Starsky was singing away as he drove the Torino over to collect Hutch and start another working day.

It was hot. Swelteringly, stultifying, turn-your-jeans-into-a–personal-sauna kind of hot. He had the windows right down and the traffic fumes started to make his eyes sting. His throat was itchy and he stopped singing. He spotted a ‘phone booth and pulled over. After a brief conversation he hopped back in the car and continued to Venice.

Hutch was still trying to decide what to wear. Everything he picked seemed to weigh a ton and the thought of having to wear two layers to hide his gun made him want to head back to the shower. He knew Starsky was capable of turning up in his flying jacket…but Starsky had lived in this climate longer than he had.

He was still staring at his closet when Starsky bounced in. He was wearing his looser jeans (not that they weren’t revealing) and a white T-shirt; he had his denim shirt over that to hide the holster.
“Come on Blondie; we’re gonna be late!”
Hutch grabbed the first shirt that came to hand and hoped the fabric would be thick enough not to reveal the bulge of his Magnum.
“You got your car keys?”
Hutch looked at his partner. “Why?”
“ ’cos we are taking your heap today – mine has an appointment with the doctor!”
Hutch fished his keys from his jacket and followed Starsky down the stairs.
“Your car looks OK to me.”
“It is, but Merle is going to give it a little tweak.”
They drove to Merle’s yard and Starsky had a brief discussion with the black wizard. Hutch saw his partner whistle and then grin. He also saw him handing over what looked like a roll of bills.
“You paid in advance?”
“Yeah; why not…hey I can trust Merle.”

Hutch drove on and Starsky started checking out the contents of the glove compartment. Content that all the equipment was there he sat back and looked at the handle on the inside of the door with suspicion. He drew in his breath and risked winding down the window. The handle didn’t come off in his hand…the window slammed straight down and disappeared into the door casing. Starsky shook his head and sighed.
In the offices the cops were sitting trying to move as little as possible. The department had been promised air-conditioning for the past two years but it still hadn’t happened. The rumor was that at least one person down in the holding cells had asked his lawyer to look up and see if “cruel and unusual punishment” ran to being held in an airless room in temperatures of over ninety degrees with a group of people who may not have washed in a week. Starsky served two goblets of water from the cooler and handed one to Hutch. They sat flicking water in each others faces until Dobey called them into his office.

‘The fatter you are the more you sweat’; that’s what Hutch had always learned anyhow.

Dobey looked like he was melting. His face was covered in sweat and every time he wiped it, it just got wet straight away again. He had a fan on his desk but it wasn’t doing much good.
“Sit down you two and listen.”
They looked at each other and did as they were asked.
“I need you two to work on a very confidential case.”
Starsky looked at Hutch. “Sounds exciting!”

Dobey continued. “As you know it’s Rosie’s birthday tomorrow.”
How could they forget? They had been shopping and wrapping gifts for about a week now – their favorite little girl was going to be spoiled by her two honorary uncles.
“We’re giving her a party and all her class from school will be there. That’s twenty five seven-year-olds!” He looked slightly pale as he spoke and the partners had the feeling that Rosie’s dad would be happy to a have an excuse not to be at the party.

“Wow,” Starsky grinned, “that’s a lot of Jell-O and cake!”
“It is and that’s where you two come in.”

Hutch leaned forward and made a gesture that seemed as if he was going to ask the Captain for top secret information. “Have you lost the Jell-O or the cake, Captain?”
Starsky nearly fell off his chair laughing; but Dobey’s expression stopped him.

“I need someone to transport the Jell-O and the ice-cream to our house tomorrow – Edith’s car is in the shop and I’m on duty until after the store closes.”

“And you want us to transport the stuff, right Captain?”
“Yes Starsky. I figured that in the Torino with the lights and the siren going you can get there in time for the stuff not to melt.”

Hutch raised a finger. “There’s a problem; we have my car for the next couple of days.”
Dobey looked sick.
Starsky arranged his face in what he hoped looked like a penitent smile. “You see Cap’n the Torino needed a little tweak and…”
“Think of something; that’s all I ask of you two; think of something”
They left him staring at the fan.

Starsky touched Hutch on the stomach as they left the room. “Come on, I guess we’d better check the route and work out how quickly we can do it in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”
“In what?”
“Your car – I just thought up the name for it. Hey Hutch didn’t you ever see that movie?”
Hutch rolled his eyes. “I suppose that is your answer to the Striped Tomato.”
Starsky gave him one of his winning “who me?” grins.

From the store to the Dobey’s place it was a four mile trip with more controlled junctions than Hutch cared to count – Starsky counted them.
“Let’s try it another way.” Starsky said. He guided Hutch through back-alleys and side streets – but it didn’t save any time.
“Isn’t there a bit of freeway we can use?” Hutch asked desperately. Starsky gave him a pitying look. “Sure, we could make a four mile detour, take Ventura to the next junction take a few more blocks and use the Santa Monica for about half a mile and then....but we’d probably get stuck in a traffic jam – you know how slow those things move at this time of year.”

“What are we going to do? Hey why don’t we take a black and white?”
This time Starsky gave him a withering look. “I know they can do OK in a chase; but do you actually remember driving one?”
Hutch nodded miserably. He complained about the Torino’s handling but compared with the standard issue Ford that the city used as patrol cars it went like a bird and cornered like a speed-skating champion.

Starsky snapped his fingers. “Uncle Al!”
Of course, his uncle ran a used car lot. They made their way over to the area that Starsky had finished growing up in.

Al had nothing that would help the situation. He’d just cleared his stock to a cheap car-hire company that was making it’s gimmick of the fact that the cars it loaned were older and therefore less valuable – and therefore cheaper to rent. All he had left was a hearse that some hippies had painted bright yellow. Starsky took one look under the hood and walked away in disgust. “Only a hippy would but a Beetle engine in a Chevy hearse!”

They made for the Pits – cool beer might help them get this straight in their heads.