Well, I've been set in the back seat. Relegated to ignominious position of rear-seat captain. An employment scarce better than that of the luggage of which I share my space.

Driving, or rather manhandling our vehicle is Hans. His intemperate and forceful style of automobiling is urged on and encouraged with unfettered excitement by Roberta.

Between the dubious pair we are rattling down the lorry-way at excessive speeds that make one's hair stand on end and tremble in fear.

At one dark moment Hans asked, while barreling across the Earth at a speed of not less than 60 mph, to "have a cracker". Thus, at once risking our very lives and trying to demote me to a mere fetcher of foods.

As a practiced captain I would have none of it. Instead, I stole the last biscuit into my own mouth and near swallowed it whole, putting the mutinous lackey back into his place and safeguarding our lives from any tragic vehicular distractions.

Nonstop travel being what it is, my person is still in the back-seat but my status in the team hierarchy remains firmly planted at the forefront of this team and vehicle.