Read Fastback Beach for Free Online Page A

valves?”
    â€œSure did. No problem as long as I work on them after school under his supervision.”
    As we pull the valves Ned asks, “Any plans for this summer?”
    â€œI’m hoping to score a job of some kind. My girlfriend, Kenny — Mackenzie Mo-rash — has a job waitressing at Pelican Beach Resort at the lake. Maybe I can work at the marina keeping the rental boats running.”
    â€œYour girlfriend is Ace Morash’s daughter?”
    â€œYeah. You know him?”
    Ned laughs. “Since he was a hot-rod kid — but he’s a solid businessman now.”
    â€œYeah, and still a good guy.”
    Ned laughs. “What do you plan on doing when you graduate next year, Miles?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” I reply. “But I hope that fast cars are in my future, same as in my past.”
    I can still hear the roar of the crowds, cheering The Team to the finish line. The checkered flag waved. The Team had won. Our pit was suddenly overflowing with people. Everyone wanted to get The Team’s autographs and pictures.
    â€œHere’s the real hero,” Duke said, holding me by the shoulders in front of him as flashbulbs popped. “Miles, my son, our mascot, he brings us good luck.” A blonde-haired lady leaned down and gave me a peck on the cheek. “For continued good luck,” she said.
    My picture was in the paper next day, standing with Dad’s hands on my shoulders. The blonde lady was kissing me, and another beautiful lady was kissing Dad. Mom opened the front page of the Sports section … and Dad left a week later.

Chapter Thirteen
    â€œHey, man, let’s go!” Larry calls from his car.
    Kenny and I are sitting on the curb in front of the school, waiting for Ned.
    â€œCan’t tonight, Lark.”
    â€œIt’s your call, man.”
    Larry’s car has an automatic transmission and his big trick is to apply the brake and gas at the same time. This makes the engine roar and the car kind of twists up. I hearsome kids laugh as they watch, half-hanging out classroom windows.
    Megan grabs my arm as she rushes past. “Come on! There’s room for you and Kenny in the back!” She attempts to pull us along.
    â€œSorry, we’ve got some work to do in the shop.”
    Four others in the car groan and jeer. “Trying to make the honor roll?”
    â€œNo, we’ve got some extra mechanical work to do,” Kenny says.
    â€œYeah? What?”
    â€œWe have to grind some heads,” she says before I can stop her.
    Larry tells his passengers to shut up and leans out the window with a sudden look of interest on his face. “You’re doing the heads for the
rod?
Catch you later then.” Larry blasts off.
    When Ned arrives I introduce him to Kenny.
    Ned shakes her hand. “Hello, I’m Ned Barnier.”
    â€œHi. My dad has talked about you.”
    â€œHe has?” Ned looks pleased.
    Kenny nods. “Sure. You’re one of the original hot-rodders around here.”
    â€œAre you like your grandfather—born with a wrench in your hand?”
    Kenny grins.
    We go back to the shop to meet our instructor, Mr. Santonio.
    â€œWell, Ned Barnier! It’s a privilege,” Mr. Santonio says.
    â€œYou know each other?” I ask.
    â€œEveryone on the hot-rod scene knows Ned Barnier. We watched him run at the Shepard drag strip in the ’60s. And I’ve seen that little ’37 coupe of Ned’s at events.”
    We get to work.
    â€œWhile we have these heads apart let’s measure valve-stem clearance,” Ned says to his two eager students.
    We use a micrometer to check the valve-stem wear on every valve by measuring a worn and unworn section.
    â€œOne-thousandth wear is okay, “Mr. Santonio says. “Two thou’ is borderline.”
    They’re fine. Now we set each head up on a machine to mill out the seats.
    We become so involved that nobody notices the