"So what's the van been doing this time?" the grizzled, pudgy mechanic mumbled, stroking his week-old stubble and leaning over the Mystery Machine's inner workings. He pulled a wrench from a stained pocket on his beige coveralls and gave the fuel gauge a few whacks.
"It just has the tendency to stall in front of spooky old houses," Fred replied nonchalantly as the rest of the gang meandered around the dimly-lit garage. "I didn't think it was too much of an issue, but Scooby and Shaggy insisted."
"Well, yeh come to the right place," he murmured.
"It's great that you could help us with our car troubles, Mr. Tacoma," Fred said conversationally. "Especially as racing season is just starting. Aren't you the main mechanic for Jason Newport, the famous racecar driver?"
The mechanic wiped his hands on a greasy rag. "Eh, call me Sparky. Ev'ryone else does. And I am. Bes' mechanic he ever had. Just wish HE knew that!"
"I'm…sure he already does…" Fred replied, confused as ever.
Jason Newport, a slender young man with dark black hair strode up to the gang. He wore a kelly-green racing jumpsuit with orange flames embroidered on the sleeves. Similar flames were tattooed onto his forearms. He clapped a hand onto Sparky's shoulders.
"I do!" Jason replied jovially. "Ol' Sparky's just peeved because I couldn't give 'im the raise he wanted. I thought we explained all this, Spark." Sparky mumbled and turned angrily back to the Mystery Machine. Jason frowned. "No manners…speaking of manners, where are mine?" He extended his hand to the gang. "I'm Jason Newport. And you are?" Introductions followed hand-and-pawshakes. "Sparky's been my mechanic since I started on the racing circuit. He's just mad because I can't give him a raise this year unless I win the Coolsville 500 next week."
"You came in second last year, didn't you?" Fred asked.
"Yeah," Jason sighed. "But not this year. I've trained harder and got my car all tricked out for this race, thanks to Sparky here. Speaking of, can you take a look under my hood when you're done with their van?" Sparky harrumphed, barely looking up from his work.
"We're glad he has enough time to help us with the van," Daphne remarked. "It's been acting up all week."
Suddenly, a black racecar zoomed into the garage with a deafening roar and a puff of exhaust. The driver, wearing a helmet and a black jumpsuit embroidered with flames, leaped expertly out of the racer. He twisted off his flame-decked helmet and shook out his sandy hair. "Hey, Jase!" the driver called with a broad grin. "Great seein' you here! Last minute car checkup?"
"Yep," Jason replied. "What you doin' here, Stanley? Same thing?"
Stanley ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, gotta get this thing ready for the big race." He noticed Mystery Incorporated for the first time. "New pit crew?"
"No, these are my new friends; that's Fred, there's Velma, Daphne, Shaggy and Scooby-Doo. Sparky's working on their van as we speak. Everyone, this is Stanley Testarossa, one of the other racers."
Stanley shook hands (and paws) with everyone. "It's nice meeting you all. If you'll excuse me, I need to get to work on my car." He turned away from the gang and popped the hood of his racer, which ended up slamming back down on his hand!
Grimacing, Stanley lifted the hood back up to rescue his throbbing, injured digits.
"So, you think you've got that hunk of metal whipped into shape yet?" Jason teased good-naturedly.
"Oh, it's in great shape," Stanley replied breezily, pulling a wrench from his jumpsuit and tightening a bolt on the engine.
"You think you might actually make it past the starting line this year?"
"Oh, ha ha." Stanley straightened up, wiping his oil-stained hands on a rag. "You watch," he declared angrily, striding over to Jason. "I'll win it all this year, and no ghost or monster is going to stand in my way!"
The seriousness of his proclamation was lessened as Stanley turned on his heel and ran headlong into a support post. "I meant to do that," he muttered furiously, stepping around the post and stalking out of the garage.
"Stanley's come in last every year," Jason whispered to the gang once he knew Stanley was out of earshot. The sound of a crash outside caused the gang to wince. "And he's a little clumsy, to boot."
"Jinkies," Velma murmured. "So how can he guarantee he's going to win it all?"
"And what did he mean by 'ghost?' " Fred asked.
Jason sighed. "Well, kids, look like I've got some explaining to do." Suddenly, from outside came the deafening roar of a car engine followed by the cacophonous summons of a honking horn. "What in the WORLD?"