Perhaps the whole thing had started at the Gateway of Mars, when Ms. Claudette Duck had asked him what would happen to the battered SpaceDrift 3000 if he put it into reverse.
Assuming, as any student would, that the action of putting the craft into reverse was the very thing needed to do in that current situation, Zlof Cug followed obediently.
30 lightminutes later, they were sitting in a Costa-Galaxy sipping tea waiting for the mechanic to fix the broken down machine. Zlof wasn’t too worried, and surprisingly, neither was Ms. Claudette Duck – his driving instructor.
“Well! That was quite a rumble-tumble wasn’t, eh? Well done,” said Claudette enthusiastically, as Zlof raised a disbelieving eyebrow, “You pulled out of that 2000mph nearside to offside skid quite effectively once you realized your mistake! Amazing!”
“I’m sorry…” said Zlof, and he meant it too.
“Oh, come now, never say sorry to me”
The mechanic, a stocky and sturdy fellow called Mister Raltor, arrived with the diagnosis of the old spacecraft.
“Well,” he said with a sigh, “I can get it fixed luv, but it’ll take a while. I don’t know what you did to it sonnyjim, but it sure did muck up the interior system – not to mention the CD player.”
Thankfully, they still had a tape player and MP3 converter.
Mister Raltor continued with his discourse, punctuated with several sighs and deep breaths – a sure indication of the price to come.
“I can give you a replacement for the while…but….well, you see, I’ve had a lot of cases like this and…well, come and see for yourself.”
They walked across the hyperspace service station platform to the mechanic’s garage. Mister Raltor pointed them to another rather battered down machine, a FIAT Punto machine, taken from long ago, now souped up to travel at max 100 lightyears per hour in a clear space path.
“FIAT” said Zlof slowly, “That sounds ominous – I thought they went bust years ago.”
“They did Jim,” said Raltor, “But this one been restored to full glory! As reliable as a rock! You won’t find a better car! There’s only one problem though…”
“What?”
“It’s a right hand side drive.”
“Continental?”
“No, right hand side drive.”
“WELL!” exclaimed Claudette “I think we should be getting on now! Thank you very, very much Mister Raltor.”
Claudette, that friendly duck, dragged Zlof away and into the passenger, and then driver’s seat FIAT.
“I’m not sure I’m that comfortable with this new car, Miss Duck.”
“Sure, sure! It’ll be fine. Just remember to…now Zlof, was it right to enter out into a fast hyperspace junction in front of that 700 ton megatruck making it swerve and only just missing that pedestrian on the far hand side?”
“Err…yes?!” said Zlof uncertainly. This was all a bit much.
They drove, with much danger and curiosity into a smaller space path with less crafts.
“Right,” continued Claudette in her placid and calm instructor voice, “Turn left.”
“Right?”
“Left, Zlof.”
“You said ‘Right’!”
In Zlof Cug’s confusion, the car swerved right and into an eerily chill and desolate, empty space path.
“Now, Zlof, why did you turn right, hmmm?”
“Oh, I…I…” Cug was so ashamed, “Well, it’s this car…and the confusion… I’m used to the everything being left!”
“Well,” said Claudette, still calm, “We’ll just do a turn in a road and get ourselves back on track shall we?”
“I think that would be quite hard, Ms. Duck.”
“And why should you think that? We have learnt a turn in a road, yes?”
“Well, we’re in a black hole.”
They both looked back and saw the familiar space drifting away.
“Ah,” said Ms Duck…
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