This FanFiction is based heavily on the film the Sahara. The film is old and most of you won't have seen it but it's good. This FanFiction is also based in 1927, America.
Clary's POV:
The wind whipped through my hair as the car raced along the track. A corner came up and I turned the wheel quickly. The finish line was up ahead. I could see my father there. The car whizzed past the line and I heard my father cry out triumphantly. When the car came to a stop I leaped out and ran to my father. He caught me in a hug.
"We've done it! It's a new record!" He said. I laughed. My father and I had built the car.
"The gear change was a bit sticky on the last corner," I told him. He looked thoughtful.
"Could be that the car's overheating or that there's something wrong with the gear box. Jordan! Jonathan!" Two of my fathers most trusted men ran up to us.
"Yes Mr Garroway?"
"Check the gear box. Tell me what you find later," the men ran off after giving me a quick hug.
"What did Mr Aldertree say?" I asked as we headed up the hill to the side of the race track. Mr Aldertree was a business manager. He might give us a deal to make and sell cars all over the world.
"Patience Clary. We can't rush him. If he wants to offer us a deal then he will," my father chastised me gently. "Now you need to get back to the house, you have a party to attend," he said. I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. "Wear a dress! You're supposed to be the hostess!" He called. I turned around and gave him a Salute before continuing on my way. I heard his chuckle get tossed around in the wind as I carried on walking.
At the house I changed into my white dress and heels, putting my red hair up in bun on top of my head. I was known to be a bit off a party animal so I slid down the stair banisters, much to everyone's amusement. Once my feet where firmly on the floor I saw Mr Aldertree and my father speaking.
"I want you to compete in the Sahara desert race. You will be up against 5 other competitors. Mercedes, Benz, Alfa Romeo..." He said. I didn't catch all the names before I was pulled into the party by some friends. I saw my father being led away by Jordan and Jonathan.
After a while I got a bit tipsy from the exhilaration of the new record and the many drinks on offer.
"Come on boys, you said," I pulled some of my friends over to the upper bannister. They put their arms around me and helped me lean back over it. I laughed, feeling on top of the world.
In two seconds that all came crashing down when I saw the butler below me, a police man by his side.
"What is it Alec?" I asked. He looked grave. The music was stopped and silence fell.
"Miss Garroway, I'm afraid there's been an accident."