"Ready to eat my dust, Peter?" Joe shouted over the roar of the engines, his jaw set in that permanent state of intensity.

"The only thing I’m eating today is victory, Joe! And maybe a churro if the guy comes back around," Peter shot back.

"Dad, I don't think the engine should be held on by used chewing gum," Chris had worried, staring at the rattling hunk of metal they’d salvaged from a discarded woodchipper.