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Woody Hartford, seated upon a four-legged stool of uncertain design, examined the pieces of a carburetor that lay on a bench before him, and contemplated a problem of the nicest delicacy. The problem had nothing to do with the carburetor. Woody at seventeen could put that back together without even thinking of what he was doing. He'd cleaned and adjusted a score of them since he first started working at McNess Union Service Station, Hermosa Beach, California, two years ago. The problem concerned the matter of whether to spend ten dollars on Cindy Lou or on Mary Jane. It was not one that could be lightly decided. There were, Woody was dimly aware, certain ethical factors involved. Cindy Lou needed the money spent on her in the worst way. On the other hand, if Mary Jane ever found out about it, she would, in a ladylike manner, raise a great deal of trouble. Again, if, to avoid strained relations with Mary Jane, Woody spent the money on her, it would be a long time before he would have a ten spot to spend on Cindy Lou. "A guy with a hot rod and thirty bucks a week," Woody said to the float chamber of the carburetor, "has no right having a girl friend, too. On the other hand," he added, "a guy with a hot rod is going to wind up with a girl friend whether he wants one or not. There's no arguing about that." He sighed, reached for one of a number of remarkably dirty rags on the workbench, and thrust it into the float chamber of the carburetor. He'd have used a clean rag if one was available. Clean rags were delivered every Monday to the McNess Union Service Station, but Mondays were Woody's days off. When he arrived for work on Tuesday the rags were all uniformly dirty. This was one of the minor oddities about the service station that Woody had long ago ceased to trouble himself over. Cindy Lou was Woody's hot rod. Or to be more precise, she was Woody's 1940 Ford coupé, which he was converting into a hot rod with the hope one day of competing in drag races. He'd already milled her head, worked over the chassis, changed the gear ratio, and moved the engine so that it was no longer in front of the driver's seat. Instead it was alongside the driver, and separated from the driver by a makeshift firewall. All that was needed now was to buy a four-carburetor manifold and Woody figured that Cindy Lou would hit a hundred miles an hour in a quarter mile from a standing start. A hundred miles an hour wasn't championship speed or anything like it. Some of the boys were getting a hundred and thirty out of their mills. But it would be good for Cindy Lou, and with more expansive engine modifications, it could be improved even further.