Frank and Joe walked down the driveway to where Chet, Biff and Tony were working on the jalopy. Just as the Hardys approached, Chet put the hood down.
“Looks like we're just in time,” Frank said. “Is she road worthy?”
“Better than ever!” Chet exclaimed. “I was just about to take her for a spin.”
Joe explained to the three boys that they needed to make a trip to Elmira to look at a racecar that was just put up for sale. Chet quickly volunteered to drive, and Tony volunteered to stay behind in case the Hardys needed someone to do some online research while they were gone.
Frank, Joe, Chet and Biff quickly headed down the state highway, past the Seneca Lodge where Mr. Cohen was staying, and towards Elmira. Chet opened it up a little and let the new carburetor under the hood bring the old jalopy well in excess of the speed limit.
“Easy there big fella,” Joe said. “This isn't the backstretch at The Glen! Let's leave the speed for the professionals!”
“Good idea,” Chet said and he backed the speed down to the legal limit. After a few more minutes, Chet noticed a motorcyle quickly approaching from behind. Before the boys knew it, the motorcycle was alongside and the rider was peering over at them through his full-face helmet. He reached into his leather jacket and in an instant a loud bang was heard and the jalopy was out of control!
Chet fought for control as the motorcyle sped off into the distance. The mysterious rider had shot out the front tire of the jalopy and Chet nearly found himself in the same ditch the Hardys ended up in just a few hours earlier.
“Did you get the license number on that motorcycle Joe?” Frank said as he struggled to catch his breath. “I couldn't get it. All I know is that was some sort of foreign motorcycle.”
“I didn't get the license either, Frank. We need to report this to the local police. I am afraid we've gotten outselves into something we might not be able to get out of.”
Chet had climbed out of the jalopy and was visibly shaken. He trembled as he looked at the tire that was now torn to shreds under the front fender.
“Chet, that was some dandy driving right there,” Joe said reassuringly. “I don't know many men outside of a professional racecar driver that could have saved that. Maybe you have a new career in front of you.”
The Hardys quickly got the jack out of the trunk and Biff and Chet quickly changed the tire. In less than ten minutes, the boys were back on the road to Elmira.
The followed the directions on their GPS down a narrow lane to a small ramshackle house. In the driveway was parked a blue pickup truck that was nearly as old as Chet's jalopy. It hardly looked like the place a valuable racecar would be kept, even if it was stolen.
They knocked on the door and were met by a gray-haired gentleman that appeared to be several years older than their father.
“You the boys I spoke to on the phone?” he said gruffly. “You want to look at the racecar?”
“Sure thing,” Joe said. “We're working with a man from New York that wants to enter a car in the race this weekend.”
“Let's go out to the barn and I'll show you what I have.”
The four boys walked to the barn with the older gentleman, who had yet to offer his name.
“I am Frank Hardy, this is my brother Joe and our friends Chet and Biff,” Frank said. “May we ask your name?”
The man kept walking toward the barn at the back of the property. The boys started feeling nervous since their strange host offered no response to their query.
As they reached the barn, Frank noticed the door was ajar. Just as the old gentleman went to reach for it, the door opened quickly from the inside! The man was knocked backwards and a man wearing a motorcycle helmet and leather jacket sprinted past him and dashed into the woods!
Joe took off into the woods after him without giving any thought to what the rider had done to the front tire of Chet's jalopy just a few minutes earlier. Joe, a star on the Bayport High School track team, quickly caught up to his adversary and attempted to tackle him.
But before Joe could subdue him, the man swung and connected to Joe's jaw with a solid right hook! Joe fought back and landed a solid jab to the man's ribs, but the helmet meant for protection on the road meant Joe had no chance. The man swung Joe around and took one more wild swing, connecting solidly into Joe's solar plexus!
Joe crumpled to the ground and the man disappeared into the woods. Frank arrived on the scene and helped his brother to his feet. They walked the short distance back to the barn where Chet and Biff were assisting the old gentleman with a slight cut to his forehead.
“This is Oma Kimbrough,” Chet said. “He owns a racecar that he keeps here in the barn.”
“And I don't have my hearing aids in boys, so that's why I didn't hear you as we were walking to the barn. Many years of being around these loud racecars have cost me much of my hearing I'm afraid.”
“Hear that Chet,” Joe said.
“He does now, ask him again in fifteen years!” Frank laughed.
“In any case, the years have finally caught up to me and maintaining a racecar is just not something I can do so I decided to put it up for sale since many racers are going to be in the area this week. Chet here told me you were thinking this might be Mr. Cohen's stolen racecar but I have all the paperwork inside. I am glad to show you if you'd like.”
“That won't be necessary Mr. Kimbrough,” Frank said. “We'll take you on your word. Besides, if your car was the stolen one, why would someone be trying to steal it for the second time today?”
Frank and Joe filled Mr. Kimbrough in on the details of the theft earlier in the day, and then discussed the theory that a ring of racecar thieves was operating in the area.
“I don't come out to the barn as often as I used to, but I have noticed some of my things have come up missing lately,” Kimbrough said. “Nothing major, but a tool here or a piece of equipment there. I figured I loaned it to someone and just didn't remember but now that you're saying there are thieves in the area it's putting me on edge.”
“Mr. Kimbrough, we're relieved you're okay,” Joe said. “Thank you for your time, you've been a lot of help.”
“And if you don't mind, maybe I could come back tomorrow and look under the hood of that beast in there,” Chet said.
“Actually, that is a great idea Chet,” Frank said. “Now that we know that car is a target, having at least one of us here is smart.”
Kimbrough and Chet agreed to meet again the next day and the boys climbed back into the jalopy for the ride back to the Hardy lake house.
Frank called Tony Prito from the back seat.
“Tony, have you seen anything from our dad come in via email?” he asked.
“No, I haven't. No word at all. But Mr. Cohen is here. He said there is a new development in the case. You should get back here as quick as possible.”
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