Woody was busy installing a new set of points on a V-8 on one side of the garage when he heard the deep throbbing note of a car pulling into the garage. It was not an engine he had heard before, and he looked up quickly from his work. There was the Black Tiger and Randy stepping out of the seat without going through the formality of opening the door. Woody dropped his work on the V-8 and went right over. "Hello," said Randy genuinely pleased to see him. "Busy?" "Just putting some new points on that job," said Woody. "I didn't realize you were a mechanic," said Randy. "Been working at it long?" "I've worked with Worm nearly two years. But I studied automotive engineering for three years at night school." "Hmmm," said Randy. "Say, is Worm around? I've got a problem for him." Worm had by now come out of his office, where he was totaling up the day's business with a stub of a pencil in a notebook whose pages were gray with greasy thumb marks. It was an invariable practice of his. "What's the trouble?" he asked. "Got a job for you," said Randy. "I didn't want to bring it anywhere else because I think you're the only mechanic in this area who can tackle it. I've tried a couple of other places, but the Tiger is so new I'm not quite satisfied that they can do the work. It takes the kind of special training that you have." "I'll do what I can," said Worm. "What's the problem?" "Basically it's a matter of tuning," said Randy. "She's not tuned right. We've been working on her all week, and she's sluggish at around fifty-eight hundred rpm. That's just where I need to get real power. What do you think?" "I can do it," said Worm for false modesty was not one of his vices. "But it'll take all day. I'll have tae shut doon on all me other work tomorrow if the job's tae be done right." "You couldn't work on it tonight, could you?" asked Randy. "I'd like to get her tuned really fine and then try her out sometime tomorrow to make sure everything's super. The race is the day after." "Aye," said Worm. "We can work taenight for old time's sake. I'll close the shop tomorrow, anyway. Woody, can ye stay and help a bit, laddie?" Woody said he could with such enthusiasm that Randy smiled. They closed the garage doors after driving the Black Tiger into the building, and in the overhead electric light the car gleamed sleek, powerful, exciting, and yet oddly menacing. The thought occurred to Woody that here was a car it would take a real driver to master. It seemed to have almost the spirit of a pedigreed stallion. With the right, sure touch at the controls, it would perform obediently. But any unsureness, any hesitation, and the car would master the driver.