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keyhole by two muscular gnomes. They gave a twist and some lights came on.
    ‘Right,’ said Rincemangle, looking down at the waiting crowds. ‘Well, this is going to be a tricky business, so let’s get started right away.’ Featherhead joined him on the platform and hauled up the
Teach Yourself to Drive
book and a street map of Blackbury.
    ‘On the word Go, the Starter Button party will give it a good press and – er – the Accelerator Pedal squad will press the pedal briefly,’ Rincemangle said uncertainly. ‘The gnomes working the clutch and gear lever will stand by. Go!’
    Of course, it didn’t work as simply as that. It took quite some time before the gnomes found out how to start up properly. But at last the engine was going, making the cab boom like a gong.
    ‘Headlights on! Clutch down! First gear! …’ Rincemangle shouted above the din. There were several ghastly crashes and the great lorry rolled forward.
    ‘Here, what about the garage doors?’ shouted Featherhead.
    The lorry rolled onwards. There was a loud bang and it was out in the street.
    ‘Turn left!’ shouted Rincemangle hoarsely. ‘Now straighten up!’
    For several minutes the cab was full of shouts and bangs as the gnomes pushed and pulled on the controls. The lorry wove from side to side and went up on the pavement several times, but at least it kept going. Rincemangle even felt bold enough to order a gear change.
    Through the dark streets of Blackbury the lorry swayed and rumbled, occasionally bouncing off lampposts. Every now and again there was a horrible clonk as it changed gear.
    Steering was the big difficulty. By the time the gnomes down below had heard Rincemangle’s order it was usually too late. It was a good job there were no other vehicles on the road at that time of night, or there would have been a very nasty accident.
    They blundered through the traffic lights and into Blackbury High Street, knocking a piece off a pillar box. Featherhead was staring into the great big mirror, high above them, that showed what traffic was behind.
    ‘There’s a car behind with a big blue flashing light on it,’ he said conversationally. ‘Listen! It’s making a siren noise.’
    ‘Very decorative, I’m sure,’ said Rincemangle, who wasn’t really listening. ‘Look lively down below! It’s a straight road out of town now, so change into top gear.’
    There was a thud and a crash, but the gnomes were getting experienced now and the lorry whizzed away, still weaving from side to side.
    ‘The car with the flashing lights keeps trying to overtake us,’ said Featherhead. ‘Gosh! We nearly hit it that time!’
    He craned up and had another look. ‘There’s two Human Beings in peaked caps inside it,’ he added. ‘Gosh! They look furious!’
    ‘I expect someone has got a little angry because of all those lampposts we knocked down. I don’t think we were supposed to,’ said Rincemangle. Unfortunately, while he said this, he didn’t look where they were going.
    *
    The lorry rumbled off the road and straight through a hedge. The field behind it was ploughed, and the gnomes had to hang on tightly as they were jolted around in the cab.
    The police car screeched to a halt and the two policemen started running across the field after them, shouting.
    The lorry went through another hedge and frightened a herd of cows.
    Rincemangle peered through the window. There was a wood ahead, and behind that the heather-clad slopes of Even Moor started climbing up towards the sky.
    ‘Prepare to abandon lorry!’ he shouted. They plunged into a wood and the lorry stopped dead in the middle of a bramble thicket. It was suddenly very quiet.
    Then there was a very busy five minutes as the gnomes unloaded their possessions from the back of the lorry. By the time the policemen arrived there was not a gnome to be seen. Rincemangle and Featherhead were sitting high up on a bramble branch and watched as the men wandered round the abandoned lorry, scratching