Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 300 The Journey to the West Team's Last Tribulation

Saturday, May 7th, 8:33 AM.

The car, carrying three people, had entered the Upper Manhattan area. This marked the end of this unprecedented long-distance car journey from Boston to New York.

But that's not enough, because the car also has to take Larry to Wall Street.

With victory seemingly within reach, Henry Ford frowned. He glanced at the road and then at the car's dashboard, an anxious look on his face.

"What's wrong with you? What's wrong with the car? It seems to be slow..." Mr. K patted Ford on the shoulder with concern.

Larry was still pondering the details of using betting tickets to open betting odds when he heard the two talking and turned around, noticing the strange expression on Ford's face.

"What's wrong? Is there a problem with the radiator again?" Larry raised his eyebrows.

"...No, it's worse than that, we're almost out of gas." Ford's face was long and drawn.

Larry paused, then turned to him and said, "Didn't I already tell you to prepare extra gasoline?"

Henry Ford didn't look at Larry, but stared at the road ahead. "I already used it. I filled up with all the spare gas at the Old Oak Inn..."

Mr. K was so shocked his jaw almost dislocated. He looked at the distant outline of the New York metropolis, estimating it was still at least a dozen miles away, and turned to Ford, saying, "My God, couldn't you have prepared more gas? What kind of nonsense is this, leaving us all stranded in the middle of nowhere?"

Henry Ford also looked aggrieved, "Who knew you guys would actually dare to come all the way from Boston to New York? This is unprecedented."

Larry rolled his eyes, thinking to himself, "Is this the last tribulation before the Journey to the West team reaches Leiyin Temple?"

The problem is, at that time in America... no! On Earth at that time, there were no gas stations like those that are ubiquitous in later generations.

Gasoline is still a very rare waste fuel for the general public. If it were dumped here because there was no gasoline, that would be a real problem!

Larry took out his gold-cased pocket watch, checked the time, and turned to Ford, saying, "Time is of the essence, sir. Do you have any ideas? This matter really cannot be delayed."

"What can I do? I can't just conjure up gasoline out of thin air!" Ford forced out the words.

“There has to be some way…” Larry noticed the car was starting to slow down, a sign that the fuel was running low. “Stop, stop! Let’s see if we’re really out of gas,” Larry shouted.

Henry Ford reluctantly pulled the car over to the side of the road.

All three jumped out of the car. Mr. K quickly opened the hood and then unscrewed the fuel tank cap.

At this point, the fuel tank is still located at the front of the car, not far from the engine.

While Mr. K squinted and peered inside, Larry and Henry Ford could only wait anxiously on the sidelines.

"There's also some gasoline! I saw it all!" Mr. K suddenly shouted.

"How is that possible? Let me take a look." Henry hurriedly pushed Mr. K aside, leaned closer to examine it, and even patted the fuel tank.

Sure enough, the fuel tank was still making a heavy hum, indicating that at least a quarter of the gasoline was still unused.

"There really is still fuel! But why is the engine almost out of fuel?" Ford turned to look at Larry, his face full of confusion.

"It must be a problem with your fuel tank design. There's a large gap between the fuel tank and the suction pipe, so the engine can't burn the last bit of fuel," Larry analyzed, frowning.

Henry Ford tilted his head and thought for a moment, then fell silent.

"What should we do now? There's still some oil left." Mr. K looked at the two of them.

Henry Ford gritted his teeth. "I'll handle it. Damn it, I guess I'm just unlucky."

He then walked back to the rear rack of the car and took out two bottles of whiskey from a leather bag inside.

"You're going to fill the fuel tank with alcohol?" Larry asked in surprise.

"How is that possible? Can a car drink alcohol?" Mr. K exclaimed in astonishment, staring at the Henry Ford whiskey.

Larry frowned. "Henry, if this doesn't work, we'll think of something else. Just don't pour the wine in!"

Ford glanced at the two men and gave a wry smile. "These are two bottles of whiskey I bought from the hotel. I was going to drink them on the road... Well, I guess I'll have to make do with these for now."

"Is it really possible?" Larry asked again.

"Theoretically, of course, it wouldn't work, but..." Ford bit open the bottle cap, spat it aside, and then continued.
"Even though this is bourbon whiskey, even though it's strong, its alcohol content is only around 60 degrees... But for current internal combustion engines, it can temporarily replace it. Fortunately, there's still 1/4 of gasoline and natural gas, which can be mixed together."

As he spoke, he began to slowly pour a bottle of whiskey into the fuel tank.

Larry's veins throbbed, but then he remembered. He vaguely recalled a French movie he'd seen as a child, where the main characters, running out of gas, ended up filling the tank with liquor and driving for a while…

Perhaps this was the only option available for the early, less sophisticated internal combustion engines.

“What a pity, such fine bourbon whiskey…” Mr. K sighed.

"What's there to regret? My internal combustion engine will definitely break down, that would be the real disaster." Ford's face was ashen, but he didn't stop pouring whiskey into the fuel tank.

After finishing one bottle, he opened the second one and poured it in again.

"Give it a try, God help me!" Ford sighed, tossed the two empty bottles aside, and resignedly returned to the driver's seat.

Lighting a fire...

No movement.

"I told you it was useless!" Mr. K exclaimed.

"When did you say that? Larry has been saying it the whole time," Ford retorted.

Ford glared at him, then pulled a crank handle from under the car and handed it to Mr. K. “Here, you crank it from the front! Let’s start it again… wait, let me open the valve a little wider.”

"Why me?" Mr. K muttered as he took the crank handle and stood at the front of the car, preparing to crank the engine as Henry Ford had instructed.

"shake!!"

As Mr. K shook the crank violently, the handle spun rapidly.

chug chu...

The car's engine was finally started again.

Even Larry could tell that the sound coming from the internal combustion engine this time was very strange...

"Get in the car quickly, I don't know how long he can hold on, we'd better get to our destination in one go..." Ford shouted to the two of them.

Larry and Mr. K quickly got back into the car. The car, which had downed two bottles of whiskey, wobbled and started moving again.

I must say, this premium whisky is truly exceptional. Although the internal combustion engine was extremely noisy and unpleasant, the car kept moving forward.

And so, the car, carrying the three shivering people, continued on its way.

After walking a little further, Larry saw a vast field by the roadside.

"The scenery here is really nice. If only we had this piece of land..." To the right of the car was a stretch of open land, and further away was the white expanse of the Hudson River.

This land belongs to the undeveloped vacant land in the Shangcheng District and is still a wasteland.

Because it was springtime, the wasteland was covered with blooming wildflowers of unknown species. The morning dew and the fragrance of the wildflowers, mixed with the earthy aroma, filled Larry's nostrils, creating a very pleasant atmosphere.

“Boss, are you making a wish?” Mr. K looked at Larry with a smile, then pointed to the vacant lot by the roadside. “You really want this piece of land? You’ll probably have to spend a fortune… Wasteland in Uptown New York is also very expensive.”

Larry turned to look at Mr. K and said with a smile, "You can jinx things, and you're quite accurate, so I can try it out and see if my wish can come true."

Hearing the two joking around like this, Henry Ford remarked, "Since you're both making wishes, I'll make one too. I wish my car would become the best-selling car in the world!"

“It will, Mr. Ford. I firmly believe it.” Larry smiled and looked at him.

However, judging from Ford's expression, he wasn't very happy.

Or was he thinking of Senator Kennedy, whom he didn't like? Or was he thinking of his diluted shares? Or was he genuinely worried about whether his car would arrive in Manhattan on time?
In short, Ford didn't look happy!
The car lurched forward and finally entered a residential area.

This wasn't the typical villa complex found on the Upper West Side, but rather a former rural town. Many residents were going about their morning work when suddenly a strange-looking machine carrying three people barged into their community.

Unlike the residents' surprise, Henry Ford's face showed excitement. As he drove, he craned his neck and kept searching for his target on the street.

"What are you looking for?" Larry asked curiously.

"Laundry shop! I'd like to get some more gasoline," Ford replied casually.

“How could a laundromat have gasoline?” Larry frowned, not understanding what Henry Ford was talking about.

However, Larry's words made Mr. K look at Larry with that "Boss, do you have any common sense?" look again. Finally, he couldn't help but complain.
"To be honest, before we saw cars, who, apart from laundromats, would have gasoline, that piece of junk?"

Larry was utterly astonished! His curiosity even overshadowed his instinct to hide his surprise. Larry stared wide-eyed and asked, "What's the laundromat doing with gasoline?"

"Use it as a cleaning agent! Without gasoline, how are you going to clean oil stains and dirt off your clothes?" Mr. K shouted.

"You don't use laundry detergent to clean oil stains?" Larry was also surprised.

Upon hearing Larry's question, both Henry Ford and Larry looked at him blankly and asked, "What is laundry detergent?"

Larry was completely bewildered.

He didn't know if laundry detergent had been invented yet, and he dared not say anything more.

He didn't want to reveal anything further, as he knew he was bound to make a mistake if he said too much.

Fortunately, Henry Ford suddenly spotted a laundromat on the side of the road and quickly slammed on the brakes to stop near it.

Immediately afterwards, he rushed to the laundromat to buy gasoline.

After a while, Ford came out carrying two large, greasy glass bottles, which were filled with gasoline.

"How lucky!" Henry Ford finally smiled again.

"So you won't need to overhaul your internal combustion engine?" Mr. K asked.

Ford continued pouring gasoline, ignoring his probing question.

·
At 9:42 a.m., the car, after a long and arduous journey, finally arrived on the street where the Paine Weber Securities Company branch was located.

As the car pulled up in front of the business office, Henry Ford sighed, "Finally here!"

Mr. K kept patting the seat and exclaiming, "My God, it really is true! In less than 20 hours, we've come all the way from Boston to New York... This is truly a miracle!"

By this time, the crowd of onlookers who had followed them all the way had almost completely blocked the road...

Everyone stared in shock at the strange machine and the three passengers on it, asking each other—did these three people travel all the way here in such a strange machine?
Even some reporters with a keen sense of smell ran over from the crowd, snapping photos and preparing for this explosive news.

Henry Ford buried his face in the steering wheel, his shoulders heaving and his whole body trembling; he was clearly very excited.

Larry understood the gravity of the moment! But for him, making money was the most important thing right now…

He jumped out of the car and rushed to the New York branch of Paine Weber Securities.

Pushing open the door of the business office, Larry was surprised to find that people were already waiting for him in the temporary reception area in the lobby.

A well-dressed, handsome middle-aged man sat on the sofa in the lobby, sipping a cup of black tea.

The man was about 40 years old, with bright eyes, neatly combed hair, and a face that exuded a mixture of refinement and arrogance, and was undeniably wealthy.

There were two people sitting next to him.

To his left was Mr. Potter, who was smiling at Larry who had rushed over, his eyes full of approval.

To the right of the middle-aged man, a handsome man who looked to be under 20, just as young as himself, sat calmly, his eyes looking past Larry at the strange car outside the glass shop window.

Larry thought for a moment and understood the scene before him. He put on his signature warm smile, took half a step forward, and extended his hand to the man sitting in the middle. "It's a great honor to meet you, Mr. Stillman!"

Stillman put down his teacup, a smile spreading across his face. He slowly stood up and solemnly shook hands with Larry.

“Thank you. To be honest, you really surprised me, especially…” He glanced at the car that was being watched by a crowd on the street behind Larry, and continued, “especially the way you came out.”

"You're too kind," Larry replied with a smile.

Before the two could exchange pleasantries, the young man sitting next to Larry stood up and extended his hand to him, saying, "I heard you wanted to see me, Mr. Livingston."

“You are…” Larry turned his head, his smile growing even more intense—of course he knew who the other person was.

"John D. Rockefeller Jr." the young man introduced himself.

(End of this chapter)