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.
It was always standing there watching how fast the race cars go, how great they can corner at speed, and how everyone praises and congratulates them when they win. He was sorry that he would never get to experience that. So he stood in his seat, watching the racers race by, and he was sad. But his opinion was about to change this year.
The scheduled race took place on Saturday morning. All the people sat in their seats, waiting impatiently for everything to begin. There were seven cars at the starting line and thick smoke was coming out of their exhausts. All the cars were watching to see when the starting flag would move so they could go.
And then it came. The starting pistol went off, the flag waved in the air and it was on. The cars took off at lightning speed. They were going so fast that people saw only shadows instead. The cars made a few corners without a problem, but then came the hardest one. A sharp left-hand turn where every car has to pay attention to every detail of the track. If you leaned a little more, you could get caught in a skid.
Five cars made it, but the sixth car started to spin. It was going down both sides of the track and it was completely out of control. It also hit the seventh car in its uncontrolled drive. Both cars flipped onto their roofs and caught fire.
The spectators panicked and the megaphone blared: “Fire truck, get on the track! Fire truck, get on the track! Come on!” When the fire truck heard that, it immediately took off. As soon as it got to the car fire, it started putting it out. The water splashed in all directions and the flames slowly became smaller. In a few moments the fire was extinguished and the cars, though damaged, were nevertheless saved. Everyone was glad that no spectators or racers were hurt, and all thanks to the fire truck. The megaphone this time said, “Hail to the fire truck!”
On that day, instead of medals, quite different awards were given out. The fire truck received a diploma for courage, bravery and reliability. Everyone was proud of it. For the first time, the fire truck felt even better than if it had been a race car. It realized that it was important too. And even though it couldn’t go as fast as a race car, it could do other important things.
