bar. This meant that the tighter he did up the pivot bolt, the harder it would be to move the steering. Simple but effective. There was a convenient water mark all round the bottom of the canoe so Jimmy set the others to work sawing along it. Once they had the bottom off they could trim it and the chassis to fit. That was the tricky bit and it took them best part of the afternoon. Simple ‘L’ brackets front and back fastened the ‘body’ to the cart. There was just enough time to sit Matty inside and make some adjustments before Mam called  Jimmy to get cleaned up in time for tea. They stood back and admired their handiwork. Sure it looked a bit shabby right now but with some final tweaks and a lick of paint they knew it would be superb. They all knew because Jimmy designed it. They covered the cart over with a dust sheet, tidied away their tools and rubbish and headed off for home. Tomorrow after school would be the first test.

Kyffin view was the next street over from Jimmy’s so there wasn’t far to push the cart. Traffic was nonexistent and the weather good. On the way Matty tested the brakes and got used to the steering, he was desperate to see what this thing could do. At the top of the hill Jimmy and George looked down for about three quarters of a mile to the main road at the bottom. They were both nervous as hell about the run, but fearless Matty was itching to start. The rules allowed for one person to do a 10ft push start. Getting ready to push off, Jimmy did a final check over the whole vehicle,

“Erm Matty. Where’s your helmet?”

“I won’t need that!!! S’only a test run Jimmy”

“Only a test run? Remember that time we catamaran’d down here on our skateboards?”

“Yuh huh!” replied Matty “ We hit that parked car and you got that bloody great shiner.”

“Yes Matty the parked car and my black eye. Do you also remember how at the same time you clobbered your ear off the bumper and ended up with a cauliflower for a lughole for a fortnight?”

“OK, OK pass the helmet, I’ll wear it. Jeezus! You guys are worse than my Mam!”

“Right George look at your watch.” (digital of course) “I need you to mark the times so we know if we are making it better or worse. When he crosses this line start, there’s a lamp-post just after Mrs Olsen’s house at the bottom, you see it?”

George squinted down the hill, “Next to that blue Austin Maxi. Got it.”

“Good when he reaches that, stop your watch. You ready Matty?”

“Hi Ho Silver… away!!!!!!!”

Jimmy shoved as fast as he could. He had only ten feet to get as much momentum into the cart as possible. As it crossed the start line George set the timer and Matty was off, accelerating fast. The others looked on in awe as Matty sped downhill. He was in his element, hardly had to do a thing the balance was perfect, gentle corrections on the steering bar to make sure he stayed as straight as possible, this was too easy. As he was wondering how they would be able to make it go faster, Matty forgot about his feet. While trying to get comfy he took them off the axle bar for just a second. The effect was immediate and terrifying. George and Jimmy looked on in horror as the cart violently darted from side to side like a downhill slalom skier. Without the damping effect of Matty’s legs, the cart was oscillating, each swerve growing in intensity and throwing Matty about like a rag doll. He struggled to get his feet back on the axle, but it was all over the place. Either of the others would have panicked and stuffed the cart into the nearest hedge however, this was Matty the daredevil speed freak. He didn’t do panic. With a gentle squeeze on each brake lever he applied a tiny amount of brake to the back wheels. The response was instantaneous. With the load transferred rearward, the front wheels assumed a dead centre track exactly as Jimmy had intended. Matty stuffed his feet back on the crossbar and released the brakes with a mighty “Yeeeeeeee Hawwwwwww!” He rapidly regained speed. By the time he was level with the Maxi, Matty guessed he was doing 40mph. He wasn’t. It was nearer 25. Being so close to the ground made every thing seem faster. Matty squeezed harder on the brakes this time and discovered by altering the pressure he could steer left or right just with the levers. “Useful “he thought.

George and Jimmy were pelting down the hill as fast as they could. George made the time 1 min. 27 secs. He guessed the distance covered was about half a mile  and a little mental arithmetic as he was bounding down the hill gave him an average speed of 20, well 20.69 miles per hour actually. Allow for the scary waggle in the middle of the run and the time taken to gather good momentum at the start meant at some point during the run Matty had probably been touching 30. Woo Hoo! Jimmy hadn’t even started to work his magic properly, With adjustments and a good paint finish it was going to be hard stopping this thing from taking off!

As they reached the cart Matty was sitting on the kerb with his helmet off and a massive grin on his face.

Jimmy was first to speak after making sure the cart was still OK. “You took your feet off the bar didn’t you!”

Matty and George just glanced at each other with their “That’s Jimmy” look. “Yes, and the second I did the steering started juddering all over the place. I couldn’t stop it with my legs so I used a little brake.”

“Good thinking Matty, if you hadn’t done that you would have been rolling down this street on your head just a split second later,” Jimmy’s upper body was buried in the foot-well while he admonished Matty.” I can tighten up the axle bearing to help cut it down but you need to keep your feet on there.”

“Thanks Jimmy, I reckon I learned that one the hard way. It won’t happen again, promise.”

“I know Matty, you’re good. That’s why you’re the pilot. Now can anyone think of ways to make ‘Silver’ go faster?”

‘Pilot’, Matty liked the sound of that. ‘Silver’ sounded right too. Good ol’ Jimmy.  He used few words to say stuff, but the ones he chose were always spot on.

As they wheeled Silver back to Jimmy’s, the boys were chatting about the task ahead. George’s brother worked at a spray shop, he would ask if they could have a tin of silver paint to do the body. “Fantastic!” said Jimmy “If we undercoat it first with some of the white emulsion in the shed it won’t take much silver to cover it. Instead of rope on the handle bar, I think I can rig up some bike chain that will give you better fine control Matty.”

Matty had long since given up being surprised at Jimmy’s apparent mind reading ability. “ I was going to ask if you make the steering more precise. The slightest move and it’s almost on full lock.” “No problem.” laughed Jimmy “It’s a simple matter of leverage. If I make it adjustable we can get that just right during testing. George. I think it might be better if you stand at the bottom of the hill. You can start the timer when you see me let go, and be spot on when he crosses the line. Marking time accurately is going to be real important if we want to know what works and what doesn’t.”

Throughout June they worked non-stop on fine tuning Silver. After every run, a new coat of wax was applied to the shiny paintwork and buffed to a mirror shine. They tried adding weight in different areas of the chassis and various little wings and fairings to get the airflow as smooth as they could. If the time was quicker they kept the changes, slower and they rolled it back.

It was the week before the derby and the boys were lining up to do their final test run. Jimmy oiled every bearing, checked every nut and bolt while George took position at the bottom of the run. He could see Jimmy fussing around Matty and Silver, polishing, measuring, checking the wheels, finally he saw Jimmy tap Matty on the top of his crash hat, his signal for ‘Good to Go’. George made sure his stopwatch was set to zero, the big red LED numbers shone brightly on the black background 00:00 he waited until he saw Jimmy let go of Silver and pressed the start button. Matty had been getting faster and faster with every run, he was like a real race driver to them, totally committed to his part. George watched in wonder as Matty and Silver hurtled down the hill faster than he ever thought possible. In the background he could see Jimmy jogging down the pavement. It would be a while before he got here. The same could not be said of Matty, George lined himself up with the finish lamp-post and pressed ‘Stop’ the instant Silvers nose streaked across the line. Matty applied the brakes and came to a stop another 60 yards down the street.

George looked down at his watch, pulled out his notebook and jotted down the date and time beneath the previous record. In careful, painfully neat script he wrote down the time 50.65 seconds. In his head he crunched the calculations:

• half mile distance = 50.65 seconds
• 1 hour = 3,600 seconds
• 3,600 divided by 50.65 = 71.08
• Divide 71.08 by 2 for true miles per hour = 35.54 MPH!

Matty hopped out and wheeled Silver back up to where George was standing. He knew better than to ask. George would not reveal the result until Jimmy got here. At the minute he was about half way. “You can keep it to yourself all you like Georgy Boy but I know deep down that was the fastest yet. Silver was on fire!” George remained straight faced, clutching his notebook as if he were about to announce the winner of an Oscar.

Jimmy finally panted up to the guys and between gasps begged to know what the time was. With a flourish, George flipped open the notebook, cleared his throat and declared “Previous time – 51.02 seconds. Today’s run: 50.65 seconds which is 35 and a half MPH!!!”

“I knew it!” exclaimed Matty as he danced a victory jig around Silver while Jimmy and George were splitting their sides at his comical moves.

Suddenly, race day was upon them. Jimmy rigged up a tow harness which allowed him and George to hitch Silver to their bikes; it seemed the easiest way to cover the six miles from Silver HQ to the start line. All Matty had to do was steer straight and watch out for potholes while making sure he didn’t plough into the bikes if they came to a stop. It was a hard life he thought.

At the top of Fowler Street stood the Town Hall A magnificent stone building with broad steps leading up to its impressive, heavy oak doors. This was to be the start. About a mile away and at a significantly lower altitude was Ocean Road. It had been closed to traffic and this was to be the finish line. The boys took time to look down the run.

“Ah!” said George “We never thought about chicanes.”

“No problem!” breezed Matty

”But we put everything into straight line speed. We didn’t practice cornering!” said Jimmy

“There’s two sets of hay-bails along the track so what? Me ‘n’ Silver can handle ‘em easy and then it’s back onto the fall line for maximum warp Mr Sulu.”

Jimmy and George looked at each other, looked at Silver and finally Matty. Standing proud in his school metalwork boiler-suit (two sizes too big), with his crash helmet (three sizes too big) under his arm, he was a laughable sight. They looked at his eyes. After all the  jokes wise cracks and general larking about, there was something about Matty today. This 12 year old jester in 16 year olds clothes, honestly believed Silver was the fastest machine at the race and he was just the pilot for the job. Now Jimmy and George believed it too.

“OK Mr pilot sir!” mocked Jimmy “Any final adjustments? I can slacken the steering a gnat’s to get you through those chicanes, but you’ll lose time on the straight. I could toe-in the front wheels a bit too; it will give you more response.”

Matty looked down the course and paused for a while. “No need Jimmy. In fact I think it might’ve loosened up a bit on the tow here. Be a good chief mechanic and go tighten it up some more please.”

“WHAT!!! You won’t have the steering to get round those obstacles if I do that. Have you gone stark raving looney?”

“We’ll all be in the same boat out there through the chicanes Jimmy, I reckon this race will be won or lost on the straight, I want all the speed I can get.”

“Fair enough Matty you’re the pilot. I trust you to know what you’re babbling on about.” Jimmy rushed off to make the changes and do a complete ‘pre-flight’ of Silver.

Matty turned to George “I’m just gonna take a walk down the course, get it all straight in me head. Hold me helmet will ya?.”

“Sure Matty I’ll give the visor a clean and polish while you’re gone.”

George walked over to Silver where Jimmy was nipping up the steering bolt. “Guess we’ve done all we can; now it’s down to Matty and Silver.”

“Can’t think of a better man for the job mate, I know I would be cacking me self if I was driving.”

“Yup me too, I think he’s just too dumb to be scared of anything.” said George with a chuckle.

The boys laughed together as they gave Silver a last polish ready for the Under 16s start time.

Matty was waiting at the start when George and Jimmy rolled Silver up to the line. There were all kinds of carts spread across the street from the classic style plank with an orange crate on the back, to a space age looking, three wheeled egg. The boys all agreed Silver was the most handsome of all. He sat low down to the ground with shrouded narrow wheels. Even at a standstill you could swear he was doing 40mph.

Matty shook hands with his crew, pulled on his helmet and clambered into his seat, Jimmy fussed about straightening this, tweaking that and making sure everything was exactly as it should be. As the start time approached, George and Jimmy took position either side of Silver and gave Matty the ‘Good to Go’ slap on the crash hat in unison. George cleared the start line and Jimmy set up ready to give the push start of the century.

“The whole town must be here.” he thought. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon in July and people certainly were out for the day. There was bunting and loud speakers, folk congregated outside the pubs and shops to see the spectacle. Jimmy snapped out of his daze as he heard the loudspeaker counting down from 5…4….3….2….1… There was a loud bang of a starting pistol and Jimmy gave it everything, pumping his legs as fast as he ever thought possible to get Silver and Matty away down that hill before anyone else. The pounding of his blood in his ears and his heavy breathing, the cheers of the crowd and the ringing of the start pistol were booming in his head, but louder than any of them and clear as a bell..

“Hi Ho Silver….away!!!!!!!!!”

With a Herculean shove Jimmy piled every last ounce of weight into Silver as he hit the line, falling flat on his face as Matty shot off down the course. The view from back here was chaotic, one or two carts had stopped a few feet from the start as their drivers furiously pushed themselves downhill to try and get momentum. The bulk of the field were in a writhing lump, each gaining speed and jostling for position. A good line into that first chicane was going to be important. One cart lost control and veered wildly to the left taking two others with it into a mangled mess of wheels, wood and hay-bail at the side of the course.

Matty screamed at the top of his voice as the pistol cracked and he instantly felt the effects of 1 Jimmy-power launching him towards the start line.

“Hi Ho Silver ….away!!!”

Now everything was down to him. They were a team and they had worked well, but from here on Jimmy and George had handed everything over to Matty, the pilot. He could only see two other carts level with Silver as they crossed the line.  Ol’ Jimmy must have ran himself inside out. Silver was picking up speed and the first chicane was fast approaching. Matty drifted left slightly to line Silver up for the first obstacle, looking to his right, the other kid had the same idea and was coming over way too fast. Matty had a split second to weigh this up, hold position or yield? What to do? He was here to race not wimp out; Matty gritted his teeth and kept straight on, accelerating all the time. To the right the challenger must have seen that Matty was not going to give, trying to correct the left swerve and avoid a collision he over steered, the front right wheel hit a manhole and bit hard on the road. Out of the corner of Matty’s eye he saw the cart go right then judder and veer madly towards Silver. A crash seemed inevitable as the cart crossed the track straight towards him. Matty held his nerve “Don’t touch the brakes. Don’t touch the brakes!”  The out of control cart disappeared from view as it sliced behind Silver. There couldn’t have been an inch to spare. The driver to Matty’s left and the cart behind him didn’t know what hit them. One minute they were lining up alongside a fast looking silver cigar with big wheels, the next a blurred, out of control egg came flying from behind it and smashed them all into the hay-bails.

Matty scanned left and right, feeling for any signals from Silver which might mean he had taken damage. They were in the lead and getting faster, the chicane was almost upon them.

Jimmy and George couldn’t believe their eyes. A giant egg had shot across the street on two wheels missed Silver by a whisker  and totally creamed his closest competition. Matty was a good four cart lengths clear of the field and flying. He was faster than he’d ever been; maybe too fast with the steering nipped up he would never make the turn. Slow down Matty, brake! Neither of them could bear to watch as Silver carried on accelerating up to the first chicane.

Matty cleared everything from his mind, the crash, the worry of damage. There was now only him, Silver, a very adjacent wall of hay and an incredible amount of forward momentum. “Well Matty ol’ son. You never had time to practice this but it should work!” Silver sped straight on until level with the first hay-bail with the steering as stiff as it was Matty knew he was asking a lot but ….

Jimmy was sure it was all over, “His brakes must’ve failed, I checked them. The blocks were new this morning, what did I do wrong George? He can’t stop, he’s gonna pile Silver into that wall and the race is over!” George could only stare open jawed at Silver streaking past the first wall of hay.

“Now Matty!” He grabbed a fistful of the right brake as he planted his left foot forward as hard as he could, praying Silver would respond.  Respond Silver did, in the blink of an eye the differential braking force skewed the cart to the right, so fast Matty wasn’t ready for it. He fought to correct the turn but had no choice to apply left brake to counter. This bled off some speed and he knew the other racers would be breathing down his neck. As Silver shot out of the chicane, one of the ‘my Dad built this for me’ carts had the edge and began to pull in front.”

George and Jimmy were dumbstruck, they saw it but they didn’t believe it. Just when they were certain Silver and Matty were in the hay, he just shifted but how? Jimmy was ecstatic, leaping up and down like a yo-yo. “I told you he was the best didn’t I George? He used the brakes the crafty sod, he’s steering with the brakes!! Why didn’t I think of that?” He’s overcooked it though, now we’re in second.

Matty fell into line behind the leader, with the reduced air flow he would accelerate quicker than the other kid. He replayed the chicane turn in his mind, analysing each step, he wouldn’t make that error again. Silver was getting impatient, gathering speed they closed quickly on the back of the ‘Dad-built’. Matty wanted a clean run into the last chicane, this time the bails came out from the left kerb so it would be a left/right flick to get through. He checked his mirrors, there were only two carts close enough to worry about, behind them he could see a mangled mess of hay and wheels where a few drivers hadn’t made the turn. This was crunch time, he could either follow the Dad-built through the obstacle then rely on the tow to get him out in front or he could let Silver loose and take him now for a clear run at the bails.

Jimmy and George were transfixed, “What’s he doing? He’s way faster than that other kid why doesn’t he just overtake? Those other two carts are closing in.” said George. Jimmy mulled it over “He’s picking his moment. Too soon and the other cart might get enough tow to pass him again before the chicane, too late and he might get mixed up in the turns. Go Matty you can do it!”

Matty could see the kid in front checking his mirrors. If he went for the overtake; this guy was sure to try and block. He would have to give him the slip soon or he would be caught up in traffic for the last chicane. Concentrating hard, Matty released the tiny amount of brake he was using to rein Silver in, the three foot gap between him and the leader instantly decreased as Matty accelerated smartly. Picking a space on the right of the Dad-built, he drifted over that way. The kid went for it and jinked right to cut him off. There were inches between them now as Matty tapped the opposite brake. Silver shot left giving Matty a side view of the astonished driver as he passed cleanly down the left. The kid’s blocking swerve had scrubbed a lot of speed and now the other two were closing on him like vultures. Matty concentrated on the chicane 200 yards ahead.

“One thing’s for sure George, he won’t fluff this one. See how he used the brake to overtake? I’ll bet that first chicane was the first time he tried steering at speed. If he can get clean through those bails it’s a straight line dash to the bottom.” Georges gaze remained fixed on Silver as he replied “Yeah but the third place guy got a draw off that Dad-built he’s closing in. What if he gets behind Matty out of the chicane?” Jimmy just chuckled “Simple Georgy, that second cart doesn’t have a Matty in it. Watch!”

Matty lined up for the chicane 100yds to go, quick check of the mirrors, ah! The second place cart was closing and just a few feet away. “OK Silver, we’re going to do this the hard way.” Matty had planned to take the last obstacle at reduced speed to make certain of a clean exit. With another driver closing in that was no longer an option. Matty drifted slightly right to allow for his increased entry speed. The other guy saw this as a mistake and went for the pass. Matty grinned as the cart pulled out of the slipstream. Full aerodynamic force slammed into it, massively slowing its acceleration. As the second place kid drew alongside Silver he looked right and gave Matty a triumphant glare. Matty kept his eye on the hay wall just 60yds ahead.

George could hardly stand it “Nooooooo! He’s neck and neck going into the chicane Jimmy and the other kid has the inside line. I can’t watch!”

“I’ll bet you a month’s pocket money he’s got a plan George.” laughed Jimmy. “Keep watching.”

Side by side the two carts plunged down the hill towards the hay-bails, 50… 45… 40…yards. The faces of the cheering spectators flew by in a blur as Matty kept his head low and his aim on his entry point. As he glanced to his left he could see the other kid switching his eyes from Matty to the wall and back, over and over. Matty knew he had him there and then. With 20 yards to go the pretender hit the brakes to make the turn, Matty was having none of it. Silver sped on unrestricted 10… 5…. “Now Silver!”. Left hand squeeze and the cart skipped merrily to the side, Matty got it spot on this time as they flew diagonally across the track, once level with the second hay wall Matty tapped the right brake and Silver obediently dropped squarely onto the fall line. The other guy didn’t stand a chance. Drawn into a game of ‘soap-box-chicken’ he had left it way too late for his ordinary steering to respond, he went in way too fast and on far too tight a line. The crash was inevitable.

With a wicked grin, Matty looked in his mirror in time to see hay fountain into the air as his rival nosedived into the barrier. Knowing that the others would be stamping hard on their brakes to avoid the hapless driver, he was all clear. The finish line was in sight and Silver was approaching top speed with no more obstacles to overcome.

The crowd cheered madly as Matty took the chequered flag a full 4 seconds ahead of the next cart, the boys took to their bikes and sped off to the finish line. They’d done it! Jimmy, George, Matty and Silver. What a team!

At the award ceremony, the three friends posed proudly with Silver as a Gazette photographer snapped away with his camera. Matty held the trophy up for the shot. “Under 16 Soap Box Derby Champion 1978.” There was also a £20 Woolworths gift voucher, Matty reckoned he’d spend most of his share on Pick-n-Mix and Pop, and probably waste the rest.

Eventually the crowds and excitement died away and it was time to leave. George and Jimmy hooked their bikes up to Silver and grinning like loons pedalled for home. They stowed the cart behind the shed and draped the dust sheet over him.

They stood in silence for a few moments, each reflected on what they had achieved.

Jimmy was first to speak. “What are we gonna do now then?”

“Dunno” from Matty.

They looked at George.