The Taylor TurboChaser

by David Baddiel

  “OH HEAVENS!” said Rahul. “IT’S JUST AN EXPRESSION! SOMETHING PEOPLE SAY! But …” he continued, calming down, “as it happens, we kind of will be running on gas now. If my idea works out. Because one thing cow poo contains is of course … methane! Which is a gas. Through which we can make the poo into a biofuel. Well done, Janet!”

  “Thanks!” said Janet. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

  “So …” said Rahul. “Who’s going to help me get this poo out of the crate and into the right part of the engine?”

  The other children looked at each other.

  Then, very deliberately, Amy put her hand up.

  And said, “I can’t. I’m disabled.”

  In the end, Amy did help, holding the bonnet – it wasn’t really a bonnet. It was lots of metal trays welded together, but it served as a bonnet – up.

  Meanwhile, Rahul twiddled around underneath, and Janet and Jack were given the job of lifting up the cow-poo crate, ready to pour.

  “Hold your end higher!” shouted Janet.

  “What, closer to my nose?” said Jack.

  “It has to be diagonal for us to pour it!”

  “Oh, suddenly you’re an expert at geometry?”

  “I’ll slam you up against me tree in a minute!”

  “That is literally the worst joke I have ever heard!”

  “I’m laughing at it,” said Amy.

  “Can you two stop arguing?” said Rahul. “And you stop laughing, Amy – I’m trying to concentrate!” He bent down, and then gestured for them to step forward. He had put a funnel into a section of the engine. “OK … into there. Pour the manure!”

  And they did. While both going, “UUURR-GGGHHHH!”

  A few seconds later, they were all back in the car.

  “OK, Amy,” said Rahul, “let’s try and start her up again.”

  “Do you think it’s going to work?”

  Rahul shook his head. “Only one way to find out.”

  Amy nodded, and pressed the “on” switch.

  Nothing happened.

  “Oh dear,” said Rahul.

  “No,” said Amy. “Come on. It’s like the sat nav. We have to believe this will work.”

  “Yes, everybody,” said Jack. “Believe in poo.”

  Amy turned round. “SHUT UP, JACK!”

  Jack started doing his stupid voice: “SHUT U—”

  “I MEAN IT. SHUT UP. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU BEING SARCASTIC AND CYNICAL AND THINKING IT’S FUNNY JUST TO REPEAT STUFF BACK IN A STUPID VOICE. OK, SOMETIMES IT IS FUNNY. BUT NOT ALWAYS. IF YOU’RE MY BROTHER, AND YOU LOVE ME, YOU WILL DO WHAT I SAY, WHICH IS, TO BELIEVE THAT THIS WILL WORK.”

  There was a pause, during which Jack looked a little ashamed.

  “You sound like Mum,” he said sulkily. “With her silly quotes about how if you believe in your dreams, they’ll all come true.”

  “Yes,” said Amy. “They are silly. But you know what? A lot of her quotes have come into my head all through this journey. And they’ve helped. They really have. So … please, Jack.”

  He looked at her. “OK,” he said. “I’ll give it a go.”

  “I was believing it already,” said Janet.

  “Thank you, Janet,” said Amy.

  “Although that didn’t work.”

  “Yes, it might if we do it all together, though. Ready. Steady …” She turned back to the steering wheel. “BELIEVE!”

  And they all did. Jack even closed his eyes. Janet scrunched her face up, as if she was believing really hard.

  And Amy flicked the “on” switch.

  And

  nothing

  happened.

  “Oh,” Amy said. “That always works in films and stuff.”

  There was a pause. No one quite knew what to say.

  Then Rahul said, “You could try it again.”

  “OK,” said Amy. She flicked the switch, off and then on. And it worked! The engine fired and the car, with another big groan, trembled into life!

  “Brilliant!” said Rahul.

  “Amazing!” said Amy.

  “Fantastic!” said Jack.

  “I wasn’t believing then, though,” said Janet. “Oh, I was,” said Jack.

  “So was I,” said Rahul.

  “Well, I wasn’t!” said Janet. “I wasn’t ready. You didn’t do the build-up. Y’know – the ready, steady … you didn’t do that.”

  “OK,” said Amy.

  “But I don’t really feel I did anything now.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Can you turn it off and do it again?” said Janet.

  Amy shook her head and drove back on to the road, towards Scotland.

  “ETA 11:45 at destination,” said the sat nav.

  “Yay!” said Amy.

  The Taylor Automotive Test Facility, an offshoot of Taylor Automotive Design, was a large black building at the top of a hill. Behind it was a long, wide track that twisted and turned into many shapes.

  Because the Taylor Automotive Test Facility was a place Peter Taylor took the cars he had designed – very fast supercars, if you remember – to test them out. Raced them, basically. Yes. People actually get paid to do that.

  Amy was very excited when it came into view. They drove round the corner of the road from the border – the children all cheered when they went past the WELCOME TO SCOTLAND sign – and saw the Facility, some way above them. It helped to take their minds off the smell of burning cow poo, which was suffusing the inside of the car.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Amy said to Jack. “Where Dad works.”

  “I think so. I was only eight.”

  “Haven’t you ever been here before, Amy?” said Rahul.

  Amy paused before saying, “No.”

  There was another pause, as she turned the Taylor TurboChaser off the main road, on to the smaller one leading up the hill. The sky was darkening slightly, as if it was about to rain.

  “Dad came to live – and work – up here after he and Mum split up,” said Jack. “He brought me up once and showed me round, but … not Amy.”

  “He’s sent me some photos, though,” said Amy, sounding cheerful, in a slightly forced way. “And I’ve seen it on the internet.”

  No one said anything again. Except Janet, who said, “I feel sick.”

  The TurboChaser carried on up the hill. The road was very winding, and, as well as the bad smell emanating from the engine, the car was starting to make a lot of very strange noises – not just groans now, but squeals and grunts and scrapings. Plus it was shaking a lot, like it had a bad fever.

  “Is it OK?” said Amy to Rahul.

  Rahul shrugged.

  “Because I really wouldn’t want it to conk out now. Apart from anything,” she continued, “I’ve come to think of it – the car – as part of our gang.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, sort of like a friend. Sort of like a real person. Is that stupid?”

  “No,” said Rahul. “I mean it’s wrong. But it’s not stupid.”

  The car shook again as he said this, but by now they were approaching the last corner, and then there they were outside the front of the building. Amy stopped the car, but she didn’t turn off the engine just yet.

  “You have reached your final destination,” said the sat nav.

  And the children all cheered. And they carried on cheering, right up until, from behind the building, came Suzi Taylor’s van.

  The van drove up to the TurboChaser.

  “Quick!” said Janet. “Turn round.”

  Amy looked round behind her. As she suspected, the road back down the hill was now cut off by DCI Bryant’s and PC Middleton’s police car, and one other police car. They had clearly all been waiting for them, hiding behind the building.

  “Oh no!” said Rahul.

  “It’s OK,” said Amy. “There’s no point in going backwards, anyway. This is where we were heading. We’re here now.”

  Out of the van came Suzi, Pris
ha, Sanjay, Colin and Norma. They walked over to the TurboChaser. With – in Suzi’s case, because of Colin’s enormous trousers – some difficulty.

  “Amy … darling …” said Suzi through the side cat flap, having finally got to the car. “I know this has been something you really wanted to do – something really important to you – and I know you were desperate to show your dad how good at driving you are – but—”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Suzi!” said Prisha. “Stop talking to them like they’re teddy bears! RAHUL! GET OUT OF THAT STUPID CONTRAPTION NOW! HOW DARE YOU PUT US THROUGH ALL THIS, YOU BAD BOY! COME ON! GET OUT!”

  Rahul turned to Amy. “I think … I’d better get out.”

  Amy nodded. She touched his arm. “Thanks, Rahul … for everything. For this amazing journey.”

  Rahul smiled. “Thank you, Amy.” He shimmied through his cat flap and out of the car.

  “Hey! Janet!” said Norma. “How’s things?”

  “Fine, Mum!”

  “I’ve bought you some crisps!” said Colin, bringing out an enormous bag. “At a service station on the way. Baked-bean flavour!”

  “Brilliant!” said Janet, and within seconds she was out too.

  “Jack …” said Suzi, “I don’t know what to say to you. I know I should tell you off for helping Amy do this … but at the same time I want to thank you for looking after her … and, anyway, if I start talking seriously to you, you’ll just be sarcastic—”

  “I won’t, actually, Mum,” said Jack. He made to get out of the car. Just before he did, he put his arm on Amy’s shoulder. She looked round. He winked at her. “You did well,” he said, like a proper big brother.

  Then, finally, he got out.

  Amy watched as Rahul went over to his mum and dad. It looked for a second like Prisha, who raised her hand, was going to slap him round the head, but then she gave him a big hug instead. Suzi also gave Jack a big hug, although he looked a bit embarrassed about that.

  And Janet just tucked into her crisps, helped by Norma and Colin, almost as if she’d never been away.

  Then they all turned to look at Amy.

  “Shall we come and help you get out, Amy?” said Suzi.

  Amy shook her head.

  “Amy …” said Suzi.

  Amy shook her head again. A black cloud appeared above the Facility.

  “Amy, please …”

  “No, Mum. I’m not getting out,” she said. “Sorry, Mum. I’m not getting out until—”

  “Amy,” said her parent again.

  Only it was a much deeper voice. And a different parent.

  From out of the front doors of the building stepped – tall, wearing a black boiler suit, and frowning angrily – Peter Taylor.

  Amy watched her dad come towards the TurboChaser. She noticed he was also holding a crash helmet. She was frightened, but decided to pretend she wasn’t.

  “Hi, Dad!” she said, waving from inside the car. “Cool helmet! Can I have a look?”

  He tutted, but handed it through the cat flap.

  “Amy,” said her dad, as she ran her hands over the top of the helmet. “This is ridiculous. This whole thing. Doing all –” he waved a hand towards the body of the TurboChaser – “this to your wheelchair. And then driving it all the way up here! I can’t believe you made it! Even though I instructed Mobilcon to send out a retrieval drone!”

  “Oh, that was … you …”

  “I have no idea what happened to it.”

  “Um. Yeah. Me neither,” said Amy.

  “But that aside, it was far too dangerous for you to do this journey! With all these other children, including your brother! And – oh my God, what is that terrible smell? Anyway … what on earth were you thinking of?”

  Amy looked at his cross, scrunched face, his wagging, raised finger. And it came to her what the answer to his question was.

  I was thinking of YOU, Dad. I was thinking that I wanted you to see my amazing wheelchair-car. I wanted you to see how good I am at driving it. I suppose I thought that if you saw all that, you might think that I was … I don’t know … what you want me to be.

  That’s what I was thinking of.

  But she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she just drove off, leaving him standing there, open-mouthed.

  She didn’t know where she was going. She also couldn’t see where she was going, as her eyes had filled with tears.

  But she knew the one thing she felt OK about at the moment was driving. She felt like, despite the admittedly terrible smell, everything might be fine, as long as she could drive and never stop. Or at least, never get out of the car.

  Wiping her eyes, she could see, behind her, Suzi and the other parents get back into the van. Worryingly, she could also see the police cars moving off. And her dad, putting on a new helmet, joined by two other men in boiler suits. She drove as fast as she could round the Facility building. On the other side of it she could see, beneath her, the racing track. There was a small paved road that led directly to it.

  The black cloud that had been hanging in the sky for a while burst, and it began to rain hard.

  Amy drove down the hill to the racing track. Then she made what some might think is a strange decision. She turned on to the track, which was fenced on either side, there was a black and white line painted across it – a starting line.

  She stopped the TurboChaser there, put on the crash helmet, and waited.

  She only had to wait about thirty seconds before her mum’s van, two police cars and three supercars came charging down the road towards the track. Amy recognised the supercars straight away – they were Taylor GT 500s, her dad’s fastest design yet – all three were sparkling silver-grey and sat so low to the road (to reduce wind speed) they were almost flat.

  Just as the chasing convoy reached the starting line, Amy pushed the direction lever, revving the engine.

  “You have reached your final destination,” said the sat nav again.

  “Apparently not,” said Amy. And shot away.

  Immediately, the van, the police cars and the supercars gave chase. Amy pumped the lever as hard as she could. The TurboChaser screamed, but it moved.

  Wow, did it move.

  She had not been able, on the small country roads that they had driven on so far, to really push the engine and see how fast it could go. But now, on this wide racing track, she could.

  Oh my days. What is the actual acceleration on this, Amy found herself thinking, despite the situation, 0–60 in three seconds?

  But there was no time to indulge her inner petrolhead. She had to concentrate. The rain seemed to have stopped almost as soon as it had started, but it had left the road wet and greasy. The TurboChaser was shuddering with the speed.

  Meanwhile, in front of her, was the first turn on the track. It didn’t just turn hard, it banked – it rose to one side, on a steep diagonal. This meant she had to throw her weight to the side. Otherwise she could feel, on the wet road, the whole machine would’ve gone into a skid! How did she know to do this? It just seemed to come to her naturally.

  Other people, however, did not know it.

  As Amy banked round the turn and shot off into the long straight that followed it, she just saw, out of the corner of her rear-view mirror, DCI Bryant’s car go into that very skid.

  “AAAAAARGGGGGHHHH!” shouted DCI Bryant, as they went spinning round and round and round.

  “Turn the steering wheel the other way, sir!” shouted PC Middleton.

  “Are you sure? Aren’t you supposed to turn the steering wheel INTO a skid? AAARRGGH! WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?”

  “DO SOMETHING, SIR!”

  “I’M TRY—”

  BANG! The -ING of “TRYING” was lost as their car smashed into the side of a supercar driven by one of Peter Taylor’s test drivers. Both cars now went into a spin and ended up on the side of the track, taking the other police car with them.

  But Amy didn’t even see all that.

  She was speeding down
the end of the straight and starting to bank in the other direction. She could see, in her rear-view mirror, the two remaining supercars hard on her heels. Even with all that going on in her head, she thought, They look amazing! So sleek and streamlined, like two leopards chasing a hyena.

  Then it occurred to her that, in this analogy, she was the hyena – the prey. Which made her push on the lever even harder. She felt the wheels shudder underneath her, and again the car shook round the bank, but – again – she shifted her weight and got it under control.

  The last bend before coming back to the starting line was what on racing tracks is called a hairpin – meaning it’s shaped a bit like a hairpin, with a very sharp bend – and turning it at speed without crashing is very difficult. But Amy couldn’t slow down because the supercars were gaining on her.

  So she didn’t even brake – she just powered into the turn, going round as wide as possible, almost hitting the fence … but then pulling the car round at the last second and back into the home straight.

  And then she saw, coming up, another problem – her mum’s van. Which Suzi had – sensibly, given that it was a van (top speed 53 mph, acceleration 0–53 … in about six minutes) – decided not to enter into this strange race, but rather had left idling, sitting tight, on the starting line, waiting for her daughter and the TurboChaser to come back round again.

  When I say “sitting tight”, what I actually mean is sitting wide. The van was parked across the starting line. Blocking the way. And Suzi, Sanjay, Prisha, Colin and Norma had got out and were standing on either side of it, holding hands. And their faces were set.

  Amy looked to the side to see if she could swerve past them by going back on to the paved road from the Facility.

  But the opening in the fence that led to the track had been shut. There was no way to go but forward.

  Amy looked at her mum. She swallowed.

  “This is your final destination,” said the sat nav again.

  “Please stop saying that,” said Amy.

  The TurboChaser was heading directly either straight for the van or for one of the parents. It was a stand-off, a game of chicken. And, so far, none of the parents looked like they were going to chicken out. In a terrible moment, which she felt immediately bad about, it did cross Amy’s mind to think, Would anyone really miss Colin and Norma? And then she realised, yes, someone would – Janet.