His fears and distrust of the car, which had for a while left him, began to return, though he fought against them. He knew who was ahead--Kurt Kreuger in his Jag and Tom Wisdom in his Ferrari. They were the same two that Randy had been killed trying to pass. Woody's heart started to pound, and unconsciously he took his foot off the accelerator. The Black Tiger seemed to slump as if it had hit a patch of thick glue, there was a loud roar, and the Ferrari, which he had been at such pains to pass, buzzed by him. He was back to fourth place again. A Mercedes and a Cad-Allard were coming up behind him. Only the fact that they had to slow down for the corner ahead prevented their passing him. Woody felt his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. The muscles of his legs seemed to go rigid, and he felt he had no control over his feet. Somehow he got around the corner, and somehow he kept his foot down on the accelerator when he hit the straightaway, but his heart was not in it. He was afraid again, and this time he knew the fear was going to remain. He recalled how he had nearly turned over on the S-bend and how he had skidded broadside around one corner, and the spirit went out of him. The Jag passed him easily and so did the Mercedes, the driver flashing him a puzzled look as he went by. Then Randy said something to him--or so it seemed. He said, "Relax. Lean back. You can't drive all crouched over the wheel." Woody leaned back against the seat. The feel of it on the back of his shoulders gave him comfort. "You passed those boys before," said Randy's voice. "You can do it again. Try it on the S-bends. Go full bore and trust to luck. You're driving a better car than you think." The S-bends were ahead, and the three cars were just entering them. Woody looked at his speedometer. A hundred and twenty-five. He wanted to brake, then change down, and take the bends more slowly. Instead, he pressed the accelerator and flung into the first bend as if it wasn't there. He hardly saw the Mercedes as he went by, taking it on the outside. He was on the inside position on the second bend--the one that was banked the wrong way. The Jag ahead had flung wide and was trying hard to get into position. There was a sharp jolt as Woody streaked past it. But he didn't bother even to look in his rear-vision mirror. He was fourth again. There were three cars ahead, and he knew now that he could pass them. Or rather he knew that he wouldn't hold back from trying. He couldn't explain why it was that his panic had left. It was there in full force a few minutes ago, and now there was not a vestige of it. Instead he was leaning back against the seat. His hands and legs were steady. His brain was clear, and his emotions were under control. His only desire was to go faster and drive better. "I think I'm going to make it, Randy," he said. "Never doubted it for a moment," was the reply.