Sam bore down on the gas, ignoring his vehicle's shake, rattle and roll as he skidded around the dirt track, dust a heavy cloud behind him.

The driver in the other car shot him a startled glance when Sam drew up beside him. Sam threw him a crazed grin before pulling ahead just far enough to flash past the finish line in front.

Cackling with glee, Sam slammed his foot down on the brake and his go-kart swerved to a bone-rattling halt. He tumbled out of the kart and advanced on the other driver, who exited his vehicle with an air of long-suffering patience.

"Who's the man?" Sam crowed, hazel eyes sparkling. "I'm the man!"

"You the man, Sammy," Dean intoned solemnly.

Sam whooped and punched the air in triumph.

"Of course," Dean went on, "if it had been the Impala . . ."

"Oh, hell no! I won! I am THE MAN!"

Flipping Dean the bird, Sam strutted toward the track exit, putting an extra swing into his hips just because he felt like it.

Dean leapt after his brother and landed a heavy swat on his denim-clad ass. "I'll show you who's the man!"