"Hell, that's for old women. Must have taken you over an hour to get there. Now you'll make it in almost thirty minutes. Still, it's best to take it easy the first day. Don't get 'er over 600 per. But don't let 'er fall beneath that either. If you do, some old veteran'll know you're a greenhorn and try to knock you off." Suddenly Harry Hayden stiffened. "Here come a couple! Look at 'em, boy!" The low rumbling came out of the west, as of angry bees. Twin pinpoints of black appeared on the distant white ribbon. Louder and louder the rumbling. Larger and larger the dots. To Tom, the sterile Jetway was transformed into a home of horror, an amphitheatre of death. Louder and larger-- _Brooommmmmm._ Gone. "Hey, how'ja like that, boy? They're gonna crack the sonic barrier or my name's not Harry Hayden!" Tom's white-knuckled hands grasped a railing for support. _Christ, I'm going to be sick. I'm going to vomit._ "But wait'll five o'clock or nine in the morning. That's when you see the traffic. That's when you _really_ do some Driving!" Tom gulped. "Is--is there a rest room here?" "What's that, boy?" "A--a rest room." "What's the matter, boy? You _do_ look sick. Too much excitement, maybe?" Tom motioned frantically. Harry Hayden pointed, slow comprehension crawling over his puffy features. "Up the ramp, to your right." Tom Rogers made it just in time.... * * * * * Many voices: "Happy Driving to You, Happy Driving to You, Happy Driving, Dear Taaa-ahmmm--" (pause) "Happy Driving to--" (flourish) "--You!" An explosion of laughter. A descent of beaming faces, a thrusting forward of hands. Mom reached him first. Her small face was pale under its thin coat of make-up. Her firm, rounded body was like a girl's in its dress of swishing Martian silk, yet her blue eyes were sad and her voice held a trembling fear: "You passed, Tom?" Softly. Tom's upper lip twitched. Was she afraid that he'd passed the tests--or that he hadn't! He wasn't sure. Before he could answer, Dad broke in, hilariously. "Everybody passes these days excepts idiots and cripples!" Tom tried to join the chorus of laughter. Dad said, more softly, "You _did_ pass, didn't you?" "I passed," said Tom, forcing a smile. "But, Dad, I didn't want a surprise party. Really, I--" "Nonsense." Dad straightened. "This is the happiest moment of our lives--or at least it _should_ be." Dad grinned. An understanding, intimate and gentle, flickered across his handsome, gray-thatched features. For an instant Tom felt that he was not alone. Then the grin faded. Dad resumed his role of proud and blustering father. Light glittered on his three rows of Driver's Ribbons. The huge Blue Ribbon of Honor was in their center, like a blue flower in an evil garden of bronze accident stars, crimson fatality ribbons and silver death's-heads.