Ahead now the road was straight but ran over a series of hills. Woody recalled that stretch and knew that there was perhaps three-quarters of a mile of it with a series of S-bends, followed by a hairpin at the end.
"Give her the gun," the voice inside him said again. It was still Randy's voice. Woody opened the throttle, his foot pressed to the floor board, and the Black Tiger flung down the track. Woody looked at his speedometer. One hundred and ten, one hundred and twenty, one hundred and thirty. He saw a Jag ahead and flashed past so close he could, for a second, feel the warmth of the other's exhaust. He was doing a hundred and forty plus when he entered the S-bends and braked down.
On the first bend, the Black Tiger nearly turned over. She seemed to crouch over on her side, and Woody's foot slipped off the accelerator. But then she recovered, veered a little under his unsteady hands at the wheel, and shot off for the next bend. Woody decided to straighten that one out. He would cut the corners on it and take the risk that there might be a car ahead hidden from him. There wasn't a car ahead, but on the third of the S-bends, which lay just over the top of a hill, there was one right in the spot he was aiming at.
Without knowing quite why he did it, Woody changed down to third and, reacting instinctively, pulled the Black Tiger over and hit the gas. She went by the car—a Jag—in a cloud of dust.
Then came the hairpin. If Woody had not changed down on the last S-bend he would certainly never have made the corner. As it was he had to hit his brakes until all four wheels screamed their protest. But he managed to claw around the hairpin.
The next time he passed the start-finish line he saw Worm again for a brief flash holding up the blackboard. On it was a big figure 4.
For the next four laps Woody held his position, neither passing anybody nor being passed. But he became more familiar with the track. Bends no longer appeared unexpectedly before him. He found the reason why he had nearly turned over on the one S-bend before the hairpin. It was banked in the wrong direction so that the weight of a car cornering on it was thrown downhill.
This piece of knowledge tucked into his mind he determined to put to good use if he could get within passing distance of the Ferrari ahead. If he could get on the near side of the Ferrari on that S-bend, the driver would either have to let him by or run the risk of turning over in making the corner.
It took him two laps to get into position for the try. All the while he studied the driver's tactics. He belonged to the close-cornering school. He went into all his bends as near to the inside as he could, and only skidded away from that position when he was most of the way around. If he did that on the first S-bend, he wouldn't be able to do it on the second, for he would have skidded wide, Woody told himself. That would give him an opportunity to take over the inside position and pass.
The plan worked to perfection. The driver of the Ferrari took the first S tight in against the corner and went wide for the second. Woody saw his braking lights flash and a gap just big enough for him to get through on the inside of the track. It would be there for only a second. But Woody jammed his foot down hard on the accelerator and shot through. When he passed Worm again, the figure on the blackboard was 3.