documents as ‘ Mr T . H . E . King .’
The lads kept a low profile in pitlane , having arrived in a nondescript rented truck ( although the owner hadn ’ t exactly been informed of the fact by Arasole who fetched it ) and kept the roller door of their garage down .
A FEW DROPS OF NITRO Elvis paced up and down nervously as the lads tipped the last few drops of nitro into the tank of the unwieldy single cylinder bike they had built .
Able only to put away just the three burgers for lunch , it was clear the King ’ s stomach was churning over in anticipation of his imminent , stunning , return .
“ Godamn sonofabitch !” Elvis growled .
“ What ’ s up Elvis ... what ’ s wrong ?” Gandar inquired .
“ Uh nothing man , I just like saying that y ’ now ?”
High up in the main grandstand , surrounded by a slithering , sycophantic brood of greasy redeyed brutes , Sid Sorceron gritted his pitted , yellowed teeth and snarled .
“ They ’ ll be here somewhere ... they ’ ll be here with my rings ... they ’ ll be here to take MY race !”
The head henchman among the dark riders leaned forward , flicked the blade of his knife out , and hissed that he would be delighted to personally remove the private parts from the thieving goody goodys when they were rounded up .
“ You have my word ,” Sorceron sneered .
There was scattered laughte and cries of ‘ excuse me ?’ when the lads rolled their bike out .
“ It looks like a takeaway stand ,” someone chuckled .
“ The only thing we will take away is the winner ’ s trophy ” Gandar snapped in reply .
When Elvis appeared , adorned in a spectacular star-studded aqua coloured jumpsuit and limbering up as if about to hit a Vegas stage there was great mirth .
“ It ’ s batman on acid ,” some wag ventured before Crozman had the tip of his tongue off with one deft arcing flick of his chain . Read on there ’ s more Pg 30 .....
Sid Sorceron , with a gutteral growl , reached for Baz ’ s left sock
64 KIWI RIDER