High-Speed Showdown Read Online Free PDF

“What now?”
    Frank glanced at his watch. “We’ve got half an hour before our ride with Dennis,” he observed. “Why don’t we check out some of the exhibits? I’d like to get more of a feel for what’s happening.”
    They crossed the street to the fairgrounds and started down the first of the rows. The booths were a strange mixture. All sorts of food was available, from fried potato curls and Pennsylvania Dutch funnel cakes to Middle Eastern pastries and Oriental spring rolls. Frank was sure he had seen some of the same booths at the Founders Day street fair a few weeks earlier.
    Some of the merchandise booths looked veryfamiliar, too. There were racks of CDs and video-cassettes, and piles of unlabeled T-shirts and jeans supposedly from a famous nationwide chain. In front of one tiny booth, a man was demonstrating a miracle sponge mop. He kept talking nonstop, even though none of the passersby paused to listen.
    Other booths, however, had a real nautical flavor. One was selling bright yellow raingear that looked able to keep out the fiercest North Atlantic storm. At another, earnest fairgoers were peering at finely machined propellers and asking detailed questions of the two people behind the table. There was also a booth that featured a speedboat of about eighteen feet. Even strapped to a trailer, Joe thought its sleek lines and huge outboard motor made it look ready for an incredible day of cruising and waterskiing.
    â€œFrank, look at this,” Joe said, dragging him toward a table of rugged-looking electronic gear. “Would you believe a handheld GPS receiver!”
    â€œGreat,” Frank replied, gazing down at a gadget that looked something like a cross between a personal TV and a cellular phone. “Is that anything like a wide receiver? Or a tailback?”
    Joe gave him a disgusted look. “Ha, ha,” he said. “Don’t you know what that little package can do? It’ll tell you where you are, anywhere on earth. Just push a button, and you can read out your exact latitude and longitude, within a few dozenyards. It works off signals from satellites. I think we ought to have one for the van. Can you imagine how great that would be if we ever got lost?”
    Frank gave a snort. “With what that gizmo must cost, we could buy an awful lot of compasses and maps,” he pointed out. “Still, you’re right. It is pretty amazing.”
    â€œAdmiring all the cool stuff?” Dave said, from behind Frank’s shoulder.
    â€œOh, hi,” Joe said. “I’m really amazed at it all.”
    â€œI know,” Dave replied. “Some of the boats I’ve seen are crammed with enough electronics to stock a store. GPS, VHF radio, radar, depth finders, loran . . . you name it. I know one guy who has to have the latest of everything. He’s thrown out more gear than most people could afford to buy, just because it was last year’s model. I doubt if he’d know how to work half the gadgets.”
    â€œThat reminds me of something I wanted to ask you about,” Joe said. “How do people afford to race these boats? Just having one of them trucked from one race to another must cost a fortune.”
    Dave nodded. “Believe me, it does. That’s why a lot of offshore racers are people with money. Some are like Dennis Shire. It’s his company that sponsors his boat. And Barry Batten is bankrolled by a group of corporate sponsors. They get to have big decals with the name of their product on the sideof his boat. When he wins, millions of people see them on TV and in newspapers.”
    â€œJust like racing cars,” Frank observed. “You know, I used to think that they put those names of sparkplugs and motor oils on the cars because those were the brands used in the cars. Then I saw one with the name of a soft drink on it, in big letters. That blew my theory. No way did that car run on