Gods Of Speed And Luck

 A truck slows down and stops.

Any chance of a lift into Adelaide? asks Gaius.

The truck driver makes an assessment. 

Two men, no longer young, with backpacks. An infant, in a knitted Peruvian hat.

Okay, hop in, says the driver.

They squeeze into the front seat, beside him, Terence on Pierre-Louis's lap.

What's your story? asks the driver.

We're going to Bilbo, says Terence. We have to hurry.

Bilbao, says Gaius. But Terence is right. We must get to Adelaide airport before seven.

You'll be lucky, says the driver.

That's good, says Terence.

I mean you'll have to be lucky, says the driver. It's cutting it fine. Once we hit Adelaide there's traffic.

We must trust to the gods, says Gaius.

Ha ha, laughs Pierre-Louis. Which ones?

Mercury and Fortuna, says Gaius.

Go on, says Terence.

Go on what? asks Gaius.

Ask them, says Terence. O gods let us have what we want.

O gods let the driver drive fast enough to get us to the Adelaide Airport before seven, says Gaius. That would be more specific.

O gods let the traffic be sparse, says Pierre-Louis.

You guys believe in that stuff? asks the driver.

No, says Gaius. 

No, says Pierre-Louis. 

Yes, says Terence. I always get what I ask for.

You don't, says Gaius. 

I got a red sandwich on the train, says Terence.

I hope you didn't eat it, says Gaius. 

I would have, but the train stopped and we all had to leave the café and Albertine took it, says Terence.

Does that count as you always getting what you want? asks the driver.

Terence thinks. It's a good question. He got it. But then he lost it. Whose fault was that?

The truck passes through Keith and Tintinara.

We're making good time, says the truck driver.

Excellent, says Gaius. 

Bilbao, here we come! says Pierre-Louis.

Why d'you want to go there? asks the driver.

The Tour de France starts from there, says Gaius. We have the privilege of being in it. It starts this Saturday

Sheeeeez! says the driver. Shouldn't you be there already?

Probably, admits Gaius

Unknown to him (or anyone), Mercury and Fortuna are observing.

Shall we? says Mercury.

Let's, says Fortuna. She smiles.

The driver speeds up imperceptibly, because he was already going quite fast.

Murray Bridge, Mount Barker and onto the freeway, through the Heysen Tunnel, onto Glen Osmond Road....and why is there so little traffic? 

And at last, at ten minutes to seven, the truck stops at the airport passenger setdown.

Our lucky heroes get out. 

Mercury and Fortuna now turn their attentions elsewhere.