Far outside our village there was a race track. Every year there were car races there. The best race cars anyone had ever seen went there. Their speed was unbelievable. A lot of people came to watch them every time. Everybody watching and cheering in their seats for their favourites. Near the racetrack there were non-racing cars. There was a smaller fire truck and an ambulance parked there. But the fire truck was too unhappy.
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Every morning a van drove through our town. It was always nice and clean, washed and followed the traffic rules. It didn’t make any noise. It drove quietly and orderly. It delivered goodies around town. Early in the morning, the van would go far out of town, where nobody knew it. It’d load up on fruit and vegetables and then go back to our town. Here, it would take the food to the different stalls where people went to shop. The van was driven by one driver… But he wasn’t just any driver.
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Patrik was a small-town boy. He lived in a cozy house with his dad. They had a big garage next to their house and sign hanging above the garage that said, “The best mechanic in town.” Patrick’s daddy used to fix cars in the garage. People from all over the neighborhood would come to him with their cars because he could fix just about anything. Patrik always watched his daddy at work. He learned from him. Even when he was just a little boy, he was very handy and could fix a lot of things on his own.
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There once was a road around a small fairy-tale town. Big and small cars drove on it. Some trucks delivered goods and other smaller cars took people to work. In this fairy-tale town, people and cars were friends. They helped each other. The cars took people where they needed to go and the people took good care of the cars. They washed them, they filled them up with gas, they fixed them. In return, the cars tried to drive according to the rules. It was the most peaceful town. Until the Hothead came to town.
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