The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1935-06-28
Women Have No Viscosity By William F. stu,r,

1 .oW gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.
seen plenty of races. They're
never won till they're over"
I know, but"
wei, anyhow, let's help him all we
can" Bud finished.
Out on the track Bill Brandt's
thoughts kept turning to a girl some
WHERE IN The stands as he flew past
H.. She was pulling for him. ;. Made
tne grind OF the ace almost pay.
reg, sitting on his right, was think
!ng: Wish we'd started our sprint earl
Ter, so We could be picking off some of
Iiose SlOO lap prizes-a hundred iron
men dropping into your lap every min
uate and a half"
his driver was gradually closing the
gap his a and Palmer,S No.
=. Bits pit flashed him the black
BOARD signal: Get No. g." He smiled
aC Red Thirty miles more to go!
No. 9 was in plain view now, two
nor yards ahead. No. 9's mechanic
looking back at the Brandt Special
ana drumming a signal on his drivers
right arm. Bill was content to ride
along.
He wanted to see whether No. 9 would
Try to draw away from him. But
Palmer was an old hand at racing, also.
He, too, let matters ride as they were.
That's all the Brandt Special has
NO. y can make him keep his distance"
anne heard a spectator say in the
COX next hers. She wanted to scream
a. MN, to tell him it wasn't true, but
she did not. Instead she looked at her
brother. His lips were set in a grim
Line. He was driving the car with
Brandt. Before long she, too, was
helping. Without knowing it, she tens
ed her arms when he tore into the
turns. That would be the way a driver
would do it, with a steady pull on the
LETT hand, to get the car around.
Red pointed to the scoreboard. 1t in
alcated 100 laps-475 miles. Only ten
could feel a slight s%tiffening of his
drivers throttle leg.
Hes getting Palmer, Bud" Anne
said in a whisper. "He can go faster"
: Sure, he can," came the answer.
Bill was averaging 100 miles an hour
cutting a second off his best previous
lap time. That was what made Bill
Brandt in the eyes of the public, though
that was not why he drove as he did.
He was a natural winning driver, and
that was the way he did it.
With seven laps to go, Bill was
abreast of Palmer, directly in front of
Anne and Bud, though he did not know
where they were. Bill knew his car.
He also knew his tires were beginning
to feel the effects of the hard going.
Three laps!
Two laps!
Palmer was content to have a few
feet advantage over his rival. He knew
the struggle would come in the home
cfrnf0h To SoSr1% ~,,% nv --4~I
before that, but SO could the driver of
the Brandt Special.
The stands were wild. Shouting!
ing for Brandt! yelling for Palmer!
Anne Peterson's heart had ceased
beating, SO far as she knew. The time
seemed in~terminable.
One lap to go!
Anything still could happen before
the race ended. Red rugged the driver,
pointed to the right rear tire, and shook
on the back stretch. :. Through the
turn-the last n Of the
race! Bill knew that if he attempted
to overhaul Palmer in that turn and
took the slightest skid in doing so, his
already overtaxed right rear tire might
go. And if it did go-well, his car prob
ably would finish over the wall, instead
of at the finish wire.
Now the Brandt Special was even
with the Palmer car They were still in
the turn. Bill was slowly forging ahead.
Riding high on the bank, he came
down on to the level straightaway in a
burst of speed three car lengths ahead
of his opponent.
Red pointed to the worn real tire
again. Red nodded again. He had no
He was as o a though he
were sitting in his garage. In seven or
eight seconds he would be at the fin
That's what a worn tire could do. He
watched out of the corner of his y
for Palmer to come up alongside him.
Came a pinpoint blur. Gradually it
grew larger. Palmer was coming up!
Bill ground his a~ccelerator with his
foot. The spot grew stationary q little
behind him. He was still leading! The
spot stayed where it was.
The flash of a checkered flag! He
had won!
The blood rushed to Bills head. No
matter how many races he won, there
was always that dizzy feeling in the
instant. He eased off on the throttle,
but continued on to make two extra
to guard against a mistake in
scoring. The crowds roared and stamp
ed feet as he went by. Bill smiled, but
the spectators could not see him.
He passed the finish wire again. 49,.
More cheering :. Another lap . A stop
at the pits . His pit crew crowded
Pile nueeeoeAsRe m