He spoke to Grandfather Gus that very evening, seated around the small wood stove that the old man had in his shack. At night this was what kept the shack warm, although sometimes, when it was very cold outside, small patches of ice would form on the inside of the windows. This did not worry Grandfather Gus too much, as he said that it was not good for you to be too hot.

Max told him about how he had discovered the car.

“So you found an old Champion,” said Grandfather Gus with a smile. “That’s quite a thing to discover, Max – there aren’t many of those around these days.”

“It was very well kept inside,” said Max. “The wood panels were polished and all the steel gleamed like new.”

Grandfather Gus nodded. “They were great cars, those Champions,” he said. “Very pretty machines. Do you know they could go at one hundred miles an hour, sometimes more?”

“That’s very fast,” said Max.

“And they were as comfortable as a living-room sofa,” went on Grandfather Gus. “Even on bumpy roads, your skeleton never complained. It was like riding on air, people said. That was the suspension I designed – it was very special.” He paused, as if about to reveal a secret. “And you know something, Max? That suspension was really special – it was the only suspension in the world, as far as I know, that used marshmallow. Would you believe that?”

Max looked astonished. He knew that marshmallow was spongy, sweet stuff that quickly melted in your mouth, but he had never heard of it being used to make suspension for cars.

Grandfather Gus looked dreamy. “Ah,” he said, “I remember some of the drives I had in one of the first Champions I made. She was a lovely car, she was. I gave her a name, Arabella, and I used her for years. I was making other Champions for people in those days, but I always kept that one as my personal car.”

“You must have loved her,” said Max.

“Yes,” said Grandfather Gus. “I did. And I had some amazing adventures in her. Did I ever tell you about those?”

Max shook his head. “No, but I’d love to hear them.”

Grandfather Gus put another log in the stove and patted the seat beside him. “In that case, come and sit down here beside me, and I’ll get out my photograph album and show you pictures of some of the things Arabella and I got up to in those days.”

Seated next to his grandfather, Max looked at the dusty album with its collection of old photographs. On the first page there was a large picture of what Max now recognised as a Champion. It was a large green car with the number five painted on its side, and Grandfather Gus, looking much younger, was standing proudly beside it.

“There we are just before setting off for India,” said Grandfather Gus. “Did I ever tell you we went on a great car rally all the way to India?’

Max was astonished. “That must have taken ages,” he said.

“Yes it did,” said Grandfather Gus. “There were fifty cars involved, you know, and we were all trying to get to India as quickly as possible. But it took two months, as I recall. And we were driving every day – mile after mile every day. I had somebody to read the maps for me, of course.”

He turned the page to show Max the next photograph. “Here we are in France,” he said. “Just before we went over the Alps. We were in first place at that stage – way ahead of everyone else.”

He turned another page. Now he was in Turkey, parked outside a cafe in Istanbul, holding a large glass of fizzy drink and smiling at the camera.

“That drink was sherbet,” said Grandfather Gus. “It was sweet and delicious, and it tickled the inside of your nose as you drank it.”

In the next photograph they were on a narrow mountain road. It made Max’s stomach turn just to look at the drop at the edge of the road – it went down and down, until it reached a river at the bottom of a gorge. The river was so far down below that it was no more than a thin silver ribbon, but Max knew that if the car fell off the side of the road it would not take long for it to plummet all the way to the bottom.

“That was pretty dangerous,” said Grandfather Gus, pointing to the drop. “One little mistake and, oh dear, we wouldn’t have stood much of a chance.”

Max did not like to think of it. “Well, you made it,” he said. “And that’s what counts.”

“We were still in first place at that point,” said Grandfather Gus. “But that was to change once we reached India.” He looked dejected. “I still feel sad about what happened.”

Max waited for him to explain.

“Here we are,” he said, turning the page to reveal the next photograph. “Broken down.”

It was a sad picture. A cloud of steam was coming from Arabella’s engine, while Grandfather Gus and his map reader stood by helplessly.

“It just suddenly exploded,” said Grandfather Gus. “We were in the middle of India then, and only a few hundred miles from the finishing line.”

“You must have been so disappointed,” said Max. “Just when everything was going so well, that happened.”

Grandfather Gus shook his head sadly. “Yes,” he said. “And do you know something, Max? I think it was sabotage.”

Max frowned. He had heard the word before, but was not quite sure what it meant. But seeing his expression, Grandfather Gus went on to say, “I think that one of the other competitors put something in our fuel. There were signs that the fuel inlet had been tampered with, and that would explain why the engine exploded.”

Max was outraged. “Did you know who it was?” he asked. “Did you report them?”

Grandfather Gus sighed. “I had a good idea who it was,” he said. “But I didn’t have any proof.”

Max waited for him to say who it was, and when the answer came he was not altogether surprised.

“There’s a man called Adolphus Grabber,” said Grandfather Gus. “He was one of the other entrants. He was racing one of his own cars – a car called the Grabber Guzzler, because it used so much fuel. It was really a pretty horrible car, actually, but he was very proud of it and he wanted to win at all costs. I think he was the person who sabotaged my beautiful Arabella.”

“So what happened next?” asked Max.

“Well,” said Grandfather Gus, “there was not much I could do. We were in the middle of nowhere with a car that was not going anywhere. The nearest garage was miles away and poor old Arabella simply wouldn’t budge. And not only that – we had very little water with us, and next to no food.”

He smiled at Max.

“But just when things were looking very grim, something turned up – as it often does.”

“A towing truck?” asked Max.

Grandfather Gus laughed. “No, not that, but something every bit as useful. Do you think you can guess?”

Max tried, but could not think of anything.

“An elephant,” said Grandfather Gus at last. “It was one of those working elephants that they have in India – you know, the ones who help carry great trees in the forest, once they’ve cut them down.”

“He came along all by himself?” asked Max.

“No,” said Grandfather Gus. “He had his keeper with him. They call those people mahouts. And this one was riding along on top of the elephant, when he came round the corner and saw us by the side of the road.

“He was a very kind man,” continued Grandfather Gus. “When he saw that Arabella was broken down, he offered to tow us with his elephant. He had a thick rope with him and it did not take him long to tie one end to Arabella and the other to his elephant. Then the elephant started to walk, while I sat at the wheel of the car to steer. It was no effort for such a strong creature – he hardly felt the load at all.”

“You were very lucky,” said Max.

“I know that,” said Grandfather Gus. “And it was a great deal of fun as well. He towed us for two days, all the way to the finishing line in Delhi. And although we came last in the rally, there was still a great crowd waiting to cheer us over the line. When they saw us arriving under elephant power, they cheered and cheered. They brought garlands of flowers for all of us – and for the elephant too – and they let off fireworks to mark our arrival. It was spectacular.”

Max could imagine the scene, but there was something he wanted to know. “Who won in the end?” he asked. “It wasn’t …”

He did not finish his question. “I’m afraid it was,” answered Grandfather Gus. “Adolphus Grabber won, in his Grabber Guzzler.”

Max looked down at the floor. He felt miserable, even just hearing about this – how much worse must poor Grandfather Gus have felt?

“But, don’t worry,” said his grandfather. “It doesn’t matter too much who wins a race – what really matters is that you enjoy it, and that you play fair. If everybody plays fair, then everybody has a good time.”

Max looked at the picture of the car. “What happened to Arabella?” he asked. “Did she stay in India?”

“Yes,” said Grandfather Gus. “I couldn’t fix her there, and so I had to leave her. It broke my heart, but there was not much else I could do. I have no idea what happened to her, but I suspect that she was broken up for spare parts.”

Max snuggled up to his grandfather. He was the wisest, nicest grandfather anybody could possibly wish for, Max thought, and yet he had been so unfairly treated by Mr Grabber. Sometimes the world seemed so unfair: good people were tricked or bullied by bad people, and the bad people seemed to get away with it. If only he could do something about it, he said to himself. But then he thought: What can I possibly do? And the answer, it seemed to him, was: Not much.