It was another idyllic day at the south Pacific home of multi-billionaire Jefferson Tracy. His private island was awash with tropical breezes as the sun smiled serenely down on the azure of the ocean.


But no one was enjoying it at the moment.


All of the denizens of the Island, including good friend and current guest Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, were deep in the bowels of the island, oohing and aahing over the engineer Brains' latest creation.


"Brains, You've done it again. This one will even be better than the first." Alan said, gliding his hand over the contoured features.


"Th-thanks, Alan. I've adjusted the tortion some and added a new c-component to the engine. It will make the fuel into a richer m-mixture." Brains said, with pride in his voice.


"Yes, Brains. This is a lovely new race car for Alan. Where will you race it first?" Lady Penelope asked both the engineer and the driver. The two looked at each other.


"We hadn't decided quite yet, Lady Penelope," Alan explained. "There are a number of different races to choose from."


"Hmmm." she hummed as she stroked the smooth finish. "This is so unlike FAB-1. And so very unlike the other car I saw that might give this one a run for the money."


"What car would that be, Penny?" Jeff asked, curious.


"Oh, it belongs to one of my fellow agents. You know the one, Jeff. He helped us out immensely when those imposters were running around impersonating International Rescue. Jeremiah Tuttle. His car was quite impressively fast." Penelope replied.


Alan looked over to his father, his eyes full of curiosity. "What kind of car could possibly outrun this baby? Isn't Jeremiah, that old hillbilly that lives in the states?" he said, skeptically.


"Yes son, Jeremiah is a hillbilly, but he is a good soul. And they don't come more honest. Jeremiah has an old 20th century Model T Ford." Jeff described modestly. He went on to describe his old friend and his machine.


In the background could be heard roaring laughter coming from Gordon. Doubled over holding his side, he gasped, "You mean that we should race Alan's new car against Jeremiah's old jalopy? It'd never get past the starting line. Alan would be finished by the time he got the motor started." he crowed.


"Don't underestimate this 'jalopy' of Jeremiah Tuttle's, Gordon," Penelope remonstrated, shaking a delicate finger. "He has 'souped up' the vehicle, as I believe you call it." She sighed. "It was almost fast enough to outrace FAB-1."


"Wouldn't a race between the two cars be amusing?" Tin-Tin said with a soft smile.


"Y-Yes," agreed Brains. "It would b-be a good, uh, shakedown for this c-car."


"Then it's settled," Jeff said, trying to hide a grin. "I'll get in touch with Jeremiah and see if he's interested."


Scott and Virgil looked at each other and shook their heads. "I've got to tell John about this. He'll never believe it." Virgil said, slyly.


Parker had been standing behind the congregation, eyeing the new piece of automotive machinery. His face brightened as a thought entered his mind. *H'I've got to contact some h'of me ol' chums.*


"Ah, Dad, where are going to stage this little race?" Scott questioned.


"Parola Sans!" Gordon jumped in, "It's the perfect place. The regular racing season is over. No one would come out to an isolated place like that for a 2 car race." he enjoined.


"Now wait a minute!" Alan cut him off. " No one's bothered to ask me if I wanted this race."

All faces turned towards him.


"Well?" asked Virgil.


Gordon pulled Alan by his arm out of earshot of everyone.


"Come on, Alan, you have to do this."


"Why?" asked Alan.


Gordon blinked a few times, then bit his lip. He closed his amber eyes as if in deep thought. "I'll think of a good reason later. But you have to do this. You can do it for Tracy pride.... yeah that's it! Tracy pride."


Gordon stood up straight. He blew across his fingers then rubbed them across his chest, "And besides, I'm going to be your chief mechanic." he said, proudly. Alan rolled his eyes.

Before Alan could answer, Gordon dashed off to advise the group that Alan had accepted.


***********************************


Jeff put a call in to his old friend, Jeremiah. He could hardly contain his laughter as a vision of the two cars racing swam into view.


Jeremiah had just come back from hunting, when his stove beeped for attention.


"Yew got a cawl, Jeremiah," drawled his wife from her rocking chair on the porch.


"So I see, Maw. Must be mah ol' friend Jeff Tracy, needin' me to do mah part fer International Rescue," Jeremiah replied as he entered his cabin. He pressed a button and a vent on the stove pipe opened, revealing a sophisticated vidphone, and the image of Jeff Tracy smiling out at Jeremiah.


"Wahl, hello there, Jeff!" Jeremiah said with a big grin. "What kin I do fer yew today? More spies to ketch?"


"Hello, yourself, Jeremiah. You're looking fit as a fiddle!" Jeff exclaimed, his own grin mirroring that of the hillbilly's. "No spies to catch today, but I do have a favor to ask."


"Yew name it, Jeff," Jeremiah said stoutly. "Yew know I'll do anythin' fer International Rescue!"


"Well, Jeremiah. We're always developing new technology out here at our base," Jeff explained. "And we're wanting to test some of it real soon. We've put it into a race car that my son, Alan, is going to drive. But we need to give the boy a challenge. Lady Penelope remembered your souped-up car, and thought that a friendly little race might be just the ticket."


"A race?" Jeremiah drawled, a puzzled tone to his voice. "Hmmm. I s'pose I could do thet. If'n yew think it'd help. I'm shure thet enny car yer brain boys could come up with would wipe mah little jalopy off'n the map."


"I'm not so sure about that, Jeremiah. Lady Penelope was quite impressed with your 'little jalopy'." Jeff remonstrated. "This could be quite a match up."


"Lady Penny-lope was impressed, yew say? Wahl than, yew have yerself a race!" he said excitedly. "When and whare?"


"I'll arrange the time and place, Jeremiah. You leave the shipping of your car to me. Everything will be taken care of." Jeff said.


"Okay, Mr. Tracy, lookin' farwad to seein' yew agin." Jeremiah said, signing off.


Ma had been standing behind Jeremiah. "Yew shure yew wanna wup tha' Tracy boy? I heerd he'un was a good driver." she questioned him.


Jeremiah looked at the gray stringy-haired old woman. "Maw, if'n we can make them beans o' yerz into liquid fuel, thar ain't no way we can looz." he said, winking at her.