Motocross Madness by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

8 Wiped Out

* * *

Frank and Joe twisted their bikes sideways, trying not to ram into Hawk’s yellow and green motorcycle. Amber flashed past them, her bird insignia a blur in front of their fenders.

Joe’s back wheel hit a muddy spot and went out from under him. He skidded toward Frank.

Frank turned the handlebars over hard, causing his blue and white cycle to spin sideways. His back wheel missed Joe’s head by inches as the younger Hardy went down into the dirt.

Joe skidded to the side of the track and piled into the hay bales stacked on the inside edge. Mud and straw sailed into the air with the impact, and Joe lay still.

“Joe!” Frank screamed as he fought to control his cycle. He swerved in a crazy S shape, trying not to go down. His bike’s tires refused to purchase on the slick mud.

The remaining racers whizzed past Frank as he fought for control. In the next second he spotted Joe, lying trackside amid the dust. A chill shot down Frank’s spine as he realized that he was headed right toward his brother.

The elder Hardy steered into the skid, but that just sent him faster in Joe’s direction. Joe looked up, dazed, and saw Frank’s bike coming at him. Frank laid the bike down, hoping he could stop in time.

At the last instant, Joe dove aside. Frank and his motorcycle brushed past him and skidded to a stop against the remaining hay bales.

Angry and covered with mud, Joe leaped to his feet.

“Are you okay?” Frank asked, picking up his bike.

But Joe had already hopped back onto his cycle. “Let’s go!” he cried. He gunned his bike’s throttle and rejoined the race.

The crowd in the grandstand roared their approval as Frank did the same.

The two of them rocketed around the next berm, but they had fallen far behind the rest of the pack.

“Keep at it!” Frank shouted into his helmet mike. “There’s still a long way to go.”

“We can catch up,” Joe agreed. “I won’t let Hawk beat us after what she did!”

They pressed forward as fast as they dared. Over the next few laps they made up much of the ground they’d lost. One by one, the brothers passed the other racers. But no matter how hard they tried, neither Hardy could catch up to Amber Hawk.

She crossed the finish line a good ten seconds ahead of Frank, who barely edged out Joe for second place. The two of them skidded their bikes to a stop at the edge of Pitstop Row.

Hawk wasn’t waiting around to congratulate them. She waved perfunctorily to the crowd, then quickly headed back to her private garage bay.

Joe grumbled, “We could have finished first if it wasn’t for her!”

“We’re lucky to have finished at all,” Frank replied. “These heats are tough, and placing in the top four is pretty good. We’ve made it through to the next round, and that’s what really matters. How do you feel?”

Joe examined his mud-covered armor and battered bike. “I feel okay,” he said.

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