Driving from Christchurch to Palmerston North was a long, long way. Even though he knew that Uncle Peter was sleeping in the rear seat, Glen somehow felt uneasy and insecure. Maybe because of this rain, he thought. Some people say they like rain, but he was definitely not that sort of person. Rain always got him down. Especially when it was dark, he would be caught by a strange emotion. It was similar to the emotion of the morning when he had to go to school, knowing that he would have to face bullies at school. Or it was similar to the emotion when he was thinking of breaking up with his girlfriends.

Glen had a quick look at the digital clock on the dash board. Half past three. Oh well oh well. Dropping into third gear, he yawned. I hate these corners, especially when it's this dark. The road was pretty winding for more than ten minutes, and it seemed to be continuing forever.

"What do you make of it so far, young man?" In the rearview mirror, Glen saw Uncle Peter rubbing his eyes.

"Not too bad, not too bad." He smiled at the mirror. "Don't worry, Uncle Peter. I'm not gonna fall asleep." In fact, to catch the ferry from Picton they had to wake up at half past two in the morning,- and they had been to bed at eleven after the party for them, going back to Palmerston North after three weeks break.

"I know, I trust you." He seemed to go back to sleep again, but after a second, he raised his head and said,

"Why don't you put some music on?"

"Now I know you don't trust me," Glen laughed and reached his left hand to his collection of cassette tapes.

Uncle Peter wasn't Glen's real uncle, he was just his father's good friend. Glen called him "Uncle Peter" because when he started to perceive things around him Uncle Peter had already existed as Uncle Peter.

It was very interesting to see Glen's father, Eric, getting along with Peter very well, for Eric was English, while Peter was Scottish.

"Oh, he's hopeless, he's a Scotsman, he eats porridge for tea."

Eric would say it fondly, and Peter would laugh and say;

"Huwhat? That's a wee bit insulting."

Glen has some idea that it was a rather crooked way of expressing their friendship, but back then Glen didn't understand why they were having such a conversation. It was after he studied about Britain at school.

"Dad," it was a Friday evening with fish and chips for dinner.

"Yesterday Mr.Bishop said that people in Scotland and people in England don't get along with very well."

"Can you pass me the tomato sauce please dear?… Thanks, oh, yes, Glen, if he says so that must be true."

"But Dad, what do you think about this? You are English. This is very important."

"Hmm, what do I think about this… Do you have to report this for your homework?" Relieved to see his son shaking his head, Eric continued.

"Well, here's one thing I can say," then he had a pose, wiped his mouth with kitchen paper, and squeezed his eyes as if he are thinking of some deep ideology behind the issue. Glen held his breath and waited for something deeply philosophical to be uttered from his mouth.

"Peter is a really good friend of mine."

Then Glen was disappointed and lost the will to bother suggesting controversial topic. He couldn't believe that a father could be so indifferent to his son's education. However, thinking of it later, he thought that it was a pretty good answer. It wraps up everything a father would otherwise say such as "This antagonism stems from…" or "The present political situation in England and Scotland is… " or "Leave racism for other people", or "Everyone is equal". YOU become friend of a person because YOU like HIM or HER. Eric Rodgers is Peter McHardy's friend because he is Peter McHardy. And they live in New Zealand longer than they did in Britain. Eric was 12 and Peter was 25 when they came to New Zealand.

Peter used to live in Glen's neighbourhood in Christchurch, but he shifted to Palmerston North after his wife passed away. Peter had two sisters in Palmerston North, and they wanted him to live around them. Glen was pretty disappointed then, but eventually it turned out good for him as he decided to go to the University in Palmerston North. And fortunately he found a flat just 10 minutes walk from Uncle Peter's place.

Glen enjoyed Uncle Peter's accompany so much - he would go to bars with him, have tea with him, and this time he drove down to Christchurch with him.

"Well, Uncle Peter," Glen was still fumbling around the tapes. "I'm not sure if I have any music that you would like."

"Oh, anything will do, except for your favourite electric chap."

Electric chap! Glen gasped. I don't know old people…

"You mean, Moby?"

"Whatever. But anyway my ears don't accept that kind of music you know."

So Glen showed one of the Bee Gees' tapes to him, swinging it with his left hand thumb and pointing finger.

"You know Bee Gees eh?"

"Of course. That's a good one."

After humming along with some of the songs, Peter said,

"Tell me whenever you want to swap. You shouldn't be too tired because you have school from tomorrow, and you have been driving all night."

"Yeah, I will. But I'm all right at the moment."

"You must be happy to go back to school."

"Why's that?"

"Oh, of course it because you're gonna see your girlfriend!"

It took 10 seconds till Glen opened his mouth again.

"In fact, I'm a bit worried about Irene. You know her Dad's fish and chips shop was vandalised while we are in Christchurch? She's feeling really down now. She's being depressed not only because the shop was destroyed but because of the fact that she still has to face racism even after she has lived in New Zealand over 10 years."

"That's really terrible isn't it… Chinese people are successful so some people envy them…I love David's fish and chips. It's not as oily as others are. I hope something will work out for them."

Yeah, I hope so, too. Glen murmured. He had no idea what would happen tomorrow. He didn't know what to say to Irene as her Kiwi boyfriend. Where I come from, where she comes from, that doesn't matter for me. I love her because she's Irene Huan. But with this situation it might sound hypocritical. How can I put this into good words? I'm so angry with those idiots? Honey, I'm not a racist? Don't worry, let it be? Look, everyone loves you? Damn, he sighed. What if she wanted to break up with this Kiwi guy? What if she says that she wants to leave the city? What if, what if, what if?? Oh I hate the future. I have no control over it but it's still coming.

The tires made a steamlikesound gliding on a wet road. It was still a long way to Palmerston North, but Glen knew that the time to arrive there would definitely have to come.