Before today the most violent encounter Dido had ever had with an animal occurred between him and the dog next door. And it was the dog who got the worse of it. 

What happened was this. As Dido was walking through his side yard one day, the dog came barking at him from behind the chain link fence. This was nothing new. She barked every time Dido or anyone walked by. But today he was not in the mood. A half brick happened to be lying near his feet. And the next thing he knew, it was whizzing through the air and—BAM!—brick met fence with a terrific metallic clatter.

The effect on the dog of the unexpected sound an inch from her face was big. She scuttled out of sight without so much as a yelp. Nor did she ever make a sound again, at least not when Dido was around. 

He always felt a little bit bad about that. 

I might have chosen a nicer way to introduce our hero, who overall is a pretty okay kid. But it’s some background that will be useful to know when the dog and he meet later on. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s procede with our tale. 

“Pop!”

Dido put his ear to the window.

POP! Chickita-POP! AOOOGA! POP! POP! AOOOOOOOOGA! 

“Baby!” Dido cried.

At the top of the list of things Dido liked about his Uncle Teppy was that he always brought Baby. And that pretty much brings us to the end of the list of things Dido liked about his Uncle Teppy. Not that he had a list of dislikes. The man was nice enough. But, well, “Weird goofball” was the best way to how Dido would sum the man up.

He pressed his forehead against the glass and looked down to the curb. There, a man in a bowler hat was holding the car door open, standing stiffly at attention as though he were a chauffeur. But let’s move our eyes downward from the hat.

First, we’re startled by an impossibly-loud Hawaiian shirt. Below that: cargo shorts, all six pockets packed to the brims with enough who-knew-what for a week-long backpacking trip. An inch or so of bare, skinny legs separated the shorts from the Frankenstein-sized “waffle-stomper” hiking boots. Not the correct uniform for a chauffeur at all. Nor do proper chauffeurs whistle while waiting for the young master to arrive.

Dido slowly shook his head. See what he meant? Weird goofball.

But then: Ahh! Then there was Baby.

Baby was an Austin 7, a cute little racing car made in England over a hundred years ago. She was canary yellow, had a steering wheel on the right, a top that went down, a funny horn, and all the fixings. “Baby” was the name Uncle Teppy gave her. He called her a she, not an it. And, somehow, Dido, too, Dido thought of her as as a living thing. The coolest living thing on four wheels.

If this were a normal Saturday, Dido would ride his bike over to one of his friends’ houses, and from there they’d go find some kind of trouble to get into.

Not today. Dido’s mom had been reminding him all week that he was to spend today with his uncle.

So he didn’t whine about it. He shrugged, went from the window, down the stairs, out the door, sighed as he passed his bike, made a face at the dog behind the fence, muttered “Hi” to this uncle and  jumped into the driver’s seat. Uncle Teppy let him fiddle with what few things there are to fiddle with on an Austin 7 dashboard and to push the horn button a few times; then he hopped in, himself, pushing Dido over to the passenger seat. 

Dido’s mom, Ms. Day, soon followed and looked the car over. 

“Little brother,” she said, leaning her forearms on the window. “I think you could use a tune-up.”

  “I know, I know. And the car could use one, too. Badum Tshhhh,” Uncle Teppy said, looking at Dido and hitting an invisible drum and cymbal.

“Slappy Dee! You ready?” 

He was always coming up with some new weird name like that. But all Dido said was that, yes, he was ready.

Ms. Day stood up.

“Tep, thanks ag—”

AOOGA! 

The interruption seemed to come from Baby herself, for Dido’s hands were folded innocently in his lap, while Uncle Teppy’s were busy with the complicated procedure of starting the car.

“Chickita-pickita-pickita-POP! Chickita-pickita-POP! POP! AOOGA AOOGA…” 

“Don’t come back too late!” shouted Ms. Day over the noise. 

  “What?” shouted Uncle Teppy, putting his hand to his ear.

“It’s supposed to be windy tonight!”

  “What?” shouted Dido, putting his hand to his ear. 

She gave it up and waved them away.

“Tally-woah-hey!” cried Uncle Teppy, waving his hat. And away they went, Baby popping and aooga-ing up the hill until they were out of sight.

In one house after another, neighbors took their hands off their ears and slid their windows back open to the peaceful spring morning. 

Chapter 2: Why?