Aaah, taking your first driving lesson - oh, the memories! Can't say mine was quite as eventful as Alan's, though. My only 'meep' moment was confusing the brake pedal with the accelerator.

Luckily, it was right at the start of the lesson, and my instructor saw the funny side. At least, I think he did!

Anyhoo, back to Designated Driver. And for anyone who wondered how Scott would react to his baby brother's little adventure... well, I think it might have gone something like this.

Enjoy!

Driven To Distraction

There was a reason why Alan had chosen his moment to say what he'd just said.

"...and I... uh, kinda... flipped the car."

"You did WHAT?!"

Yup, there it was. Why he'd waited for Scott to finish his tea, and place his exquisitely fine china cup back on its saucer. Any earlier, and... yeah, it would have been crockery carnage.

Of course, the alternative was almost as bad.

Flying to his feet, his brother also pretty much flew over the coffee table between them, so fast that he almost ended up in Parker's lap, and... yeah, that would have been bad. One eighty pounds of suited and booted Scott Tracy was enough to flatten you into the floorboards. Probably break your other arm, too, and... uh-oh.

"You flipped the car?! How the hell did you do that? Are you hurt? Were you wearing your belt? Are you sure you're not hurt, and... damn it, Alan, why didn't you tell me before?!"

Against this barrage of questions, just three words crept out to meet them.

"Well, um... this?!"

Still anxiously checking him over, it took Scott a moment to remember where he was, and realize what he was doing. In the middle of Penelope's living room, he'd all but picked Alan up, as if he were a wailing toddler, and... ye-ah.

For once eye to eye with him, the plea on that brother's face just said it all.

'Put. Me. Down.'

Setting him gently down again, Scott offered him a 'sorry, bud' grin that, to his relief, came freely returned as he sat back beside him. To his greater relief, Penny was smiling too, with all the grace and poise of a true English lady as she re-filled their tea.

"Don't worry, Scott... aside from some beheaded statues, some old roses that needed deadheading anyway, a rather smashed window, those little holes in the roof... oh, and poor Parker too, of course, there's really no harm done, and... oh dear, Scott... are you all right?"

Choking down the rest of his tea, Scott nodded with all the dignity that spluttering like a stranded fish allowed. And was it a bit of brotherly payback here, or did Alan have to whack his back quite so hard?

"Yeah, Lady P, I'm... uh, fine, thanks," he finally managed, throwing a silent plea of his own towards his ever helpful little helper.

'For the sake of my shoulder blades, enough already!'

With order more or less restored, he could get back to more serious matters. While Alan had driven Aunt Sylvia to catch her train, both Penny and Parker had been oddly reluctant to tell him how his first driving lesson had gone.

"Oh, really, Scott, I'm sure Alan would much rather tell you all about it himself."

With no reason to argue, he'd thought nothing of it. As his brother's latest rite of passage... yes, it had made perfect sense. Now, though? Well, as he glanced in turn between their still smiling faces - ye-ah. Not so much.

On each, he found the same, maddeningly placid smile. On Penny's, it transformed her into a modern day Mona Lisa, while Parker's held a more fatherly affection.

And Alan's? Well, that had the kind of 'I-know-something-you-don't-know!' smugness that drove his biggest big brother absolutely nuts.

Well, fine. What baby brother dished out in smartass, he could give back with just as much sarcasm. And interest.

"So, then... would someone care to tell me how a simple driving lesson ended up like the Indy 500?"

In perfect unity, three grins turned into an exchange of 'where-do-we-start?' glances. In true 'ladies first' tradition, it was Penny who finally answered him.

"...well, it all started when Aunt Sylvia arrived for tea..."

"...ho no, m'lady... h'it were those two 'orrible ruffians what started it..."

"...hey, I thought it was when you wouldn't let me drive FAB 1!"

Oh, good grief.

Rubbing his forehead, Scott then glanced towards his youngest brother - as intrigued as he was relieved when Penny and Parker both did the same. It was Penny, though, who gently nudged him in the right direction.

"Well, as the hero of the hour, Alan... yes, I think it's only fair that you tell Scott all about your... um... little adventure."

Scott's eyebrows now flew back up into his fringe. Little adventure? From just his first damn driving lesson, he'd somehow managed to wreck half of Creighton Ward estate? Well, from the kid who could cause chaos in an empty room, it really shouldn't have surprised him, and... oh, great. Thank you, Parker.

"Ho yes, Mister Scott, sir... h'it makes your little h'adventure look positively h'ordinary."

Damn, was he ever going to pay for that on the way home? Still, as his old football coach had drilled into him, the best offence is a good defence. And that defence sprang into action before Alan could even open his mouth.

"Yeah, it... uh, sounds like you've had a real interesting day, Alan... and, uh, how did you say it started again?"

Thrown thankfully off track, Alan frowned for a few more moments, before his trademark grin beamed back to replace it. To Scott's surprise, that grin only seemed to get bigger as his brother started to recall his 'little adventure.'

"Well, I guess it all started as Lady P... I - I mean Lady Penelope just said... see, Parker was with me, letting me drive around the estate, and... well, I guess those two burglars, or kidnappers, or whatever they were, saw the house wasn't guarded like it usually is, and... well, like I said already, that's... um, how Parker broke his arm... when I saw that alarm come up on the dash, I just wanted us to get back there to help, and..."

The smile had faded now, replaced by an awkward wince as Alan glanced back at Parker. Yes, he'd apologized already, several times, for getting him hurt, but... well, one more wouldn't hurt either.

"And I'm really sorry, Parker, for crashing like that, and getting you hurt, but..."

"...you were worried for m'lady, Mister Alan, sir..." Parker finished for him, a surprisingly warm smile assuring him there were no hard feelings. "It's qu'hite all right, Mister Alan, sir... h'it was just your h'instincts and h'upringing, takin' over to help a lady h'out of danger..."

"Yes, Alan, you really were the chivalrous hero, coming to our rescue like that," Penny agreed, smiling too as she passed him the further reward of a fresh plate of cookies. "I'm sure Great Aunt Sylvia will be eternally grateful too."

Ah yes, the quickest way to cheer up a Tracy. Lots of praise, and a big plate of choc chip cookies. Yes, the grin was back now, easily outshining the one on Scott's face as he tried to work out the best time to chance another mouthful of apple pie. And with cookie-power came more tales of Tracy heroics.

"Yeah, she's a really nice lady, and... hey, how cool was that teapot? I mean, that forcefield it generated around us when we were crashing to the ground was just sooo cool!"

Cue choking fit number two. Damn if that hadn't been the wrong moment to finish off his pie, and... ye-ah. On top of utter confusion, this was getting downright embarrassing.

Breath regained, and shoulder blades now further displaced, Scott threw his brother the best 'what-the-hell?' glance that he could politely manage.

"Crashing to the ground?! As in you were actually off it?"

Aah, the sarcasm was back. And, it seemed, his brother was developing quite the knack for it too.

"Oh, yeah! I mean, Fab O might be old, but she's just so cool too... as great in the air as she is on the ground, and... see, the bad guys were in Fab I, stuck on the roof, so once I flew Fab O up to hitch them up to us, and get them down... well, we just started spinning round, see, all out of control, and... well, that's when the really cool stuff happened!"

Uh huh. As if taking your first driving lesson in a flying car wasn't 'cool' enough.

Opening his mouth to reply, Scott then realized he really shouldn't bother, and just rubbed his eyes instead. The clock on the mantel in front of him read just shy of midnight, and... yeah, at this rate, they might just be done by lunchtime.

To his relief, Penny had recognized a silent plea for help when she saw it, and now nudged this seemingly never-ending tale towards its end.

"Yes, I'll really have to ask Aunt Sylvia more about that when she next comes to visit... to think I assumed she'd come here for tea, when she'd actually come here for tea!"

Or not.

Subtly politely, Scott glanced down at his latest slice of pie. Among those delicious Bramleys, and cloves, and cinnamon... yes, some other secret ingedient had to be lurking under all that lusciously sugary pastry. Why else would he be sitting here, trying to figure out a simple sentence that didn't make a blind bit of sense?

"...yes, no wonder those ruffians were trying to steal it... a Targeted Electromagnetic Actuator would come in awfully useful for them."

Ah, T.E.A! Yes, that made everything just so much clearer, and... yeah, maybe he should just keep quiet now, and eat his pie. He'd stay saner that way.

Yeah, right.

"Well, we sure showed them, didn't we?"

"We certainly did, Alan... yes, I doubt they'll try to burgle the Creighton-Wards again in a hurry..."

"...yeah, they'd be real dumb to take on Great Aunt Sylvia, and... hey, do you think she'd mind if I called in to see her some time?"

"...oh yes, Alan... I'm sure she would just love to see you again!"

"...ho yes, Mister Alan, sir... h'I would say you made quite the h'impression... believe me, Aunt Sylvia is not one to be h'easily h'impressed..."

"...oh, really, Parker? You must know her awfully well to know that!"

At the centre of curiously amused attention, Parker then followed Scott's excellent example, and reached for face-saving pie.

Still smiling, Penny threw the same look of amused sympathy towards Scott. Tennis probably wasn't his thing, of course, but... yes, she'd just have to invite him to join her at Wimbledon. He had that 'bik-bok-bik-bok-bik-bok' head-swing down to a fine art.

More seriously, of course, it was getting late now, and he had a long flight home ahead of him.

"So, Scott? Does this mean I get to fly One now?"

Assuming he didn't choke to death first.

*splurk*

*whack*

"No."

"Aww, why not? You heard Parker, I've passed my test!"

"Still no."

And so it went on. Along the hall, through the doors, and all the polite goodbyes. An unusually brisk run to his waiting 'bird, and... damn it, through every one of his pre-flight checks.

"...but aren't you proud of me, Scott? For saving the day like that?"

"...hell, yes!"

"...so you're gonna let me do it?"

"...hell, no..."

"...why not?"

"...well, see these pedals here? You kinda need to be able to reach them..."

"...but if Virgil made me my own chair, I would be able to reach them...!"

"...for the last time, Alan... no..."

"...okay, fine, and... hey, did you really hit reverse by accident, like Parker said, and crash into Lady Penelope's greenhouse?"

"...so help me, if you breathe a word of that to anyone, I'm gonna ground you 'til Christmas..."

"...hey, that's only two months away..."

"...Christmas 2080..."

"...you wouldn't dare...!"

"...try me..."

Yes, those twenty minutes felt like the longest of Scott Tracy's life. Barely time, it would seem, for him to win a seemingly unwinnable argument. But win it he would. And a stroke of absolute genius gave him just the means to do it.

Oh, yes. Come the next morning, his baby brother would be in for one hell of a surprise.

That moment came just shy of mid-day, but... oh, that wait was more than worth it.

"DON'T PULL OUT!"

"Gaaah! What the...?"

"...well, I didn't want to cover reverse this early, but as long as you've shifted into it..."

"...hey, who the hell is that?!"

"...but, uh, you were in the left hand lane, and you were signalling left, and I just more or less assumed you were going to turn left..."

"...hey, what happened to my Rock Up, Baby alarm?!"

To the delight of covertly watching eyes, Alan then climbed to his feet and stumbled across to his dresser - frowning even more at the track that had so mysteriously replaced his favourite way to start the day.

"The Driving Instructor, by Bob Newhart... Bob Newhart? Who the hell's Bob Newhart?!"