A couple of hours later, they head out to the Pink Bantha in a speeder that Qui-Gon has acquired from somewhere. The steering's not very good and it makes a horrible whining noise when it goes higher than third gear, but, as Shmi says optimistically, it's better than walking. Five people crammed into a cockpit made for two is rather a squash, particularly when one is a panicky Gungan and another a malfunctioning droid. Threepio's locomotion chip also seems to be on the blink, which results in him making rude gestures uncontrollably and waving his arms about whenever they try and go round a corner.

'Turn left at the space port, Qui-Gon.'

'Threepio, sit down, I can't see if you do that... sorry, what?'

'Turn left, I said! That was not left!'

'Alright, calm down – ack! Who put that wall there?'

They narrowly avoid ploughing into the side of a house as Qui-Gon hauls on the steering column and they swerve past a Dug on a sand-bike, who swears at them and shakes his fist as he crashes into a fruit stall. Jar Jar covers his eyes.

'Meeser gettin very scared! Yousa driving too fast!' he wails, grabbing onto the back of the driving seat. Qui-Gon rolls his eyes.

'Jar Jar, relax,' he intones with a Force suggestion. Jar Jar abruptly slumps sideways onto Shmi's lap and Qui-Gon grins ruefully.

'Whoops. Think I overdid that a bit.'

'Master, anything that makes him shut up can't be too bad. And can you please drive a bit slower?'

A couple of blocks later they get caught in a traffic jam by the bazaar, which seems to be the result of a three-way collision between a Bantha, a speeder and a large pile of dung.

'Remind me again why we came to Tatooine for a holiday, Master?' Obi-Wan remarks snidely.

'You'll see, my young apprentice. You'll see. Traffic jams are all part of the fun.'

'Make my day, punk!' Threepio screams at a passing Jawa, who looks up at him with reproachful yellow eyes and scuttles out the way. Obi-Wan sighs.

'Why did you have to reactivate him? This is getting embarrassing.'

'Yes, I see what you mean... dammit! You distracted me and now I've forgotten where we're going.'

'For heaven's sake, Master, let me drive, will you? You're hopeless!'

'I am not hopeless – oh bugger, I've missed the turning, haven't I? Hang on, I'll try and reverse.'

'Are you insane? You can't reverse in the middle of the freeway!'

'Oh yeah? Watch this.'

Qui-Gon hauls on the gear stick, attempting to wrestle it into reverse. Instead it gets jammed in fourth gear, making a hideous squealing noise, and they barrel down the road like a misfired blaster bolt. Qui-Gon swears and slams the brake lever down, but they don't stop in time and end up colliding with a refuse heap at the back of a bar. The speeder crashes into the wall, flips over and dumps them all out in an ungainly sprawl, before coming to rest upside down in the sand, the engine coughing feebly.

Two passing Wookies stop and regard the scene bemusedly. One shrugs and turns to the other.

'Ur urrr ur ur urrurhh. Urur urrrh urh.'

[Translation: See, Dave, what did I tell you? Humans can't drive worth shit.]

The other nods vigorously and they continue on their way.

'OK, I take it back. That was not better than walking,' says Shmi's disgruntled voice from under a heap of rubbish bags. Qui-Gon groans and sits up, his hair festooned with rotten salad.

'Don't blame me! I didn't know that speeder was so clapped-out... ouch, is this my leg?'

'Oi! No it isn't your leg, it's mine, and I don't appreciate you doing that to it!'

'Sorry, Obi. Where's Jar Jar?'

'Meeser down here. Ooh, this smell like bath house in Gunga City!'

'Yes, thank you for that profound observation about our delightful surroundings. Alright, Threepio?'

'Suck my fat one,' a metallic voice announces from somewhere in the pile. Shmi snorts.

'He's fine, more's the pity. Can someone help me out of here? My arm's stuck in something.'

After much to-ing and fro-ing and several obscenities from Threepio, the bedraggled and rather smelly group manage to dig themselves out, only to come face to face with a Tatooine policeman and a small crowd of onlookers. Obi-Wan shuts his eyes in horror.

'Alright, who's responsible for this?' the cop says resignedly.

'Er... that would be me,' Qui-Gon admits, picking bits of lettuce out of his hair.

'What happened?'

'The gear shaft got jammed and I lost control of the speeder. Sorry about the mess.'

'Several witnesses saw your vehicle performing an illegal manoeuvre on the freeway about ten minutes ago. You were speeding,' the cop says accusingly. Qui-Gon shrugs.

'Look, I'm on Jedi Council business, OK?'

'We weren't expecting any Jedi here for at least another week or two. Are you the guy they sent to deal with the Hutt gambling ring?'

Qui-Gon hesitates a moment, then nods.

'Master, what the hell are you doing?' Obi-Wan whispers. Qui-Gon elbows him.

'Shut up, I'll handle this... sorry, yes, that's me. Hutt mission. Absolutely.'

'Hmm. And what's the Gungan and the woman doing with you?'

'Meeser? Meeser didn't do nothing!'

'Um... they're our informants...' Qui-Gon says uncertainly, kicking Jar Jar in the shins before he starts blathering and blows his cover. The cop snorts.

'Yeah, right. I'm not convinced, but I suppose I'll tell the Council you've arrived. I'm pretty sure you weren't meant to be coming until the end of the month...'

'Change of plan,' Qui-Gon interjects quickly. 'We were in the system and my duty got switched. I'll come and sign in at your headquarters tomorrow, but right now I really need to go to this bar and, er, gather information. Again, I apologise for the illegal reversing, but it was unavoidable.'

'Right. I should fine you, but I'd probably get in trouble with the Council if I did that. I'll let you off this time, but if I catch you again you're getting a caution, Jedi or no Jedi.'

The cop turns away, beginning to move the crowd on. Threepio lurches to his feet and staggers over to the cop, stabbing him in the back with a metal finger.

'Up yours, you pot-bellied scumbag bastard!' he exclaims. Qui-Gon gulps as the cop turns back.

'Is this your droid?'

'Yes. He's, uh, malfunctioning a bit.'

'I can see that! You'd better get him fixed before I arrest him for causing a breach of the peace!'

'Will do. I'm very sorry about that, by the way. Threepio, get back here and stop hassling him!'

'Swivel on it – '

Threepio's voice thankfully goes dead as Obi-Wan hurriedly deactivates him. The cop sighs and shakes his head, walking away. Obi-Wan rounds furiously on Qui-Gon.

'Master, what are you playing at? You know that's not our assignment!'

'OK, so I lied to him. What was I supposed to say? "No, we're not working, we're here for kicks and I crashed a speeder out of gross negligence" – sure, that'd look just great on my record.'

'Your record's shot to hell as it is!'

'Yes, thank you, Padawan, I am aware of that. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but if I don't get a drink soon I think my head may fall off.'

'Moy moy, I think meeser head already fallen off,' Jar Jar says plaintively.

'Don't worry, Jar Jar, you won't miss it much. Obi-Wan, you owe me money, so you're buying the first round,' Qui-Gon announces, heaving the inert Threepio up onto his back and heading for the door of the bar. Shmi hurries after him.

'Ah, not so fast. While we're on the topic, I seem to remember that you owe me money...'

'Do I?'

'For that time you broke the shower last year and I had to borrow money off Watto to get it fixed?'

'What time I broke the shower – oh. Yes. That time. Funnily enough, I didn't see you complaining when it happened...'

'I can't believe I'm hearing this,' Obi-Wan remarks loftily. 'You're violating the Code and you're proud of it. Disgusting.'

Qui-Gon sighs. Just his luck to get lumbered with the only Padawan to misread the 'no-intimate-relations' clause in the Jedi Code and stubbornly refuse to admit his error. Actually all it said was no intimate relations with fellow Jedi, but Obi-Wan, in his usual overzealous way, took it to mean no intimate relations ever. It's a wonder he hasn't gone crazy yet. Bring on the Twi'lek dancers...

'What's that look for?' Shmi asks suspiciously. 'What are you thinking about?'

'Hmm? Oh. Twi'leks,' Qui-Gon answers distractedly before he can stop himself. Shmi glares at him.

'Charming. I really don't know what I see in you, Qui-Gon Jinn,' she mutters.

'Hey! I was thinking about them because of my mission involving Obi-Wan, actually – '

'Oh, sure you were. Nothing to do with the fact that they're all fabulously attractive and wear very skimpy clothing, of course not.'

'Huh,' Qui-Gon grumbles, 'I'm starting to think Obi was right – women are a damn nuisance... twisting my words, making me sound stupid, I don't know...'

Shmi starts to stalk off in disgust, but he catches her round the waist and pulls her against him.

'I was only kidding, you silly bint,' he says fondly. 'Besides, Twi'leks aren't all they're cracked up to be. They're damn frigid until you get them trolleyed, and those head-tentacle things they wear are quite frankly creepy. Now come on, stop being so bloody hormonal and I'll buy you a drink.'