Guts and Glory
The next day Dusty invited Chug to his hangar to discuss and talk about the qualifier. Dusty was very excited to compete in the qualifier which would be in a week while Chug was a bit nervous.
"You know Dusty, this book I have might not cover everything that you will experience in the race." Chug said.
"What do you mean? I think we got a really good shot at this!" Dusty answered.
"Well I do too, but-um-I think we should get some help-from you know-uh-The Skipper?" he objected.
"You mean the crankshaft at the end of the runway? He's been grounded for years! I don't want to be taught by someone who doesn't fly!"
"No need to be rude, and, Hey I don't fly!" he yelled, "Besides my buddy Sparky is his friend! He said that he shot down 50 planes! He's a war hero!"
"No not you Chug but-…fine."
Dusty and chug approached the old hangar at the end of the runway. The lights were on which meant he was awake. Dusty started to feel nervous.
"Are you sure about this Chug?" questioned Dusty.
"Of-coarse I'm sure! I'll just be hiding behind these barrels."
Dusty slowly rolled to the front of the hangar and pressed the door-bell with his wing.
After a second the hangar doors slowly rolled open to reveal a blue navy plane getting pushed by a small grey forklift that he assumed was Sparky.
"H-hey Skipper! I-I'm trying out for the Wings around the Globe rally, and I was-well-uh-they say those who can't do-teach!"
Skipper just stared at him and shut the hangar doors. Dusty sighed.
"Come-on he's warmin' up to you!" said Chug from inside a shed now.
"Chug! How and why did you get back there?" he whispered.
Dusty came up to the door-bell and rang it again.
"I just thought that-uh-with my guts and your glory we-"
"Your guts would be a pot-hole on a runway somewhere! Now get out!" Skipper interrupted.
And with that he shut the hangar doors once more and turned off the lights.
"I knew it! He is an old crankshaft!" Dusty angrily mumbled to himself.
"Let's try the back door!" whispered Chug now at the fence.
The next day Dusty woke-up in a sad mood. He now felt nervous about trying out for the rally without Skippers help. He stared at his poster of the route the racers would take. Then he looked at his shelf of his models of his favourite racers.
"Bad idea Dusty." Said the Skipper who came out of nowhere.
"How did you-wait what?" asked Dusty.
"Your turns are to slow! Your Radial-G is lame! Besides you're too young to compete in a race like this." Skipper complained.
"Skipper I'm 23! Look at Lightning Mcqueen, he started racing at 21! Me and Lightning are now both the same age!" he answered.
"Well he's not a rookie anymore is he? This is your first race!" Skipper yelled.
"I know but-" Dusty started.
"You're a crop-duster! You're not built for this!" he continued.
"You don't think I know that? You don't think I know that?! I'm the one who has woken up at 4 in the morning, collected the spray mixture, and flown over the field day by day, month by month, for years! I just don't think that that was what I was built for! You know what? You don't have to help me…I'll do it myself." Dusty yelled back.
Skipper stood there in idle for a while. Not knowing what to say he decided to be quiet. There was something about Dusty that made him think of how he was when he was a little plane.
"Tomorrow- O' five hundred." He announced flatly.
"O' five hundred, w-what?"
"Yeah! 5-a.m!" explained Sparky as if it was obvious. (And it was since Sparky had worked in the navy with Skipper too.)
