Are You Smarter Than A Flying Gator? (12 page)

Gator Mikey flew almost straight west out of Tallahassee, singing an old song from the 1960's called “The Wanderer.” The flying gator had changed some of the lyrics, though:

I'm the type of gator

Who likes to roam around,

I'm never in one place,

I roam from town to town,

I'm asking tough questions,

Don't stick around too long,

Then I take off again,

And fly to another town,

Cause I'm a wanderer,

A gator wanderer,

I roam around around around around,

Cause I'm a wanderer,

A gator wanderer,

I roam around around around around...

In the Main Conference Room on board Air Force One, the President, Governor Trust, Sarabiskota, and Chad's mom were busily doing research on the Internet.

Prez asked, “Has anyone found anything about Geronimo that might be connected to Florida?”

“Bingo!” the President exclaimed. “I've got something here. This is interesting. Geronimo was a famous Apache medicine man, not an Indian chief like I thought. It says here he was captured along with his band of warriors in 1886 at a place in New Mexico called Skeleton Canyon. Then he was sent to Florida to a fort in St. Augustine to be imprisoned. After that, some business leaders in Pensacola arranged for Geronimo to be sent there. Geronimo ended up being jailed at Fort Pickens in Pensacola.”

“That's it, Mr. President!” Jessie exclaimed. “Good job! We're going to Pensacola.”

“Yeah, way to go, Mr. President!” Doc added.

Nick looked puzzled. “Why did the business leaders in Pensacola want Geronimo at Fort
Pickens?”

“Geronimo was famous,” the President answered. “When he refused to be put on a reservation in the 1870's, he and his band raided New Mexico, Arizona, and Northern Mexico for a long time before they were caught. The newspapers had written about Geronimo's exploits over the years. The businessmen in Pensacola thought Geronimo would be a good tourist attraction.”

“They wanted to use a famous prisoner as a tourist attraction?” Kevin asked in disbelief.

Governor Trust grimaced. “Yup, it seems like my state will do just about anything to attract more tourists.”

“It must have worked,” said the President. “It says here they had over 450 people visit in one day and the people were sad to see Geronimo leave.”

“Where did he go?” Kari asked.

“It doesn't say here,” the President answered.

“Look!” Chad said excitedly. “You're going to like this, Prez. It says Geronimo rode in the Inaugural Parade of President Teddy Roosevelt!”

“Too cool!” Prez said.

Mike asked, “Why do people yell
Geronimo
when they jump out of planes and things?”

“I've got that right here,” Governor Trust replied. “It started with a six foot eight inch paratrooper from Ft. Benning, Georgia, named Private Aubrey Eberhardt. Back in 1940, they were training to do a particularly dangerous jump out of an airplane. The night before, the men watched a movie about Geronimo to help them get over their nervousness. Even though the private was known to be brave, his friends gave him a rough time about being really nervous about the jump. To help prove he wasn't nervous, Private Eberhardt told his friends he was going to yell
GERONIMO!
when he jumped out of the plane the next day.”

“Did he?” KT asked.

“Yup, he did,” Governor Trust replied. “Then he followed it with a big Indian war whoop.”

“This is fantastic stuff,” said Chad.

“Here's something interesting about Pensacola,” Mike noted. “I always thought St. Augustine was the first European settlement in the United States, but I guess that's not right. Pensacola was settled in 1559 and St. Augustine was settled six years after that in 1565. Pensacola wins for first European settlement.”

“What's the deal?” Doc wanted to know.

“Well,” Mike explained, “that first settlement in Pensacola was hit by a hurricane and it was practically wiped out. After two years, everyone had left and no one tried to resettle the area for more than 100 years.”

“But St. Augustine has been settled
continuously
since 1565,” KT noted, “so they get the credit for being first in the history books.”

Nick looked a little confused. “I think I get it.”

“Hey look!” the President exclaimed.

“It's the Blue Angels!” Kevin shouted excitedly as the six beautiful blue and yellow jet aircraft flew off the right side of Air Force One.

Everyone glanced at the President, who was trying to act like he knew nothing about this. “What?” he said. “The Blue Angels are stationed in Pensacola and they happen to be in town. Their commanding officer called a while ago, and he asked if they could escort us into Pensacola. How could I turn them down?”

The Blue Angels flew in delta formation, smoke on, leading Gator Mikey, Air Force One, and all the other aircraft into Pensacola. Gator Mikey saw smoke trailing from the Blue Angels' F/A -18 Hornets and he decided to do the same. Soon, blue and orange
smoke was coming from the flying gator's tail end.

“Wow!” said Prez. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

Once they got to Pensacola, the Blue Angels showed everyone some of their stuff as they put on a brief air show for the huge crowd gathered on the ground. Gator Mikey decided to put on a little air show himself. With orange and blue smoke trailing behind, Gator Mikey spelled
I Love Pensacola!
in the air. The crowd loved it, as did the billions watching on television around the world.

“Pensacola!”
Gator Mikey cried out as he flew above the throng assembled in the Pensacola area. “The name
Pensacola
comes from the name of the Indian tribe that once lived here. The next question is: What does that name mean? Is it A, bubbly soft drink; B, alligator people; or C, long-haired people? As always, I will repeat the question and give you ten seconds to think about the answer.”

Gator Mikey repeated the question and sang ten seconds of the song “Earth Angel.” Then he said, “The correct answer is C, long-haired people. Now, you know what to say if you got the question right. At the count of 3! 1 ... 2 ...
3!”

“I'm smarter than a flying gator!”

“Where am I flying next? I'll give you a hint:
February 22, 1959!”

Doc studied the information on her computer screen. “Hey, Nick,” she said excitedly. “I
know
you're going to like
this.
”

“Like what?” Nick asked as he quickly walked over to take a look at Doc's computer screen.

Doc pointed and said, “February 22, 1959, is a huge day for NASCAR fans like you.”

Nick studied the information for several seconds. “Oh, my gosh!” he shouted. “February 22, 1959, was the day they had the first Daytona 500 at the Daytona International Speedway! We're headed to Daytona Beach!”

Nick ran over to the nearest window on Air Force One and yelled, “Thank you, Gator Mikey! We're going to Daytona!”

The President gave Nick a high five as everyone celebrated with Nick.

“Excuse me,” said the President. “I'm going to see if we can get some pizza and beverages in here for our big celebration.”

The President went to his office and made a phone call. After that, he went to talk to the chef about making some pizza.

“Nick,” said Prez as he continued to research the first Daytona 500, “from what I'm reading here, the first race must have been pretty awesome.”

“What do you mean?” Nick asked.

“After 500 miles of racing, it came down to a photo finish. There were actually three cars in that photo, but one car had been lapped. Lee Petty's and Johnny Beauchamp's cars were the other two.”

“Who won?” Nick wanted to know.

“Johnny Beauchamp ... at first,” Prez explained. “But then they studied the photos and the film taken during the race. After three days they changed their minds. Lee Petty was declared the winner by just two feet.”

“That's incredible—but kind of a bummer for Johnny Beauchamp,” said Nick.

“How fast did the winning drivers race back then?” Kevin inquired.

“Petty averaged 135.5 miles per hour for the whole race,” Prez answered. “This is pretty interesting stuff, Nick—for a sport where they just drive around in circles endlessly.”

Nick made a face at Prez.

Prez continued. “Lee Petty got about $19,000 for winning that first Daytona 500. Last year's winner, Jeffie Gordon, got nearly two million.”

“Unreal,” said Chad.

The President walked back in the room with a mischievous smile on his face. “Nick, you have a phone call. I'll put it on the speaker phone in here for you.”

“Who is it?” Nick asked.

“A friend of yours,” the President said, about ready to burst.

“Hello?” Nick said.

“Hello, Nick! This is one of your big fans, Jeffie Gordon!”

“Really? Jeffie Gordon? I'm one of
your
biggest fans!”

“Nick, our whole NASCAR 24 team loves you guys. We're all keeping track of you and Gator Mikey and the President, Governor Trust, and your Sarabiskota friends.”

“You are?”

“You bet. Everyone's trying to figure out where Gator Mikey's going next, and we're trying to answer all of Gator Mikey's questions. It's been a blast!
Who knew history and geography could be so much fun? I can proudly say I've gotten ten of the eighteen questions correct so far.”

“That's excellent, Mr. Gordon.”

“You can call me Jeffie.”

“Thanks, Jeffie.”

“You're welcome, Nick. By the way, my pit crew and I think we know where Gator Mikey will fly after Daytona Beach.”

“Where?”

“Well, like Gator Mikey likes to do, I'll give you a hint:
Coacoochee.”

“Coacoochee? How do you spell that?”

“C-o-a-c-o-o-c-h-e-e. Anyway, Nick, I know you're about ready to have a little pizza party on board Air Force One. Before I go, my 24 team and I would like to invite you and your friends to be part of our honorary pit crew at the next Daytona 500 if you'd like. Maybe Sarabiskota can even take a look under the hood of my car and make it go as fast as Gator Mikey.”

“Really? The Daytona 500?”

“Really, Nick. How's that sound?”

“Fabulous! Thanks so much, Mr. Gordon—Uh, Jeffie!”

“You're welcome, Nick. Say hi to everyone else for me. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye!”

Gator Mikey approached Daytona Beach where tens of thousands of cheering people were waiting. The flying gator swooped down to a low altitude and flew over the world's most famous beach, then he approached Daytona International Speedway.