He jammed his foot down on the accelerator and watched the needle of the speedometer creep up to sixty-five, then to seventy, hover there a fraction of a second, and then move on past. He grinned as he saw he was steadily overhauling two cars ahead. The stop light on one of them flashed red. Ahead were a series of S-bends. Woody remembered them from his trial runs around the track. He glanced at his speedometer. Seventy-two. "O.K., brother," he said, "you're going too fast. But you just might make it." He entered the first S-bend abreast of the Singer that had been ahead of him. He left him behind as if the Singer were standing still. But when he brought the steering wheel over to the right for the next turn, the MG seemed to lie down on two wheels and started skittering toward a pile of hay bales. There wasn't time to change to a lower gear. Woody took his foot completely off the accelerator, and it seemed for a second as if the car were going to turn over. He was thrown hard against the side and stabbed his foot on the accelerator again. For a second the car teetered. Then the MG recovered and flashed off so close to the bales that he felt a slight thud as his nearside fender tipped the edge of one of them. Ahead now lay two more cars. And another bend. This time Woody changed down. He revved the engine to a roar in neutral and let the clutch out hard as he slipped the gear lever over into third. The MG jerked forward, and Woody headed for a gap between the two cars in front of him. If the gap remained he could get through. But if it closed he would be flung against one car or the other. He jammed the accelerator down and crept into the gap. His front wheels were level with the driver's seat of the first car and six feet from the rear wheels of the second car. "Come on, baby," he said and urged the MG to more speed. Slowly he crept abreast of the first MG and was now fully in the gap. The car beside him started to slip behind. Woody felt a tinge of pleasure and triumph. He was now ahead of the first MG but not enough to swing over and pass the second. Suddenly he saw the brake light on the car ahead flash red for a second. He was braking for a bend. Woody made a split-second decision. If he braked now, he'd lose the ground he had made. If he speeded up, it would be to go into a corner again faster than he should. He hit the accelerator. To the spectators it looked as if he were a bolt shot from a crossbow. His car leaped forward swiftly to pass the one ahead right on the curve. There was a cry of "Ooh," which Woody heard clearly above the roar of the engines.