Danger And Play

Most of the teams are in Brussels already.

Riding down cobbled streets, being applauded.

There goes Richie Porte, of team Trek Segafredo.

In a white kit with more red this year.

Sweezus, Arthur and Sprocket are still in Dubai.

Sweezus is looking at Richie Porte's Twitter feed.

He shows the photo to Arthur.

Nice kit. I thought we were getting new kits this time, says Arthur.

Turns out we aren't, says Sweezus.

What's ours look like? asks Sprocket.

Same as last year, says Sweezus.

Cream bike knicks, green jersey. Dark brown drinks pouch. We look like tree frogs, says Arthur.

Do I get one? asks Sprocket.

Sure you do, says Sweezus. It's Pablo's. He was skinny like you.

How come he's not here? asks Sprocket.

Got a job, says Sweezus. Diplomat or something.

Awesome, says Sprocket. So that means it's just the three of us.

Yeah, says Sweezus. We could really use one more.

Attention! Time for boarding.

They board the plane for Brussels, and sit near the back.

Team Philosophe is on the same flight, but further forward.

Vello, David and Gaius settle down quickly.

Nietzsche fusses. His overhead locker won't close.

Let me do it, says Belle.

She stands up to do it. The problem is Terence's Trunkie.

She moves it sideways, and sits down.

Terence is in the window seat, next to Nietzsche.

Terence has a puzzle book, with mazes and jokes, to keep him busy.

Nietzsche gazes out of the window, and thinks philosophical thoughts.

The true man wants two things. Danger and play. Yes, that's worth writing down.

Belle wonders if she should have sat in the middle.

Terence has done all the mazes and is up to the jokes page.

He can't read very well. He tugs at Nietzsche.

What is it? asks Nietzsche. I'm thinking.

This IS thinking, says Terence. What does it say?

Nietzsche looks down. What do race horses eat? says Nietzsche.

Hamburgers, says Terence.

Wrong. Fast food, says Nietzsche.

O, but isn't he clever to have nearly got the right answer! says Belle.

Terence looks proud.

How long to Brussels? thinks Nietzsche.

Up in the overhead locker, inside the Trunkie, wedged between a Peruvian hat and a tiny bicycle, Mouldy is wondering that too.