Mayson was convinced his dad was a secret agent. Why else would he bring home a car that looked like a giant, shiny loaf of bread? It was a vintage station wagon with faded wood panels on the sides. To most people, it looked like an old family car from a long time ago. To Mayson, it was the Mark IV Stealth Interceptor.

"Careful with the paint, Mayson," his dad said, patting the hood with a proud smile. "She’s a classic. I am going inside to grab the owner's manual. Don't touch anything yet!"

Mayson waited until the screen door clicked shut. He approached the vehicle with narrowed eyes. He tapped the wood paneling with his knuckles. It made a solid thud. Sturdy, Mayson thought. It is probably armored plating disguised as oak to fool the villains.

He climbed into the driver’s seat. The smell of old vinyl and dusty floor mats filled the air. Aha! The scent of a long-term stakeout, Mayson whispered to himself. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket and began to take notes on the "secret features" of the interior.

He looked at the dashboard. It was a forest of silver knobs and heavy switches. He spotted a large, round button near the steering wheel with a picture of a fan on it. "Turbo-boost cooling fans," Mayson muttered. He pressed it firmly. A loud, rattling roar filled the cabin, and a blast of cold air hit Mayson right in the face. He scrambled back, nearly dropping his notebook. It was powerful—clearly meant to cool down the engines after a high-speed chase through the desert.

Next, he saw a long lever on the side of the steering column. It was labeled with the letters P, R, N, D, and L. Mayson knew exactly what those secret codes meant. P was for Power. R was for Rockets. N was for Night-vision. D was for Destruction. And L was clearly for Lasers. He reached for the L lever, but then he hesitated. He didn't want to accidentally melt the garage door. That would be very hard to explain to his mom before dinner.

He turned his attention to the glove box. When he pulled the silver handle, it didn't just drop open. It creaked slowly, revealing a dark hidden compartment. Inside, he found a pair of oversized, yellow-tinted sunglasses and a crumpled map of the city. The mission briefing! Mayson’s heart raced. The glasses were obviously high-tech scanners that could see through walls. He put them on. Everything in the driveway turned a bright, glowing yellow.

"I can see everything," he whispered, looking at a garden gnome across the street. The gnome looked very suspicious in yellow. Mayson was sure the gnome was working for the other side.

Suddenly, Mayson saw a mysterious red button near the gear shift. It had no label at all. This was it. The big one. This had to be the Ejection Seat or maybe an Invisibility Cloak. He took a deep breath, braced his feet against the floor, and pushed it with all his might.

Squeak!

A tiny door on the dashboard popped open, and a small, round plastic tray slid out. Mayson stared at it. It didn't look like a weapon. It didn't look like a cloaking device. It just had a circular indent in the middle.

"Is it... a miniature satellite dish for communicating with space?" Mayson wondered aloud.

Just then, his dad walked back out, carrying two cold glasses of lemonade. He saw Mayson sitting in the driver’s seat wearing the giant yellow sunglasses and staring at the dashboard.

"Oh, I see you found the cup holder," Dad said, grinning. He reached through the open window and set one of the lemonades into the "satellite dish." It fit perfectly. The cold glass sat right in the center of the tray.

Mayson looked down at the lemonade. Then he looked at the Power-Rockets-Lasers lever. Then he looked at his dad.

"Dad," Mayson asked, "does this car have an oil-slick dispenser for escaping enemies?"

Dad laughed as he hopped into the passenger seat. "Not on purpose, Mayson! But based on the little puddle forming under the engine, I’d say we have a very realistic 'leak' feature. We should probably drive it to the shop to get that fixed."

Mayson sighed and took off the yellow glasses. It wasn't a spy car. It was just a thirsty old wagon that liked to leak oil. But as his dad turned the key and the engine rumbled like a happy, mechanical lion, Mayson decided that a car with a "satellite dish" for lemonade was still a pretty great ride.