Despite not knowing how either Hammond and May were currently doing in the race, this was currently the last thing on either of Clarkson's or my minds, as we both continued to shovel coal, continuing to stoke the fires of our respective engines. As the train romped down the east coast mainline, maintaining 75 MPH, as it neared its first coal and water stop, at Grantham. Surprisingly despite both of us having been out of shape, (a/n: Because let's be honest, I am not very skinny in real life, and neither is Clarkson for that matter, so, for this fanfic, I am trying to be as accurate to real life as I can possibly be) we managed to get the train to Grantham, a full 7 minutes ahead of schedule. But despite this, we still had a long way to go, and the train still had to stop several more times along the journey to Edinburgh for more coal and water. Something that would ultimately prove at one stop to be the kiss of death for us.