Dirt Bomb by Fleur Beale Read Free Book Online

vertical again. Buzz was leaning into the car and tugging at the console round the gearstick. ‘It’s much easier to get it out if we take the gear stick out first.’ He tugged at the console around it. ‘Damn it! These things are buggers to get off.’
    Not if you’ve got brains, bro. I pulled my head out of the car and went fishing in the bag of tools.
    Buzz looked up when I came back waving the eight-inch crescent. ‘Wake up, Jake. That’s no use.’
    ‘Stand back,’ I ordered. ‘Watch and learn.’ I took an almighty swing at the plastic console and smashed the head of the spanner into it. A crack line shot across it.
    ‘He could have a brain in his head after all,’ Robbie said.
    ‘Classy,’ Buzz said. ‘And tidy.’
    I didn’t care, just kept on bashing. After a few more thumps, Robbie got stuck in with the smaller crescent. It wasn’t as good, but he did enough damage to make him happy. Buzz watched, nodding his head every time another chunk of plastic bit the dust.
    It didn’t take long to demolish the console. ‘Look at that,’ Robbie said. ‘One perfect gear stick.’
    No dramas getting it out either, then it was back under the car where we discovered exactly how heavy a gear box was. We had quite a struggle to lift the fecker.
    ‘It had better work after all this,’ Buzz grunted.
    We lugged it to the office, paid our money, and headed for Gramps and his chariot, mighty glad we didn’t have to try to carry the gear box and drive shaft on our bikes.
    Frank wasn’t around when we got back, but he’d left us a very loud note. USE THE BIG JACK TOLIFT THE CAR. PUT AXLE STANDS UNDER IT. IF I GET BACK AND FIND YOU SQUASHED YOU’RE DEAD.
    We got the picture.
    Robbie and I got the honour of taking the gear box out of the Commodore while Buzz kept a sharp eye on us. No sweat. It wasn’t too hard getting the new one back in. No dramas.
    We lowered the car. Now for the big test — had we got a good one or a lemon?
    Buzz climbed in via the window and started the motor without any flames or backfiring. The three of us held our breaths as he slipped the gear stick into first and eased down on the gas. ‘Yes!’ Buzz had a huge grin on his face while Robbie and I leapt up and down, high-fiving and yahooing. Frank drove up in time to watch Buzz do a lap of the yard.
    ‘Can’t believe it,’ Robbie said. ‘We’ve got the old girl going.’
    Frank got out of the ute. ‘Well done, you lot. Good work. We’ll put it on the trailer and take it to the paddock. Which is where, by the way?’ He looked at us, head on one side.
    ‘Um,’ said Robbie.
    ‘Er,’ I said.
    ‘We haven’t actually thought about that,’ said Buzz.
    Frank did the slight grin and headed into the shed. ‘Let me know when you’ve got it sorted.’
    ‘Hot bloody damn,’ Buzz said.
    ‘Never thought about getting a paddock,’ Robbiesaid. He looked at Buzz. ‘Could you ask some of your farmers?’
    Buzz shrugged. ‘I guess. They’ll say no, though. They won’t want a whole paddock wrecked.’ He rubbed his hands through his hair. I guess grease could be good for hair. ‘It’ll be sweet after the maize is harvested.’
    ‘When’s that?’ I asked. Soon? Like tomorrow?
    Buzz pulled his mouth down. ‘Starts in March.’
    We kicked round a few ideas. Came up with sweet nothing. Went home.

Chapter Eight
ROAR OF EXHAUST
    GRAMPS WAS COOKING again. Preparing a feast for the barbie. Sausages and steak soaking in something . Speck didn’t come and say hi — too busy with pieces of steak in her dish.
    ‘End of the world on the way, is it?’ Gramps asked.
    Very funny. I stuck my head in the fridge. Tried the pantry. Nothing. It would have to be toast.
    ‘Gear box no good?’ he asked. He sounded faintly interested, so I told him the sad story and waited for him to laugh his socks off.
    He did do a bit of a grin, but he looked like he was thinking too, so I kept my trap shut, squatted down and had a chat to Speck.
    But nothing