Rory the Race Car zoomed around the track, his engine purring like a happy kitten. He loved the feel of the wind whooshing past, the cheers of the crowd, and most of all, the shiny golden trophy he always won.
One sunny day, a new car named Vicky arrived at the racetrack. Vicky was a bright pink convertible with a playful smile. She politely asked Rory if she could join him on the track. "No way!" Rory scoffed. "This is my track, and winning is my thing!"
Vicky looked sad, but she found a quiet corner of the track and started practicing on her own. She zipped and zoomed, her pink paint glittering in the sun. Rory ignored her and continued his solo laps, imagining the grand trophy he'd win.
The day of the big race arrived. Rory, as always, took an early lead. He was so focused on winning that he didn't notice Vicky slowly catching up. Her little convertible zipped around the track with surprising speed and skill.
Suddenly, Rory's engine sputtered. He'd forgotten to refuel! He pulled over to the side, defeated. Vicky zoomed past, but then, she slowed down and stopped beside him. "Need some help?" she asked kindly.
Rory felt embarrassed. He mumbled, "I… I forgot to get gas."
Vicky smiled. She had a small fuel canister in her trunk. "Here," she said, sharing her fuel. "We can both finish the race!"
Rory was amazed. Vicky was willing to help him even after he'd been so mean. With a grateful heart, Rory accepted the fuel. Together, they rejoined the race.
Rory realized that racing with a friend was much more fun than racing alone. They cheered each other on, and when Vicky crossed the finish line first, Rory was genuinely happy for her. He had discovered something more valuable than a trophy: the joy of friendship and teamwork.
That night, Rory and Vicky parked side-by-side in the garage. "You know," said Rory, "winning isn’t everything. Sharing the track with you was the best part of the race!" Vicky smiled. "Me too!" she said. From that day on, Rory and Vicky raced together, sharing the track and the joy of friendship.