It had been six months since Duckworth had passed, and Scrooge had been through as many drivers in that time. At least Duckworth had understood the meaning of urgency. At least he had been willing to take a little risk.

Scrooge glowered at his newest driver from the backseat of his town car. "Milligan, if you don't get me to my meeting on time, you're fired."

"But Mr McDuck, the road rules! And I'll have to speed…" Scrooge was pretty sure his voice cracked. How old was this lad anyway?

"So take a shortcut. Shorter route, less speed. It's not bloomin' rocket science… Here! Take a right here! Now, Milligan!" Scrooge tapped his cane on the divider. He was going to miss the turn!

Miraculously, Milligan reacted instantly and threw a hard right. The front tyre jumped the curbing, the back end slewed out, and then came back under control.

"See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Milligan slammed on the brakes just as Scrooge saw the backpacker on the crosswalk ahead. The car jerked to a halt. Scrooge was reasonably sure he'd felt no impact, but the backpacker had disappeared, maybe dived to the ground. Not that that would stop him from trying to sue him. Great. Like he needed another lawsuit.

Milligan leapt out of the driver's seat and ran around the front of the car to help pick him up. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, sorry. I was just crossing the street."

Scrooge wound down the window and stuck his head out. The backpacker seemed unharmed. His duffel bag had spilled out what looked like a bunch of VHS tapes. And, most importantly, he wasn't yelling abuse and threatening to sue. "Milligan he's fine, now get back in the…"

Milligan spun around, his paws bunched into fists at his sides. "No, Mr McDuck. I'm done!"

"You wha…"

"I QUIT"

Not again. "You can't quit now! I need to get to my money bin. Do you have any idea how much money I could lose if I don't close this deal?"

"Better than losing my life! Or taking someone else's. I quit!" Milligan flung his chauffeur's cap back in through the open car door and stormed off.

Scrooge waved his cane out the window. "Damn it, Milligan. You'll never work in this town again." How was he supposed to… his gaze fell on the backpacker.

The lad was stuffing his VHS tapes back into his bag. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and it was probably a good thing the car hadn't struck him. The impact would have done as much damage to the vehicle as it would've done to him.

"Hey, you. The man with a death wish."

He straightened as he slung his duffel over his shoulder. "Huh? Me?"

"Yes, you. Can you drive?"

His jaw hung open, and Scrooge could almost imagine the cogs slowly turning. "Er…" he finally said, "technically, or legally?"

"I'll give you a dollar if you can get me to my office in time for my meeting. I've got to be there in five minutes, and it takes nearly ten to get across town. You make that up, you make a dollar."

The lad's face brightened. "Sure." He jumped into the driver's seat and tossed his duffel bag into the passenger's side. Then he picked up Milligan's hat and crammed it over his ruffled red hair. "Er…"

"Well, hurry up!"

"Hang on, it's one of the ones with the stick."

"You can drive a manual, right?"

"Let's find out!" He slammed the car into first. The sound of metal on metal screeched from the gearbox, and the engine spluttered. "Wait, extra pedal…" And then they roared forward.

Scrooge hadn't heard his town car make that noise since Duckworth had died. "Well, finally, someone with the right attitude."

"So, where's your office?"

"You don't know who I am?"

"Pft, no. You haven't introduced yourself! And, come to think of it, neither have I. I'm Launchpad McQuack!"

"I don't care who you are. I'm Scrooge McDuck, my money bin is the largest building dominating the skyline, and if you don't get me there in five minutes, you won't be getting a dollar."

"Come on, I said I'd do it, didn't I?"

"Not in first gear, you won't."

Launchpad wrestled with the gears to more grating, and the engine stopped revving so high as they surged forward.

"That's a bit better. I hope you're not riding that clutch."

"So, Mr McDee, what do you do?"

"McDuck. I make money. Stop talking and…"

"Five minutes, I know. Gee, you realise you're cutting this a bit fine?"

"I was on time until some idiot jumped out in front of my car!"

"Wow, some people have no road sense. Hang on. We're going to need to take a shortcut." Launchpad wrenched them around a corner, jumped over a curb, and cut across a park. Park-goers ran every which way, but quite frankly, Scrooge thought most of them looked like they needed the exercise. Launchpad burst out through some bushes on the opposite side. The money bin loomed before them. They'd cut off a whole winding loop of road that wound its way around the city's nod to greenery, which Scrooge simply considered a waste of space.

"Huh. You've got initiative, lad."

Launchpad's face brightened. "You mean that, Mr McDee? Aw, thanks. That's… really nice."

"Eyes on the road!"

Launchpad reefed his head back around and brought them back in their lane, narrowly avoiding an oncoming truck. The town car bottomed out as they slammed down the road leading to the money bin, and then Launchpad pulled them to a stop outside its very front door.

"How'd I do? Do I get a dollar?"

Scrooge glanced at his watch. Two minutes to spare. Launchpad had potentially saved him a great deal of money, but he still felt a tinge in his gut that, yes, he did technically owe him that dollar as Launchpad had fulfilled the obligation of the bet." Er… wait for me here, alright? I still need to get back home. But, yes, you've earned your dollar."

Technically, Scrooge had changed the verbal contact on him, but Launchpad just grinned. "Sure thing, Mr McDee."

Scrooge rushed up to his meeting and hoped the miraculously crazy enough driver he'd picked up didn't figure out the town car he'd been left in charge of was worth far more than a dollar.

Two hours later, they screeched back to the front of McDuck Manor to the smell of burnt rubber. Launchpad hadn't nicked off with the car. And he'd still been in irritatingly good spirits when Scrooge returned. The drive to the manor had been almost as reckless, and Scrooge had considered telling him he was no longer under time constraints. But the pace was such a welcome change from his previous six drivers, and so Scrooge left him to it.

Seriously, those guys were supposed to be professionals. But, instead, they'd all been scared of their own shadow and had cared more about the road rules than doing what the man who paid their wage told them.

"Here we are, Mr McDee!" Launchpad exclaimed happily.

Scrooge winced. Still, it was better than his other drivers' whining. "I suppose you want your dollar now."

"Oh, yeah. I mean, if it's not too much trouble. To be honest, I am completed out of cash. I've only just got back into town from travelling, and, I… I thought I'd stay with… but it looks like they moved. I mean, I was away for a really long time so I guess I couldn't really expect… Well, I need the money anyway. I need to pay for a room tonight."

Scrooge snorted. "In Duckburg? Lad, you are not going to get a room anyplace for a dollar."

Launchpad's face fell. "Oh…" Then he smiled. "Well, that's okay. Since I'm your driver now, you'll be playing me more dollars, right? Tonight, I'll just sleep in the car. If that's okay?"

"Sleep in my car?" Scrooge spluttered. "You can't… you realise this wasn't a permanent thing, right? I mean, you're not a professional driver, are you?"

Launchpad's shoulders slumped. "No. It's okay, I get it. I… I just thought I did a good job, and…"

Of course, he wasn't a professional driver. But every professional driver Scrooge had been sent had been useless. They certainly hadn't driven like Launchpad. He was the only one who'd got the job done.

"… and I know I'm not very good at these sort of things."

Launchpad's downcast look brought a faint tug to Scrooge's chest. "Lad, you did a great job," he found himself saying, and he wasn't sure why because he certainly didn't care about some backpacker off the street who probably expected to sleep on someone's sofa for free. But the lad had just helped him get a tonne of money to add to his money bin.

Launchpad chewed his lip. "Really?"

"I tell you what. Take my car back down to my garage. I'll show you where it is. You can stay there for the night. And, it'll only cost you a dollar. After that, I'll draw up a contract and…"

"You hired a homeless man to drive your car?!"

Scrooge rolled his eyes. "Beakly, calm down. He wasn't homeless. He was a backpacker."

"Then you left him, unattended, with your vehicle?"

"He did it for a dollar! And the best part is, I didn't even have to give it to him!"

"And… now he's sleeping in your garage." Beakly glared down at him, arms folded.

"One dollar!"

"Really?"

"Oh, fine. I felt bad for him, alright? He really wanted the job. And he can't be any worse than my previous drivers. It doesn't always pay to put your money on the professionals."

"Did you check any of his credentials?"

"Two million dollars more in my money bin, Beakly. That's credentials enough. Besides, I got my dollar back. I'm pretty sure I could tell him he could live in my garage, and he'd just work for me for free."

"You do realise, if you employ him, you are obligated to pay him minimum wage?"

Scrooge rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "I know."