Stock Cars in Bredasdorp

A lot of men in Gansbaai spent their spare time on the couch watching sport and downloaded series. Others passed their spare time in the pubs, watching sport and talking mindless sh#t to while away the empty hours. Then there were those who were forever going off in all weather hoping to catch one of the last few fish left in the ocean. Derek did a bit of all of this, but his main obsession was driving his stock car.

“Have you ever been to stock cars, Sedrick?”

“I once went to stock cars at Tygerberg Raceway when I was a kid. It was a bit like going to watch wrestling, and I remember laughing a lot. It must be fun crashing into other cars and forcing them off the track.”

“There’s more to it than that, you know. You will need to come and check it out if you guys are going to help me.”

“I’ve been to Bredasdorp a good few times,” said Sedrick “but I never saw any sign of a race track. Where is it?”

“You know where the grain silos are? It’s behind them, near the lime factory. Actually, it’s built in an old lime quarry, and the surface of the track is lime. I joined the Bredasdorp Motor Club six years ago, and I race every season. But in six years I have never won a single race. Not one. Even the f#cking woman drivers beat me!”

Sedrick took note of the emotional distress that was causing the man’s face to twitch, his lips to tremble, his eyes to become moist, and his voice to quiver and falter. This guy was on the point of emitting an almighty sob. Sedrick’s professional empathy did not extend to mopping up snot en trane. It was time for some tough love.

“Listen here, Derek: pull yourself towards yourself and stop being a self-pitying wanker, pulling yourself in the wrong direction, if you know what I mean. For Christ’s sake, there’s always a solution if you are prepared to use your grey matter, and not to try to get your rectum to do the work of your cerebral cortex. Monty and I have been giving some serious thought to your predicament, and we are in the process of devising a strategy that will enable you to win the race of your choice. Because you lack the nerve, the judgement and the skill to win a race on your own merit, we will have to intervene and somehow handicap the other drivers. Monty favours the use of a sniper rifle to take out tyres. This idea has major drawbacks, though. For one thing, we don’t have a sniper rifle, and to buy one, even if it’s second hand, would cost in the region of 30 thousand. And what if Monty should miss and hit a driver, or a spectator? No, I don’t think that is a viable option.”

“So what do you suggest?” Derek had decided not to open the floodgates, and had perked up and was showing an interest. “You must have something in mind.”

(This is an extract from Strandveld Private Investigators.)