The Taylor TurboChaser

by David Baddiel

  “My old one, I suppose.”

  “But one wheel doesn’t work!”

  “Well. I suppose he thinks it won’t come to that. That we’ll just convert the TurboChaser back to being a wheelchair. Which …” she shrugged her shoulders, “I suppose we will. He’s probably right, anyway. It probably is illegal and dangerous and—”

  “Your dad’s quite a pill, isn’t he?” interrupted Janet.

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s something my mum says. It doesn’t mean that he’s a small thing like medicine that you have to swallow.”

  “Yes, I guessed that.”

  “It means he’s hard work. Like pills can be!”

  “Yes, well,” said Amy. “He didn’t use to be. He was really nice. Once. But then after my accident … I don’t know … that’s when he got more … cold.”

  “Is that when he left?” said Janet, who tended to put things bluntly.

  “Um,” said Amy. “Yes.”

  Rahul looked up. “I’m so sorry, Amy. It’s all my fault. I should never have pimped it.”

  “I’m not allowed to use that phrase either.”

  “Oh.”

  “But it isn’t your fault. I wanted you to do that. I don’t want something that crawls along; I want something that flies!”

  “What, in the air?” said Janet.

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” said Rahul.

  “No! I mean along the road. I dreamt of it being … well, like it is.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The Taylor TurboChaser.”

  Rahul nodded and sighed. “I suppose there’s nothing we can do. I’ll start taking it apart tonight.”

  “Yes,” said Amy. The bell rang for the end of break. Amy started turning her wheelchair round. And then round again. And then again.

  Suddenly a stern but kind voice rang out over the playground. “Amy Taylor! Are you intending to join us for the rest of the day?”

  Amy turned to see Mr Carter, the head teacher, standing by the door, holding it open.

  “Rahul,” she said, “can you … um … push me back to class, please?”

  Rahul started pushing.

  “Any time today!” called Mr Carter.

  Janet grabbed the other handle of the wheelchair and, together, she and Rahul started running. Someone had left a football on the ground – Amy steered round it!

  Then swerved left, past an abandoned jumper!

  Then slalomed round a rucksack, a new kid looking lost and a cone that had been left out from a PE lesson!

  Which was all quite difficult with a dodgy wheel, but – powered by Rahul and Janet, at least – she managed it.

  They screeched through the door and into the corridor.

  “Well done!” said Mr Carter, as they slowed down and he shut the door. “You’ll be a racing driver one day, Amy.”

  Amy looked at him. “No,” she said sadly. “Not now, I won’t.”

  Back at home, Amy lay on her bed.

  All around the room, on the walls, were pictures of cars cut out of magazines: the DB5, the Gullwing, the E-Type, and many others.

  Normally, Amy liked to rest her eye on these when she was in her bedroom. But today, her view was blocked by her old wheelchair, which was parked next to her bed. She sighed, knowing she could always look round it – but it felt to her that even if she moved her head, all she would see was the contrast between those cars and her chair, with its still-wonky wheel.

  Instead, she looked at one other picture in her room, a framed one by her bed.

  She reached over and lifted it closer to her – it was from a family holiday they had taken about five years ago. Her dad had been driving what was then the family car – an old classic called a Bristol, which he’d reconditioned himself – but had suddenly stopped by a lake in the country and insisted everyone got out so he could take a photo. He had set up his camera on a timer so he could be in it too.

  Her mum and dad stood in the middle of the picture, their arms round each other. On the right-hand side stood Jack, not making a stupid face or a rude gesture to camera, or anything, and on their left, Amy.

  They were all laughing, even Jack. Amy looked at it now and tried to remember what had been so funny. She shook her head. It had gone. All she could remember was that they all seemed to laugh a lot more in those days.

  A tear started to mist up her vision. There was a knock on the door. Amy didn’t much like crying, or feeling sorry for herself – and, certainly, she didn’t like to be seen crying, or feeling sorry for herself – so she wiped it away.

  Her mum came in.

  “Are you all right, love?”

  Suzi came and sat on the edge of Amy’s bed.

  “Yes, Mum,” Amy said. “It’s fine. Whatever.”

  Suzi, like any mum, knew that the words “it’s fine” and “whatever”, when said by her child, always meant the opposite.

  “Amy …” she said, “I know you really loved what Rahul did to your wheelchair, the … Kerb-O-Blaster …”

  “TurboChaser!” said Amy.

  “Right.”

  “It wasn’t just what Rahul did to it, Mum.” Amy looked at her car posters. “It was … driving the TurboChaser. It was the best, Mum. It felt nearly … nearly like flying. Or something.”

  Suzi nodded.

  “I thought maybe …” Amy continued, “somehow … I could end up racing it. Somewhere.” She shrugged. “Stupid idea, I know. And now I never will, anyway.”

  Suzi smiled. She pointed at the only poster in the room that wasn’t of a car. Which they had put up after the accident, during Amy’s long physio sessions.

  “What does that poster say, Amy?” she said.

  “You know what it says. It’s one of your inspirational quotes. It’s got a sunset behind it.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Believe in yourself,” Amy said wearily, “and the rest will fall into place.”

  “Exactly,” said Suzi. “If you believe you’re going to drive a car in a race – maybe not the Trouble-Racer …”

  “TurboChaser!”

  “Right. TurboChaser. At some point, you will drive a car in a race. I know you will.”

  “But how, Mum? How?”

  “I dunno …” said Suzi, shaking her head. “Only those who dare to fail greatly achieve greatly. Trust your instincts – they’ll never betray you. I get knocked down, but I get up again! If you want to see the big picture, look out for the tiny detail.”

  “Those are just more inspirational quotes!”

  “Yes. You’re right. Apart from the ‘I get knocked down’ one. I think that’s an old pop song.”

  “So how do they help? What do they even mean?”

  “I don’t know exactly, darling. All I know is they help me, at least a bit, when things don’t feel so good. Now time for sleep. It’s Saturday tomorrow! A new day. And Always think of every new day as a new—”

  “OK, Mum. Enough quotes already.”

  Suzi nodded.

  “Got it.”

  She kissed her daughter on the forehead and went out. Amy smiled to herself – she knew her mum was trying her best to make her feel better. Even if the quotes sometimes just seemed to be nonsense.

  Just before she fell asleep, though, one of them came back into her head: If you want to see the big picture, look out for the tiny detail. Hmm … That was kind of a weird one. And it made her think of something – about the photo she had just been looking at before her mum came in.

  She reached over, clicked on her bedside light and picked up the photo again. She brought it close to her face. The car door was open, and on the passenger seat was lying … a map. The Bristol, being an old car, hadn’t had a sat nav. So instead, there was a map, on the seat, which had a route marked out on it in pen, a long arrow running all the way from the south to the north of the country.

  A thought came to her, a crazy, mad, wild thought. She rolled off the bed, and on to her chair. Quietly, so as not to disturb her mum, who
was in the living room watching telly, she wheeled herself out into the hall, where their phone was, and dialled a number.

  “Hello? Rahul?” she said. “You haven’t started taking the TurboChaser apart yet, have you? No. Good. Oh, you’re about to? Well …”

  She took a deep breath and said: “Don’t. I have a plan …”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” said Jack, helping his sister put on a dark top to match her dark trousers.

  “Shh,” said Amy.

  “I’m already whispering,” he said.

  “No, you’re not. You don’t even know how loud your voice is since it broke. You’ll wake Mum up!”

  “You’ll wake Mum up!”

  “Now is not the time to do the repeating thing. But if you must, do it in a whisper!”

  It was midnight. Jack had on black clothes too. He brought her chair – the old one – round to the side of her bed. As he helped her into it, he said, “Shall we leave a note for Mum?”

  Amy frowned. “I thought about that. But we’ll be there by tomorrow, if everything goes according to plan. Then we can call her, first thing.”

  Jack nodded, although he looked a bit doubtful. He settled her into her chair, crouched down and looked directly at her.

  “OK? You sure you want to do this?”

  Amy looked up. She could see his face, lit by the hallway light outside her door. His expression was, she thought, amazingly serious. It had been a long time since she had seen it look like that.

  “Yes,” she said, “I’m sure.”

  Amy had always known she would need Jack’s help. She needed someone to assist her in getting from her house to Sanjay’s garage. Which, even though it was only a few streets away, was not easy – she was, after all, disabled. Plus her wheelchair, the old one that hadn’t been made into a supercar, didn’t go forward in a straight line, unless someone else was pushing it.

  When she’d first approached Jack with her mad, crazy, wild idea, the conversation had gone like this:

  “Let me get this straight,” Jack had said. “Your plan is to drive to Scotland, to show Dad your insane vehicle, and you think he’s going to be pleased? Oh, and he’s leaving for Japan on Sunday and it’s currently Friday night.”

  “Yes,” Amy had replied, nodding.

  “In that … crazy wheelchair thing that Rahul made?”

  “The Taylor TurboChaser. Yes.”

  “Are you on drugs? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Probably. I mean, not the first one. The second.”

  “On the motorway?”

  “No, I think I lost it somewhere round here.”

  “Ha ha.” This was not a real ha ha. “Good meme.” This was not real praise. “You’re going to drive that thing – with your friends – on the motorway? For, like, six hundred kilometres?”

  “No. Back roads. Late at night. When there’s hardly any other cars around.”

  “Right.”

  Amy suddenly felt a bit scared. “It’s only just Scotland. I’ve checked it on the map. It’s only a few miles from the border with England.”

  “Oh, that makes all the difference.”

  “I just think if he sees what an amazing thing the TurboChaser is – and that we were able to drive it all that way – he’ll change his mind about it,” she said. She looked up at her brother. “Won’t he?”

  Jack made a face – not a particularly encouraging one.

  Amy sighed. “Is it a really stupid idea?” she said.

  “Amazingly,” said Jack. “Bad meme.”

  There was a short pause when Amy thought,OK, well, that’s that, then.

  Then Jack said, “I’ll come to your room at midnight.”

  So that was how Amy managed – still not at all sure why Jack had decided to help her, but happy, because he was good at carrying her, and at pushing her wobbly-wheeled chair – to get to Sanjay’s garage at a quarter past midnight on a Friday night.

  When they arrived at the industrial estate, they went into the warehouse via the back door, and then through to the garage itself, where, waiting, were Rahul and … was it Janet? Oh yes, thought Amy, with a weary inward sigh, it was.

  “Janet!” said Amy. “I told you to wear dark clothes! We’re hoping not to be seen!”

  “I know. But all my dark clothes were in the wash.”

  “So you chose to wear … a fairy costume?”

  Which was indeed what Janet was wearing. A pink satin dress, with a pink crown and glittery wings.

  “Yes,” said Janet. “I had it left over from a fancy-dress party. I thought it might come in useful.”

  Amy stared at her. “In what way?”

  Janet frowned. “I haven’t really worked that out yet.”

  “OK. Never mind. Rahul, have we got everything we need?”

  “I think so. Janet’s done the food.”

  Janet held up a big plastic bag marked LODLIL.

  “Hmm,” said Amy.

  “And for everything else, I’ve raided a whole load of stuff from the warehouse.”

  “Won’t your dad miss any of it?”

  “Well, we can put it all back when we come back. It’s all in the car now.”

  “The car?”

  “The TurboChaser, of course.”

  Amy smiled, excited just at the passing, casual way Rahul had referred to her new wheelchair as a car. Maybe, now, it really was.

  “OK,” she said. “Did you manage to fit everything in?”

  “Oh yeah,” said Rahul. “I’ve carried on working on it. It’s got windows now!”

  “Windows?”

  “Well, cat flaps.”

  “Pardon?” said Amy.

  “I found these cat flaps in the warehouse. I don’t think they sold because they’re very, very big. Maybe they were designed for lions?”

  “Right. Yes. That probably is why they didn’t sell. What with no one having one of those for a pet.”

  “Yes. So anyway, I’ve cut big rectangles in the fish tanks for them, and you can slide them open for ventilation. And even use them to get in and out of the car. Because also we don’t have doors.”

  “OK …” said Amy.

  “Right,” said Jack, who had been quiet so far. “So where is this car?” He landed heavily on the word “car” with all his teenage-boy sarcasm. “Where is the Fart-On Burpo-Your-Facer that’s supposedly going to take you all to Scotland?”

  “Good meme,” said Amy sarcastically.

  “It’s called the Taylor TurboChaser,” said Janet.

  “Thanks, Tinkerbell,” said Jack. “Anyway. Where is it?”

  “It’s under here!” said Rahul, who didn’t really get sarcasm. He moved towards the centre of the garage, where something stood covered by an enormous black piece of tarpaulin. “I’ve been keeping it protected; it’s a bit damp in here.”

  And, with something of a flourish, like he was a magician on stage, he pulled off the tarpaulin.

  “Oh. My. Days …” said Jack.

  “And. Mine,” said Amy. “You have added to it. Wow!”

  Rahul beamed proudly.

  The machine he was standing next to was now about twice as big as it had been previously. It still had two upside-down fish tanks making up the basic structure, but an old chest, like something out of a pirate ship, had been screwed on the back to make a boot. There were still four chairs, but the three passenger ones now had different-coloured covers: red, green and rainbow. On the front were a series of torches and lanterns, and something that looked a bit like a standard lamp from an office. A tall chimney-like structure stood out on top of the roof.

  The car sat squat on four enormous tyres that looked, at least on this vehicle, like they were taken from a monster truck. There were, indeed, four enormous cat flaps cut into the sides of the fish tanks. All over the whole thing there were small bits and pieces that, frankly, didn’t look at all like they belonged there. They certainly didn’t look like normal parts of any car Amy had seen before.

/>   And on the front of it was a number plate, on which Rahul had carefully painted TAYTURB1.

  “Is Amy’s wheelchair even still in there?” said Jack.

  “Yes!” said Rahul. “Mobilcon really know their onions. The wheelchair is the heart of the TurboChaser. I’ve just … added to it.”

  “Do they actually make onions as well?” said Janet.

  Amy rolled her eyes. “And it … still moves?” she said.

  “Oh yes,” said Rahul. “It’s powerful!”

  “Oh, hang on,” said Amy. “What about its carbon footprint? I forgot to ask about that.”

  “Neutral! It’s electric. Get in, I’ll show you some of its new tricks!”

  The four of them approached the car. Then stopped.

  “How do we get in?” said Janet. “Since it doesn’t have any doors.”

  “Good start,” said Jack.

  “Don’t worry,” said Rahul. “We just squeeze in through the giant cat flaps. Well, you and I can, Janet – we’re small enough.”

  “And me?” said Jack.

  “Well,” said Rahul, “Amy said you weren’t coming.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Jack. “Course.”

  “For you, Amy,” Rahul continued, “I think we’ll have to lift up the right-hand fish tank.”

  He pointed. One of the upside-down fish tanks had a handle on the side, which looked as if it might normally belong on an old fridge.

  “This handle was from an old fridge,” said Rahul, grabbing it and straining a bit.

  “Yes, I thought so,” said Amy. “Do you need a hand?”

  “No, it’s OK. I designed it to be …”

  “Really difficult?” said Jack, putting his slightly bigger hand on the handle.

  The two of them managed to heave it open, and then Rahul, Janet and Amy – with quite a lot of clambering over each other, and Jack having to lift Amy almost above his head to get her into the driving one – got in the seats. Amy was in the front; Rahul in the passenger seat; Janet in the back,with an empty seat next to her – which was good as it gave her room to spread her glittery wings.

  Jack stood by, watching.

  “So,” said Rahul to Amy, “it still drives like it did before. The brakes, by the way – you kind of missed them last time – are here, in the centre of the steering wheel.”