"Little girl," said Vag, "don't run away as I shall not bother to chase you." The young lady in question started at Vag, as he sat behind the wheel of his sports car, and then she cautiously approached.

"What do you want?" she said hesitantly.

Vag raised his eyebrow (disdainfully) and inquired, "Would you be so kind as to tell me how to get to Mount Belknap?"

"Are you going to the sports car race?"

Vag looked about the countryside, at the farm houses and the billboards, and replied, "Why else would I come to this section of the country?"

The young lady raised her eyebrows and said, "Go down the road for a few miles and turn right at the sign."

A few minutes later Vag arrived at the foot of the mountain where the contestants for the Fourth Annual Belknap Hill Climb were gathered. Vag downshifted to decrease speed and increase noise as he drove past the M.G.'s, the Austin Healey's, and the Porsches. He finally parked his car between an Aceca Bristol and a Veloce. After a cursory glance at his surroundings, Vag strode over to a group of drivers. They were listening to a young man in a blue coverall who was standing atop a blue Porsche.

"This race is sanctioned," said the young man, "by the Intercollegiate Sports Car Authority. It will probably be the determining factor in the New England Collegiate Championships. We have had no fatalities in this race. We don't intend to. If one driver rolls his car, that's all. If a driver spins out or has four wheels off the track, he will be disqualified. Drivers will go up the course one at a time. They will be timed automatically. The best time wins." He looked at the drivers. "Any questions?"

The drivers dispersed. Vag strode over to the young man in blue and said, "I should like to enter the hill climbing event."

"You want to compete?"

"I should like to participate. I never compete."

"Oh. Has your car passed the technical inspection?"

"My car is in perfect condition. Moreover, it is untouched by American hands."

"Well, we'll check it anyhow. In the meantime, here's a map of the track. You go up the hill, around the circle on top twice, and then finish on this straight-away. Your number is 56."

Vag then passed the technical inspection by removing his hub caps and proving that his brakes worked evenly and immediately on all four wheels. He also taped up his headlights. After the inspection, he went back to his parking space to tape the number 56 on his car. Shortly, another driver joined him.

"Are you going to take your windshield off, it reduces drag considerably."

Vag stared at him for a moment and said, "It may reduce drag, but without the windshield dirt flies about my face and hands. The windshield remains where it is." Vag finished taping on the number.

"That used to be my number," the other driver said as Vag started to drive to the starting point for a trial run."

"Really?" said Vag.

"Yes," he said, "I wish you better luck with it than I had."

Vag ignored the last comment and shifted from first to second. At the starting line he tightened his seat belt, wiped his goggles, and fastened his helmet.

"Whenever you're ready," said the starter. "And don't try too hard, it's only your first run."

"I never try hard," said Vag as he released the clutch. He kept his gas pedal floored as he whirled his way from first to second and then to third gear. At the peak of the hill he downshifted and screeched into the first turn into the circle. Through the turn he went into third and then, entering the far turn, he downshifted again, waved to a photographer, smiled at the girl who waved the green flag, and screeched off. A few moments later he stepped out of the car and heard his time announced on the public address system, "One minute, fifty-seven seconds."

He stalked off up the mountainside to watch the races. At the first turn Vag seated himself upon a tree stump and watched a white Jaguar roar up the slope. The car was driven by a girl.

"She's all right in my book," said one fan, "she sure can drive."

"Does she own the car?" inquired Vag.

"Yes."

Vag watched her performance intently. The Alfa Romeos came next. The first came into the turn too quickly and hit the brakes. The right rear wheel locked and the Alfa blasted through the hay bales. No injury and no damage resulted. Vag watched the second Alfa, a white one, repeat the process.

"Hey, you, help us pull the car out."

Vag shrugged his shoulders, put on his gloves, and lifted the car back to the track. Then he checked his watch, and strode briskly down the hill for his turn.

The car behaved well and when he strode from the car his time was announced. "Hey," called someone, "you did better than that on your trial run. Weren't you trying?"

"Of course not," said Vag, as he began the drive home.