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JimBob Mort yawned and stretched, staring at his Ferrari poster on the wall. Bright, shiny red, pure thrill of speed- that was his dream car. His little sister Zobo was outside, playing with her unicorns across the landing, squeaking, ""Neigh! Trott, little unicorn!"" JimBob rolled his eyes. At least someone was having fun. ""JimBob! Zobo! Time for bed!"" Mom, Hayz, called from downstairs, her voice booming like a racecar engine. JimBob groaned. Sleep meant leaving his race tracks and cars behind, but rules were rules. After brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas covered with tiny racing cars, he climbed into bed. Zobo was tucked in, clutching her unicorn, whispering, ""Don't race too fast in your dreams, JimBob, you might crash."" JimBob grinned. ""That sounds like fun."" And then... everything changed. When he opened his eyes, it wasn't his bedroom. The floor was huge, metal and tools everywhere, and in the centre, a massive pile of metal stacked in a heap. His heart thumped. His hands were bigger. His reflection in a window showed him grown up - at least thirty years old! Before he could think, voices shouted greetings. Charlie Sparks, Timmy Gears, and Wayne Washers appeared, smiling and ready to work. ""Welcome to your workshop, boss!"" they said. JimBob's pulse raced. His very own garage, but one so huge it was unbelievable - a mountain of metal to turn into something amazing, and a team of experts waiting for his orders.

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