The Last-Lap Switcheroo!

BING-BONG! BING-BONG!

The Command Screen lit up the whole wall of the Garage.

Big Stomp didn’t even look at it. He was the biggest truck in the Mash Motors Crew, red from bumper to tailgate, with orange flames racing along his sides. And he was ready.

“LET’S CRUSH IT!” he shouted.

Every tool on every rack rattled on its hook.

Torque rolled out of her bay, all builder orange and black-and-yellow hazard stripes, with her crane arm folded on her back. “Big Stomp,” she said. “It hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Big Stomp. “Whatever it is, we’re crushing it.”

Black-and-white checkered letters rolled across the screen. RACING NIGHT. And under that, smaller: The Racing Night Cup. Tonight at the Rumble Bowl.

“Racing Night?”

A blue blur shot out of the end bay and skidded to a stop. It was Nitro, the fastest truck in Rumble City, all lightning bolts and spoiler.

“Racing is my thing,” he said. “Racing is my whole entire thing! Fast and fast and round and round and nobody can catch me and—”

“Rules first,” said Torque.

She tapped the screen with her crane arm. A list popped up.

“Rule one. No powers in the race. The Racing Night Cup is just engines, tires and brains.”

Nitro froze. “No powers? Not even... NITRO MODE—”

“No powers.”

“...disengaged,” said Nitro, very quietly.

“Rule two,” said Torque. “Blocking is allowed.”

“What’s blocking?” asked Bounce. He was the smallest truck in the Garage, yellow with green checks, and he sat on four huge springs that never stopped bouncing.

“Driving in front of another truck, so he can’t get past you.”

“Rude,” said Nitro.

“Rude,” said Torque. “But allowed. Rule three. Bumping is never allowed. You never touch another racer. Not ever.”

Everybody dipped their hoods. That was the most important rule of all.

“Rule four. Drafting is allowed.”

“What’s drafting?” asked Bounce.

“Tucking in close behind another truck.”

Bounce’s springs went boing. “Why would you want to be BEHIND?”

Torque’s headlights twinkled. “You’d be surprised. Rule five. No driving through walls.”

CLANK went the armor on the purple truck by the door. Smash was the widest truck in Rumble City, and she did not like the sound of rule five.

“Not even a little wall?” she asked.

“Not even a little wall.”

Smash thought about that. “Fine. If there’s nothing to hit, I’ll hit top speed.”

“I’ll race too,” said Mudslide. He was green, round as a boulder, and in no hurry at all. “Round and round in circles, right? Sounds relaxing, dude.”

“I’ll be your spotter,” said Torque. “I’ll watch the whole track from the Pit Area and talk to you on the radio.”

“Who else is racing?” asked Big Stomp.

Torque touched the screen again. The list of racers rolled up. Tank. Anvil. And at the very top, in shiny black letters: DIESEL.

The Garage went quiet.

Diesel was the champion of the Rumble Bowl. He had the biggest engine in the city and the shiniest paint anybody had ever seen.

“Diesel has never lost a race,” said Torque. “Not one. Nobody has ever passed him on a last lap.”

“We’ve beaten him before,” said Smash.

“At stunts,” said Torque. “At smashing. Never at racing.”

“Maybe he’ll have a bad night!” said Bounce.

“I hope not,” said Big Stomp.

Everybody turned to look at him.

“I don’t want to beat Diesel on a bad night,” said Big Stomp. “I want to beat the best Diesel there is.”

With a hiss, the Launch Ramp rose from the floor and tipped toward the big doors and the warm night outside. Big Stomp rolled onto it first. He almost always went first.

He was about to find out just how good the best Diesel was.