[legendsport]

Ormond Beach, FL: July 3, 1916:

"We need to be getting back, Jim."

Jimmy Barrell shrugged his shoulders. He knew his brother was right - his mother would be getting suspicious and a phone call to the offices of the Atlanta Peaches would reveal that Joe Reid had not seen his grandsons, specifically the two who were at that time supposed to be staying with him in Atlanta while trying to sell the car.

Ah, the car. Jimmy loved that red Buick D-55... and that was a problem. His parents had made no bones about it - the car, a gift (or bribe according to Alice Barrell) from Jack Connolly, a super-rich Canadian who owned not one, but two hockey clubs and wanted to sign Jimmy's older brother Jack - well, that car needed to be sold off and the money given to, at Alice's insistence, the International Red Cross. With the bloody war raging in Europe, Jimmy agreed that the Red Cross was a worthy organization. But he still wanted to keep the car.

"I'm serious, Jimmy - we need to get our tails back home."

Jimmy frowned and looked Rollie in the eye, saying, "Don't I know it. But man oh man, do I want to stay here and keep racing this beauty." The Buick, with Jimmy at the controls, had won several races over the past two days and the brothers were well over $100 richer. Jimmy knew he could make even more if they could stay through the Independence Day holiday.

Rollie sighed and said, "And what are we going to do with the car? It's supposed to be sold off, remember?"

"I know. I think we can stash it in that old barn behind the Reynolds place," Jimmy replied with a grin.

Rollie rolled his eyes. "You know, you're going to get us in hot water. We need to get rid of this car, not hide it."

"Ah, stop being such an old woman. No one's going to find it out at the Reynolds place."

"And what if someone buys the property?"

Jimmy shrugged and added disdainfully, "No one wants that place. Possum tried to get Pop to buy it and even he wouldn't do it."

Jimmy had already decided - he was keeping the car. And he knew Rollie wouldn't - couldn't - turn him in to their parents after accompanying Jimmy to Florida.

Rollie was about to continue the argument when someone tapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Excuse me, young man."

Just before he turned, Rollie saw Jimmy's eyes widen. When he did turn, he found himself facing a rather small, bespectacled man in a rumpled seersucker suit. Why Jimmy had reacted that way was a mystery to Rollie - the guy looked completely nondescript.

"Something I can do for you mister?" Rollie asked.

The man gave a thin smile and replied, "I think the better question would be what I can do for you, young man."

Jimmy stepped forward and thrust out his right hand, "Mr. Merlon, I'm James Barrell and this is my brother Roland."

Merlon shook Jimmy's hand and then Rollie's as well. Wearing a tight smile, the man then asked, "Which one of you has been driving that Buick D?"

Rollie noted with surprise that Jimmy blushed deeply before telling Merlon that he was the one who had been racing the Buick.

"That was some fine driving," Merlon said. As Jimmy's blush deepened, Merlon added, "That's why I'm here - I want you to drive for me."

Stunned, Rollie looked at Jimmy and blurted out, "But you're only 16!"

Merlon chuckled and said, "Well, well - that explains why you look so wet behind the ears." He then pulled a pad and pencil from his jacket and took down Jimmy's name and address. "I will write you with more information as soon as I get back to Lansing." Merlon then shook hands with both Rollie and Jimmy and turned and walked away.

Jimmy turned to Rollie and said, "That was Bill Merlon! And he wants me to drive for him!"

Rollie was unimpressed - largely because he had no earthly idea who Bill Merlon was - and it showed. He drawled, "So?"

Shaking his head, Jimmy explained, "Merlon is a car builder. Not a manufacturer like Olds or Ford - he only builds custom racing autos."

Rollie only shrugged so Jimmy, flustered, continued, "He built the car that won the Indianapolis 500 last year. Driving for him would be a big deal!"

Rollie shrugged again and then said, "None of that matters. Want to know why?"

Jimmy nodded.

Rollie smiled and said, "Mom will never, in a million years, let you drive a racing car. So this is all moot, bub."

Jimmy's mouth fell open - he knew Rollie was right. Still... he was a firm believer in that old saw: where there's a will, there's a way.