Taking the Chequered Flag

Chapter 1

The Bet

Saturday, 1 January

E.D. looked down the line of motocross bikes and grimaced, wondering how it had come to this. The kid next to him was off his bike and frantically sweeping the small concrete starting block with a little broom.

‘You want it?’ he asked, holding the broom towards E.D.

‘I’m good,’ E.D. said, staring at the other boy’s enormous bike. ‘How come you’re racing a 125cc?’ His own 100cc bike looked like a kid’s BMX in comparison. As if to emphasise the point, the boy threw down the broom, hopped onto his bike and started the engine. The kid revved hard then shut the motorbike down again.

‘You say something?’ he asked.

‘Doesn’t matter.’ E.D. stared glumly at the straight stretch of track ahead of him. The other riders were moving into position in front of the starting gates. He’d purposely chosen the gate furthest away.

‘Shove over one, mate. I always start here.’

E.D. turned. An immaculately dressed rider in expensive gear was standing with his hands on his hips, frowning at him. Behind him a man was doing a last-minute check of his gleaming bike. It looked like it had come straight from the manufacturer.

‘Your dad gonna give you a push start, too?’ E.D. said, irritated. He was regretting more and more the bet he’d made—and lost—with his brother. But a bet was a bet. One race and one race only. He didn’t care if he came last; he would just enjoy doing four laps of the circuit.

‘My father has made an arrangement with the course officials,’ the boy continued.

‘Yeah, yeah. Whatever.’

‘What is that?’ the boy asked, looking in a pained way at E.D.’s bike.

‘What do you mean?’ E.D. felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.

‘Well, I mean—oh, never mind. You should get yourself a Honda 125cc like me. Top of the range. Makes a wicked sound.’

E.D. sat on his bike, fiddling with the tear-off on his goggles. Suddenly his ears filled with the sound of bike engines.

‘What the—?’ He looked over at the starter’s tower. The guy was waving a green flag. He kicked down hard to start his bike. Nothing. Cursing, E.D. looked towards the ground, saw the spark-plug lead dangling, pushed it on firmly, and kicked the bike. Still nothing happened.

The kid next to him on the Honda was shouting something at him.

‘What?’ E.D. yelled, jumping on the kick starter again.

‘Wave at the starter!’

E.D. knew heaps about motorbikes but not much about racing them. He threw up his arm and gave the starter a wave.

‘Keep waving till it starts!’

The roar of engines around him was deafening, but E.D. wasn’t bothered by it. In fact, he loved it. It sent a thrill of excitement and adrenalin surging through his veins.

‘C’mon, you useless piece of—’ The engine sputtered then suddenly burst into life. ‘Yeah!’ Revving the engine hard, E.D. edged his bike up so that the front wheel was nudging the starting gate.

He glanced up at the tower to give the guy another wave. The sound of roaring engines intensified. The starter was holding a board. Thirty seconds. E.D. adjusted his goggles and revved his bike. His heart thumping, he looked briefly along the line of bikes to his left, wondering again what he was doing. There was another surge of sound. The guy in the start tower flicked the board he was holding. Five seconds.

Before E.D. had time to think about how fast the last 25 seconds had gone, the metal gates collapsed and 23 bikes roared into life, spitting mud and dirt in all directions.

E.D. dropped the clutch quickly and the front wheel lifted from the ground. He leaned forward and got the wheel down again, but the mistake had slowed him. The rest of the pack was gone. He’d been left behind in a cloud of slowly settling dust.

The words of the guy with the 125cc rang in his ears—what is that?—as he swung hard into the first curve, flying along the berm, almost running the back wheel over the edge. The bike swerved crazily with the sudden burst of speed and E.D. fought hard to regain control. Using the slope of the curve, he sped down into a long straight before taking the next bend. This time he went lower, through a damp section of the track that had just been watered. Hanging on grimly, he manoeuvred the bike through the sludge before breaking free.

He glanced ahead. Already he sensed he’d made some ground on the struggling bikes in front of him. Accelerating hard, he charged towards the first of the jumps—a tabletop. He was flying through nothing but air. As his back wheel touched down, he edged slightly to the right, overtaking the rider in front.

‘Woo hoo!’ he roared in relief. ‘This is easy.’ He stole a glance at the rider he’d overtaken then suddenly found he was racing into the next bend too quickly. He dropped it back a few gears, but lost control as he swung the bike hard to the left. A split second later E.D. was off the bike, his helmet sticking to the thick clods of damp soil at the bottom of the curve.

Heaving his mud-streaked bike onto its wheels, E.D. clambered back on and rejoined the race. Suddenly it became clear to him what he wanted to do. His goal was to not finish last. He knew that if he concentrated he could catch the rider in front, who was now scrambling over the three ski jumps near the rear of the course.

‘Concentrate,’ he hissed, taking the next corner carefully, using his left leg for balance to ensure he stayed on his bike. He came out of the corner cleanly and sped away into the straight, clumps of mud flying from his bike.

After two laps of the course, E.D. became more aggressive. There had been a couple of times when he felt he could have overtaken the rider in front, but he held back, building his confidence, and gaining knowledge of every aspect of the course. E.D. was a fast learner. He quickly realised that there were smart lines to take, especially at the corners. By continually looking ahead he could guide the bike along the best course to go as fast as he could; both on the straight sections and also through the corners and over the jumps. He kept high on his foot pegs and let the bike bounce underneath him over the bumps, keeping a firm grip on the handlebars. The further he went, the more comfortable he felt. On the third lap, he sensed it was time to get going.

E.D. gritted his teeth, bent low over the handlebars and started to gain ground on the rider 15 metres ahead of him. By the time he’d cleared the three ski jumps, E.D. had halved the gap and was closing in. Ahead of the other rider’s blue and white bike was a group of four bikes, battling together to stay with the middle pack of riders.

Giving it full throttle, E.D. burst forward, narrowing the gap even further. Sensing that the other rider was taking a higher line into a large, sweeping bend, E.D. braked hard, taking the tight inside part of the corner. He bolted away on the dry straight ahead, leaving the blue and white bike in a cloud of thick brown dust.

He managed to overtake another three bikes before crossing the finish line.

‘E.D.!’

E.D. turned quickly, recognising the shout. Gabby was leaning on the fence near the pit, waving. Angus and Hannah stood next to her.

‘Hey, what are you guys doing here?’ E.D. pulled off his helmet and walked his bike over to them.

‘Well, since you were so kind to support me with my swimming we thought we’d come down and cheer you on.’

‘How did you know I was racing?’ E.D. asked, ripping his gloves off and wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand.

‘Your brother told me. Tony. I saw him down the street,’ Gabby explained. ‘Said I should bring Angus and Hannah and watch you win. He said that you were brilliant.’

‘Oh he did, did he?’ There was a pause.

‘Tough race, huh, E.D.?’

E.D. looked at Angus and sighed. ‘Well, to tell you the truth, I didn’t even want to race. It was a bet I had with good old Antonio.’

‘Antonio? You mean Tony?’ Hannah said. ‘He’s not that old. He’s only 16.’

‘Yeah, like I said: good, old Tony. Tony told me that if I couldn’t get his bike working by six last night, I’d have to ride in his place in the races today.’

‘And you agreed?’ Angus shook his head, but he was smiling.

‘Hey, I’ve always been able to fix bikes. I’ve been doing it ever since I could hold a spanner. The trouble was I got it going at six minutes past six o’clock. So I had to race.’

‘Well, you didn’t come last,’ Hannah said, patting him on the back. ‘Can we go now?’

‘Hannah, E.D.’s got three more races to ride. You’re going to stay for a couple more, aren’t you, Gab?’ Angus kept his eyes on the bikes screaming around the course.

Gabby shrugged. ‘I guess, though it’s very loud. Do you think we could go and sit up in that grandstand over there?’

‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ Angus said, following E.D. into the pit area. The place was filled with trailers and vans and people working on their bikes. It was buzzing with noise and activity.

‘Some shifty people around here, mate,’ E.D. said, quietly.

‘What do you mean?’

E.D. parked his bike on a small patch of grass. A huge tool box lay open and screwdrivers, spanners and a range of other metal gadgets were strewn about the floor of the trailer.

‘Well, there was some kid accusing someone else of switching off his petrol tap and there was this massive argument going on before the start of the race.’ E.D. looked up, waiting for Angus to say something. ‘What?’

‘Nothing. Well, actually, I was just wondering—since you’re such a legend with bikes and stuff, how come you were so far back in the field?’

‘Hey, like I said, I might be good at fixing them, but racing them’s