Chapter 451 - 292: How Zog Made the Prodigal Son Return (3)

Chapter 451: Chapter 292: How Zog Made the Prodigal Son Return (3)

But for him, as long as he could dominate everyone on the track today, the money would be well spent.

With a swagger in his step, Craig arrived at the 4WD racetrack.

He opened his carrying case, which held the parts he had painstakingly collected.

Craig had deliberately taken the car completely apart, just so the other players could get a good look.

"Whoa, it’s a Purple Gold Frame! A real Purple Gold Frame! I thought that was just a legend!"

"Oh my god, look at the tires. They’re Red Demon Slime Tires."

"And the motor—it’s the most powerful one, the Flying Lightning No. 3 Motor!"

...

It hadn’t been a waste to take the car apart; these veteran players really knew their stuff.

Amid a chorus of gasps, Craig snapped the shell of his Hurricane Sonic into place. Per the rules, cars weren’t allowed on the track without a shell. The assembly was complete.

"Who’ll race me!"

He shouted proudly, like a confident little lion cub.

No one present answered the challenge. They had no idea how powerful a 4WD car that reeked of money would be.

In this scene, the rules were that the loser had to give up their car.

"How boring. What’s the fastest lap time on this track right now?"

Seeing that no one would take up his challenge, Craig decided to break the current lap record for this track.

Just then, a voice called out from the crowd.

"I’ll race you."

It was an adult’s voice.

Craig looked at his opponent. He looked familiar.

The other players had already called out the man’s name.

"Mr. Benz."

Benz had been spending most of his time at the specialty shop recently, as it was the best place to get immediate customer feedback for improving the next generation of models.

When he was free, he would also come and race 4WD cars for fun.

You’re never too old to play with toys.

Craig looked at the car in Benz’s hands. It was completely unremarkable. Although he didn’t know what the specific parts were, he was certain they weren’t as expensive as his.

"You’re on," he accepted confidently.

The race, however, did not go at all as Craig had imagined: a simple victory for his money-fueled Hurricane Sonic.

Quite the opposite—Mr. Benz’s car left him in the dust by several seconds.

"Why?"

Craig asked, bewildered.

Mr. Benz didn’t answer directly. Instead, he picked up Craig’s 4WD car and examined it closely.

"It’s too light. Not enough friction."

"What’s friction?" Craig’s knowledge base didn’t include the concept of friction.

"Ha. It’s the force that opposes the relative motion between surfaces in contact."

To Craig, that explanation was as good as none at all. He just stared blankly.

"Simply put, it’s the force created by the friction between the tires and the ground."

"Shouldn’t it be the smaller, the better, then?" Craig retorted. ’After all, it’s a force that gets in the way.’

"No, quite the opposite. A car relies on friction to move forward. That friction pushes it forward. That’s why being too light is a problem. Your motor is already maxed out, but it can’t generate enough acceleration."

"Why does the friction push it forward?"

Craig felt like his head was about to explode.

"Ah, that’s a whole lesson in itself."

Partly out of boredom, Benz began to give Craig a lesson on friction from the very beginning. He was surprised to find that the kid was actually quite sharp.

So he went on to explain air resistance, the purpose of the rear spoiler, the influence of the car’s body shape, and more.

Most of the other onlookers who had gathered listened for a bit before their heads started to spin, and they tuned out. Craig, however, only grew more and more excited the more he heard.

He seemed to have discovered a joy that went beyond simply racing 4WD cars: the joy of figuring out how to make them faster.

For years, he’d been used to solving everything with money; life was like a game with cheat codes enabled. Things were thrilling for a moment and then immediately became boring.

And for things money couldn’t solve, like technical skill, he simply had no talent.

But today, it seemed Craig had found his purpose.

Under Benz’s guidance, the newly adjusted Hurricane Sonic successfully broke the lap record.

But only a small part of Craig’s excitement came from breaking the record. The greater part came from the thrill of grasping knowledge and using it to solve a problem.

"Where can I go to keep learning about this?" Craig asked excitedly.

"Find a good teacher, get into a good school, then a good university. After that, a research institute, or one of the institutes in Deepwater City."

"I understand." Craig’s expression was serious. He wasn’t joking.

"Oh," Benz said, a little surprised to have met a kid genuinely interested in science. "What’s your family name?"

"Craig."

"Craig? A fitting name for a researcher, then."