By Frank Cottrell Boyce
Everyone’s favourite flying motor vehicle shifts into one other measurement because the intrepid Tooting kinfolk zooms backward and forward via time.
When the Tootings go back to Zobrowski Terrace on the finish of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Flies back, they locate that "home" is calling much like Jurassic Park. yet this can be no subject matter park — a really genuine and extremely hungry T. rex is charging them! due to Dad’s inadvertent yanking of Chitty’s "Chronojuster" lever, the lively automobile has ushered them again to prehistoric instances, the place the relations (and particularly child Harry) make a slender get away. yet Chitty has a brain of her personal, and the Tootings gets an unforeseen travel of interesting occasions and locations from Prohibition-era big apple (where Chitty desires to compete within the well-known Prix d’Esmerelda’s Birthday Cake race) to the misplaced urban of El Dorado and again back, with misadventures and shock stowaways alongside the way in which. prepare for a hilarious high-flying event, with celebrated writer Frank Cottrell Boyce at the back of the wheel.
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The Count smiled, clambering out onto the side of the car, crawling along her bodywork toward the rear wheel. ” yelled Mum. The Count balanced on the running-board, bullets whistling round his head. “It’s not too sticky once you get the hang of it,” he yelled back. “Just like surfing. Except for the bullets, of course. ” The Tooting family watched in awe as the Count removed Chitty’s back tyre while hurtling along Fifth Avenue at full speed. “Did it all the time at Brooklands,” he said. “Can’t afford to stop to change tyres when you’re in a race, you know.
A wide red desert unrolled beneath them like a carpet. The sky filled up with unexpected colours and towers of red and purple clouds. Lightning flickered, illuminating great piles of bleached bones. “I think we just passed through the mass extinction at the end of the Cretaceous,” said Lucy. ” said Dad. “Just another sixty-six million years,” said Lucy. ” at the same time because all across the sky, the menacing clouds turned white and fluffy, and the dark sky turned bright blue. Blades of tall grass popped up from the sand like quick green fireworks, until the whole desert became a rippling savanna where the long necks of big birds rose up like feathery periscopes.
Down into the mud. Then her engine stopped. ” asked Mum. “It’s just stalled,” said Dad. No one said a word. They were all thinking the same thing. To start the engine, someone would have to get out of the car and turn the crank handle. ” muttered Mum. “Or maybe it will crush us underfoot,” said Lucy, “burying us in mud so that over the years we turn into fossils, and in millions of years, we will be one of the great mysteries of science — a family of humans that somehow managed to get themselves fossilized in the age of dinosaurs.