The learning curve on the damn bike was never ending.  Whenever I thought I had it right, someone would come along with a better idea.  Back I would go to my very primitive shop to try to duplicate it with my insufficient tools.  Some of the time I succeeded most of the time I didn't.  

After a winter of tinkering I thought I had the bike ready to go.  When I say bike, I mean Bike.  I didn't own a motorcycle, sure I had as a kid but not at the time of the Great Adventure.  At that time I owned a regular bike.  One bought from Craig's list.  Twenty-five bucks for a light weight Schwinn girls bike.  Okay when a guy like me rides it, we tend to call it a step through frame.  Whatever you call it, the bike was worn out when I got it but I didn't care.  I liked the size and look of it.

Living alone in a big old house gave me the time and room to work on the bike.  I hadn't ridden a bicycle in 40+ years on the day I bought it.  I didn't even know if I could.  I was determined to relearn the long lost ability.  By the way, regardless of what they say, you do forget how to ride a bike.  You are a little braver maybe, when you relearn, but that's about all.

A month after buying it, I felt better about myself and had lost a few pounds.  The bike trails were an interesting ride, but way too challenging for an old man.  Still it was a fun adventure riding through the parks and down the winding creeks.  The flats and downhill runs were a blast the climbs were a challenge.  Sometimes I won but mostly they won.

In desperation I began to look for help with hill climbing.  I almost went to a geared bike, but I didn't think that with my old brain I could pick up gear changing at least not 21 times.   I experimented with electric bikes then ended up with a gasoline engine on the Sissy Schwinn as I had begun to call it.

I bought the engine because it was a do it yourself project and cheap.  I quickly found myself in over my head.  Yes I could bolt it up but the directions for assembly of the smaller parts were just awful.  In the end I screwed it up.  I had to beg a small engine mechanic to teach me how to undo the damage I had done.  The help was worth twice the price of the engine, because I learned how to fix it the next time.  If he had charged me, I would have paid it gladly but he didn't.  He took pity on me since I am old and retired.

"Hell Mike, all I did was tell you what to do, you did the work."

"Yeah but till you told me I had no idea what to do.  I would never have gotten it going otherwise."

"Well hell us old farts have to stick together.  Besides like I said, "Weren't no skin off my nose.  Now hand me that torque wrench over there."  

I handed over the wrench willingly.  I would be his tool boy for a week if that was the charge but it wasn't of course.  I left the dirty, smelly shop after a few more minutes of 'thank you' time.  I drove the car home for one of the last times that morning.  It wouldn't be much longer until the insurance ran out and the tags came due.  I had sworn that I would not renew either.  It was going to be bike or starve for me.  

Why not, I could pay all my bills either online or through the mail.  Everything I needed was within five miles of my house.  If I went ten miles in any direction I was out of town, so why not cut out the expense of the car.  If I needed something I couldn't carry on the bike, what were kids for.   Well in my case one step kid and her husband would have to do.  

I did make one concession to the fragility of the bike, I rebuilt an electric version with two 250 watt motors.  The range was small but in a push I could get to the donut shop.  That bike was slower, had less range, but really was more dependable.  As long as the batteries were charged it would go.  There were no electronics to screw up just a simple on off switch.

I was practicing my future life without an autombile that afternoon.  I was at the lake with a couple of antigue cameras making pictures of the fishermen who lined the banks.  They chose the banks at the marina not because the fishing was better but because one could drive up to the spot.  Nature within reach of a modern bathroom seemed to be the way to go.

It was sometime that afternoon while looking at the world upside down on a bit of ground glass that it came to me.  If you want to see life one last time, you have to slow down and get out of the metal box.   Yeah I know, I had already made the bike decission or I never would have thought that way.  I chose the bike for other reasons but I was beginning to see other posibilities.

The thought of seeing the world at a slower speed kept running around in my mind.  I finished shooting the film in the holders, then carefully packed the camera away.  The hard leather case went into the metal basket which was tied to the homemade pvc bike trailer.  The trailer had been made for my ebike's batteries.  It was easy to convert with nothing more than a metal basket attached with a bungee cord.  

During the four mile drive home, I started the math.  If I could average 15 miles per hour, I could do about 100 miles in a day.  "Hold on," I said to myself.  "You are going about this all wrong.  Forget how far you can go in a day and thing where you can go next in a day.  If it's ten miles or a hundred, go place to place not just run till you are out of daylight.  It was another 'oh yeah' moment.

When I arrived home I spent the evening with my attention split between developing film and thinking about the roadtrip. It's how I had come to see the fantasy and that's all I expected it to be.  I had no idea that I could ever pull it off.

With the film hanging to dry, it was time to think about dinner.  There was plenty of cans on the porch and plenty of things in the freezer but I chose to go out to dinner.  I might as well test the limits of the bike, I thought.  I gave some thought to the drive through at one of the burger in a bag places, but decided to test the limits with a little smaller first step.

The bike started after a few pedals in my driveway.  I lived almost downtown so traffic on the road by my house was an issue.  I liked to know the bike was running before I pulled out.  I always waited until there were no cars in sight in either direction but still one never knew.

I angled the bike to what amounted to a left turn but was more oblique than a turn.  The five or six block ride to the restaurant was anticlimactic. I had to make sure I could make safe lane changes since I was traveling slower than the other traffic but it wasn't a real issue.  I just had to take my time and roll with the punches.

When I pulled up near the door to park, I removed a rather large chain from the small leather box on the front of my bike.  I ran it through the front wheel and then through the frame.  The chain and lock weren't much of a deterrent for a man with a pickup truck, but they would probably work for a kid walking by.  Parking it in as busy a spot as possible, I hoped would make a thief thing twice.  He sure as hell wasn't going to roll it away.

Inside the restaurant I was able to sit at the front window.  I could keep an eye on the bike while I ate my meat loaf special.  I pointed the bike out to the waitress.  I know it was silly but I was always proud of my bikes.  Even though they were all bruised and rusty.

After dinner I just reversed everything and found myself home again.  I pushed, pulled, and lifted the bike into my storage room.  It would rest there through the night.  I stopped in the kitchen just long enough to make a glass of diet coke before climbing the stairs to my den.  On my way to the upstairs den, I walked right by the TV.  Since it wasn't time for the evening news, the TV was of no use to me.  

I checked my email, then started my research.  The idea of the bike trip had been nagging at my brain.  I had some distant memory of having read a story but I could for the life of me find it.  Even the internet with all its vast amounts of useless information couldn't help me pull it up.

There were lots of monumental decisions to make even more minor ones.  If I could swing the great American road trip, and that was a huge if, what would I do about my everyday life.  What would I carry, what would I leave behind, what the hell would I do for money.

"One problem at a time first take a small trip," I told myself.  "Do it for one week. then you will have a better idea of what you need to have with you on the road."

So I dropped the grand plan for a while and went with the one week plan.  I figured the first thing I would need for the trip was money and the access to more.  I did not particularly want to carry cash.  The little bike would attract attention I knew, but it didn't scream money like a new Harley would.  People would most likely think I was an old drunk.  That was especially true with the way I dressed.  My step daughter called it modern derelict style.  she swore that I could pass as a homeless man any day.

Still I didn't want to carry a lot of cash on me.  ATMs for cash and one credit card for everything else was the answer.   I had already solved one problem since I had an atm card and it was also a credit card.  But where to carry it.  If some young thug with a knife said give me your wallet, I didn't want to think about it and get killed for the delay.  I had for years carried twenty bucks in my wallet, and the rest of my money in a piece of antique leather in my pocket.  It was held together with a bit of bike inner tube.  I didn't see any reason it wouldn't work for a credit card as well.

Since things tend to get lost in my soft brain, I went to the shop/lab and looked for an old camera case from which to cut a bit of leather.  I found one from the early 1900s.  Nobody would ever appreciate my collection of old cameras and junk anyway.  I used a utility knife to make a rough cut along the seams.   The leather formed a nice little case for the credit card, my drivers license, and social security card.  I wrapped my cash around it and then secured it with that bit of inner tube.

At that point the wallet was a complete throwaway.  It held nothing of value.  "Give it up old man," would get a leather envelope with twenty bucks cash and a whole bunch of things that looked like credit cards but weren't.  Expired and useless phone cards filled the decoy wallet.  Plan ahead was my motto.  Expect the unexpected and you just might survive till tomorrow.

The money on the road thing looked doable.  Next thought I had was what could and should I pack in the trailer.  I had built myself several trailers looking for the best one.  None of them proved to be head and shoulders about the rest so it was a toss up as to which one I would use..  I did know one thing for a fact, the more I packed, the heavier the load, the worse the performance of the bike would be.  It was my guess that the bike would be only marginally up to the task anyway.

If I went from motel to motel and ate at diners along the way, I would need to pack very little.  I would also be broke after about ten days.  I knew I had a lot of planning to do.  It would require a lot of compromises to make the road trip work.  I didn't want it to be an anything goes vacation kind of trip, but one I could sustain should I want to do it at any time.

My first thought was that  I could push or pedal the bike to a safe place if worse came to absolute worse.  I would need to be able to either fix it or have someone come get me.  If I was in a safe place I could wait till my step daughter or my son in law could drive to pick me up.  Or maybe I could just have a taxi drive me to the bus station if the bike was toast.  For any of that I needed a cell phone.

Yes I am the only American rich or poor who does not own a cell phone.  Dear God, I thought, I am going to have to waste the evening looking up cell phones on the net.  Anything I ever tried to buy on the net became a nightmare of decision making.  There were far too many choices to make about anything.

Almost immediately I was asked, Do you want a lower priced per minute contract service or a pay as you go service.  I had to research that before I could even consider telephones.  So I spend two hours with google running from site to site.  I had narrowed it down to a couple of plans then gave up for the evening.

Sometime you just get lucky.  Some days things just come together.  The right information falls into your lap at the right time.  The right time being when you need it and as important when you are informed enough to know that it is the right information.  When I woke up, I started the coffee then went out for the morning paper.  I found that the weather was warm even at 7am.  It looked as though springtime had arrived in the south.

In the morning paper I found an advertisement for one of those prepaid cell phone companies.  One that only dealt in prepaid.  I had decided from the night before's research to stay away from tradition companies who had an add on prepaid service.  Their plans looked a lot more complicated.  They were most likely trying to encourage the customers to move to a contact service.  No doubt the contract service would be more profitable in my case at least.

The add was for the phone through a major discount superstore.  I could buy the phone for 13 bucks.  It came with double minutes for as long as I owned the phone.  Most likely I would never use them up, since they would rollover as long as I kept buying more minutes.  I had decided that I would never answer the phone just make outgoing calls.  As a matter of fact it was my plan to not even turn it on till I needed to call someone.

When the store opened, I rode the bike to it.  I purchased the phone and one of the new AA battery chargers for it.  The two together would fit in the palm of one hand.  The phone gave me a sense of security that would most likely be worth the price.

With the phone situation resolved, I stopped for lunch.  It wasn't at a restaurant that time.  I stopped at a grocery store Deli.  From it I bought a tuna salad sandwich and their smallest container of cole slaw.  Both items and a can of diet coke found their way into the leather case on the front of my bike.  

The drive to the park would have taken probably fifteen minutes in my car.  On the bike it took almost twice that.  I didn't mind since it was a warm spring day.  It was just chilly enough for the bomber jacket.  I hated that the bomber jacket wasn't original, but I think I would have had to pay much more than the bike had cost me to get an authentic one.  It was all just part of an illusion anyway.  I thought to myself even then that it was a good thing I realized it.

Lunch at the park was something I hadn't done nearly often enough, I decided.  Sitting on the park bench near the parking lot looking back at the bike was kind of entertaining.  I got to watch people stop and look her over.  Everything from small children to old men stopped to take a look.  I drew the line when they started to touch things.  I stood several times to go put a stop to it, but always the people seemed to know they had gone to far and stopped without being told.  

I sat looking out at the city reservoir and thinking I should have brought a camera.  To bring one of the truly retro cameras, I would almost have need a trailer.  I had some really large ones for sure.  Still there was the smaller one.  I had a Russian knock off of the famous leica world war two vintage camera.  Now that would have been something.  Classic America bicycle, Chinese engine, and Russian camera,  I suppose that would make the true man without a country.  At least not a country preference in things, only in ideas.

I got home around three and turned my thoughts to a tool kit to take along.  In order to do that I needed to decide what I could or would fix on the road and what I would not.  Tires and tubes definitely a yes on that.  Would I fix broken spokes and control levers of course.  I could adjust the carburetor without too much trouble.  Replace the spark plug and plug wire, that wouldn't be a real problem either.  Re tighten the bolts and mounts would have to be done for sure sometime during the trip.

Things I would not do were pretty daunting repairs.  Fix a broken piston, rod or clutch, no way I would tackle that on the road.  So the list of tools took care of itself all but making and assembling them.  I started that afternoon.  I rode the bike to the auto parts store five blocks from my house.  I bought a very inexpensive set of metric wrenches.

At home I cut the large ones in half.  I kept the box end half and put the open end half in an old peanut butter jar.  I added a screw driver with changeable blades, the original spark plug wrench from the kit, a small pair of wire cutters, a small vise grip tool, my chain break tool, and a few links of both the motor and bike chains.  The large plastic peanut butter jar was full but the top still screwed down.  

I know that sounds like a ten minute job however it actually took all afternoon.  Well, all that was left after my leisurely lunch at the park.  I spent the evening playing with  my computer.  That began another chain of thought.  What would I do about my email and the forum which I used to answer all my bike questions.  I had to have at least some access even if it wasn't instant access.  It looked as though it was back to the web for me.

I researched it all evening and the best I could come up with was a simple inexpensive laptop with a wifi card.  I could prowl around small towns looking until I found a hot spot, then just piggy back on their signal.  I had a list of obvious places that might have an unencrypted wifi.  Not to mention about any upper class neighborhood with cable connections.  Many of those would have small parks within signal reach.   I would never have thought of that.

My list of take alongs was beginning to grow.  I knew that before I made the final decision I would need to cut it down.  There would be neither space nor pull capacity for a complete set of spare parts.  At some point I would have to declare the bike toast and walk away.  It was the point of building frankenbikes.  They were disposable.

Still for it to leave me stranded was not my plan at all.  So I had to decide what repairs I would make on the road and to prepare for them.  That meant some spare parts as well as my tool kit.

So inner tubes but not tires went into the box.  The odds were far greater that I would have tube problem rather than tires go bad.  All my tubes had slime in them so I was still not likely to have a problem, but I liked the idea of being ready.  If you carry tubes you need tire levers so they went into the tool jar as well.

I had a spark plug wrench so I tossed a spare plug into the box as well.  Since the plug wire was so fragile I added one of those to the pile.  I decided to add a generic cable to the parts pile.  I had no idea that one would break but you just never know.  Since I had a cable, I put in a pair of cable cutters which also cut wire.  Electrical tape would be a must of course.  It appeared as though I had thought of all the small repairs I could make on the road and was pretty much prepared to do so.

Since the weekend was coming I decided that it might be a good time to do a rehearsal for the trip.  I had all the repair gear and tools packed onto the bike trailer.   The metal basket part of the trailer wasn't nearly full so I turned my attention to camping out.  Some campgrounds had electricity but I preferred to make my plans as if they did not.

I decided that there would probably be two kinds of camps I had to prepare for.  One the quick over night camp out while I was on the move, and the other when for one reason or another I decided to stay a while.  Each would most likely require its own plan.  

Even just an overnight camping spot would require some serious thought because I would be there longer than just sleeping.  I couldn't possibly stay on the bike all my waking hours.  I would most likely start early and go for eight or so hours.  Anyway you cut it that would leave me 16 hours to fill.  Most likely ten or more of those were going to be in the camp space.

Even if I ate dinner before I pulled into the campground I would be hungry before bedtime.  Then there was coffee and breakfast.  If I make coffee I have to have a heat source.  Almost all camp spaces have a fire pit. a few have fire wood for same, most don't.  Even those that do charge way too much.  Charcoal was a better deal but it also had it's problems.  Five pounds of charcoal take up a lot of room end it weighs five pounds.  There was almost always a store outside the campground if not inside that sold over priced charcoal. 

Those same stores sold limited and way over priced food items.  Even so it was less expensive than eating out.  The best alternative was to shop in a supermarket before going to the campground.  I planned to buy food items that wouldn't spoil then repackage the left overs to carry the next day.  It meant probably eating the same food possible for dinner and breakfast the next morning but I expected that I could survive it. I needed to have room in the trailer for buying a couple of meals and some charcoal before I arrived at the campground.  

Without a doubt I needed to carry shelter and sleeping material.  I had absolutely no plan to camp or travel in freezing weather so lightweight material was not only possible, it was necessary. The rain plan was a lot like the bike repair plan.  If it rained, find someplace indoors to hang out or check into a motel.  Some things just weren't reasonable to expect of myself.  With that in mind a simple tarp of rip stop nylon was good enough for a lean to type shelter as well as a bike rain cover.   Six plastic tent stakes were cheap, light wight, and didn't take up much room so they went into the trailer as well.  I figured twelve feet of white nylon cord would be enough to hold the tarp to the ground. The size of the tarp gave me a few minutes thought.  I didn't want it any larger than I needed, not did I want to skimp on it.  I decided on an eight foot by ten foot size.  I figured if I needed a larger one I was doing something wrong.

I chose a 30 degree sleeping bag.  I bought a wide rectangular one.  I could always add a thin blanket inside for cold nights or use the blanket alone on really warm nights.  Both could be rolled small and weighed very little so were ideal for my purpose.  

For cooking I chose a deep frying pan about a foot across.  I cut the handle down so that it would pack better.  It would most likely be harder to handle but it seemed a fair compromise.  I left  a couple of inched of the handle into which I drilled a quarter inch hole.   I could always slip a screw driver in the hole if I needed it.   I also added a coffee pot with no works.  I suppose it was actually a metal tea pot more than a coffee pot.  With it I could boil water or cook soup and the like.  It was small enough to fit nicely into my kit.

I had my list for the next days shopping.  When I finished printing it out, I noticed that I had worked past my usual bedtime.  The planning was good therapy for me. I slept like the dead.

I spent the week making more plans for the weekend test of the road trip plan.  Even though the big plan was made there were lots of small plans to make.  One of my last minute purchases was a large, good quality pocket knife. No I opted out of the Swiss Army knife craze and went for a standard one blade stainless steel tool.  I expected that it would get plenty of use.

Since conceiving of the road trip, I had been saving plastic utensils from the fast food stores.  I especially liked the little pack with a knife fork and napkin.  They were small enough to cram inside other things yet those and my pocket knife promised to be more than enough for the trip.

After I packed the trailer I realized that I would have almost no room to add anything at all.  It changed my plans slightly.  I most likely would not be stopping on the way in for groceries.  I thought then that I could unpack the campsite, then run out for food.  Not unpack totally just the bulky items.

I was like a kid waiting for Christmas all week.  When Friday morning came I was completely packed and anxious to start.  I had chosen a municipal campground about 25 miles east of my hometown.  I didn't need reservations so early in the season I was told when I called ahead.  Since the park didn't allow power boating there wouldn't be too many fishermen I was assured.  Recreational campers would be competition for the limited number of spaces later in the season but so early on it was just the fishermen.

Friday morning I ran the bike down the drive to start it, then I warmed it up for several minutes.  It was better to hook the trailer up after the bike was warmed up.  If I had to restart the bike later, while pulling the trailer, it would be easier with the warmed up engine.  

I pedaled the bike with strong strokes then dropped the clutch.  The engine caught and rattled to life.  The cheap Chinese engine was like an old mechanical big ben alarm clock.  It would run most of the time but it sure as hell didn't hum.  I let it warm up for several seconds before killing the choke.  I locked the clutch with a bit of inner tube before I pushed it in place for the trailer.  I could easily lift the loaded trailer, even so I manoeuvered the bike to the right spot for the bolt up.  The house was locked and everything turned off when I ran my check list.

1.Gas tank full- extra quart in the trailer.  Extra one ounce bottles of 2cycle oil.  Those I had placed into disposable prescription bottles purchases from the local drugstore.  The extra quart bottle of gasoline I could refill and then drop in one of the pre measured ounces of oil.  It seemed to be an easy way to replenish my gas on the road.  Not that I expected to need it on that trip.  Nonetheless to be a real test everything had to be the same.
2. Camping gear and my two cooking utensils were all in place.
3. Bike tools in the extra large plastic peanut butter jar were all accounted for
4. Spare parts in place.

Looking back at the trailer I realized it wasn't running over as I had expected.  I had managed to keep the load fairly sparce. I could likely have fitted in some grocery items if I had planned a little better.  Since I wasn't sure how it would pull over a long haul, I had likely done the best thing by packing light.

I left the house on what I expected to be an under three hour ride around 9 A.M.  Getting from my house to the back road leading to the neighboring town wasn't easy.  It was a busy traffic time of the day, so I went through a lot of neighborhoods to avoid the commuter routes.  

For the first twenty minutes I was obsessed with the trailer and how it was doing.  I had tested it with similar weight, but never exactly the same configuration.  It seemed to pull well enough.  It was the long haul aspect that concerned me.  A bike trailer has to be light weight so everything was subject to weight, strength, and cost compromises.  It wasn't giving me any problems so it slipped from my mind shortly after I hit the open road.

I kept my mind on the drive and avoided letting it wander too much.  I desperately wanted to take off the soup pot I wore on my head.  State law required me to wear a helmet, but I resented it deeply.  Some insurance company paid some politician to vote for the helmet law.  Still the vegetable thing didn't appeal to me either, so I would have worn some kind of helmet probably but not the one I had on.  It was just too much helmet for a motor biker doing twenty miles an hour top end.

My average speed was more like fifteen miles per hour.  I was in no hurry and personally didn't feel the bike I had built was stable enough for the thirty it was capable of doing.  Maybe on a bigger heavier frame it would have been safe but not on my little light weight frame.

The ride started with good weather and a good attitude as well.  I was off to find adventure, I told myself.  I wasn't sure I could find much adventure on a twenty-five mile ride. but what the hell I thought.  

One thing about the bike that I really liked was the attention it got.  It would start most conversations for me.  That morning it came at a traffic light on the way out of town.  The woman's voice came over the chattering of her two kids.

"You taking a trip?"  She asked it because of the trailer most likely.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Where you headed?" she asked as she pushed a clinging child away.  She didn't push the little girl angrily just to get her back in her car seat.

"Just over to Gibsonville.  I'm really just testing the bike before I take off for places unknown,"  I smiled at her.

"Jeeze that would be great, just to take off like that."

"Sure all you have to do is wait till you are old enough to retire.  Of course, by then a lot of the things that seem fun to you now won't be doable at all."  I said it with a chuckle.

"Oh you look like you could still do most things."

"Now I'm gonna' take that as the best compliment I have had in years."  I smiled over at her just as the light changed.  I waited for her to pull ahead before I started down the road.  It didn't take long till she was out of sight ahead of me.  It made me smile as I thought of her for several more minutes.  I hoped she felt a little envy for the old man on the motor bike riding off to adventure like Don Quixote.

I came back to reality when I hit a pot hole and almost wound up on my ass.  I stopped dividing my attention right then.  I did look off to the side often to see what I was passing.  After about an hour I was well out of town traveling down a country road with flat curves.  It didn't matter I was in no hurry.  

When I pulled through one of those curves, I noticed the auto junk yard on my left.  On a complete unthought out impulse I pulled into the drive.  The office of the junk yard was an old travel trailer.  A greasy man I assumed to be the owner stood in the yard cleaning a car part.

"Morning," I said as the bike's rattle stopped.

"What the hell is that?" he asked looking at the bike.

"Why it's a motorized bike," I replied.

"Jeeze, what kind of milage do you get on that toy?"

"Bout a hundred miles to the gallon."

"Damn that thing is cute."  When he said it, cute came out an insult.

"Well it works for me."  I took a breath then changed the subject.  "Would you mind if I walked through you yard and made some pictures."

"You ain't workin' for the county are you?"

"No just an old man who like to make pictures now and then," I replied.

"County wants me to clean the place up."  he said it shaking his head as if bewildered.  "Go ahead and be careful place like this can be dangerous."

"Ain't got no bad dogs do you?"  I said it thinking of those junkyard dog cliches.

"Dog's asleep in the  office.  He don't sleep much at night."  I felt as though I had just been warned not to come back at night to do my shopping after hours.

I walked through the yard for almost an hour.  I shot a couple of rolls of film.  Oh yes I still took my pictures on film.  When I finished the second roll, I returned to the gravel parking lot.  I said my goodbye, then I added just a little choke to the engine and pedaled like hell.  When I dropped the clutch the bike rattled into life.  I was back on the road by 10am.

The ride was filled with sights and smells I had completely forgotten while living in the city.  There was a chill in the air but not a bad one.  I knew by early afternoon, the coat I wore would be tied to the top of the tailer.  Actually by early afternoon I would most likely be in the campground.  

I had arranged the time to arrive at the campsite around noon.  It was my plan to empty the trailer on my campsite, then go to lunch.  While at lunch, I would purchase the food for dinner and the next day's breakfast.  What time to head home the next day, I had left hanging.  I didn't know or care what I would do.  I planned to just let the weekend unfold as fate wished it to do.

The overweight balding ranger explained the park rules, most of which I was incapable of breaking, then took my money.  Since I was in the really primitive area, the fee was only $7.  I handed over the credit card.  The ranger assured me that if I followed his directions to the site, it would be easy to find.

Even while following his detailed directions I took a wrong turn.  It wasn't a big deal, I got to tour the section dedicated to the motor homes first then I wandered into the cabin rentals.  One could truly enjoy the park on just about any level.

When I got to my site, I discovered that I had the worst view of the lake.  The cabins were on a little hill so they had the best view.  After that the RV spaces with their concrete pads had the best view, followed closely by the improved camp spaces.  The primitive spaces were indeed primitive.

The primitive campground had a frame building with showers and toilets.  There was water available outside the bath house.  Other than that the space had no more than a parking space cut out of the woods and a trail leading to a small clearing and tent pad.  The tent pad was an elevated dirt platform some 8 inches above the forest floor.  I suppose the elevation was some protection from water running into the tent as it ran off the sites over all incline.

I was able to pull the bike and trailer down the path and into the clearing.  Once on the spot I removed the tarp with most of my camping gear wrapped inside.  I put the bundle in the middle of the ten raised area.  Since I hadn't turned the bike engine off, I was able to just turn it around and head back out to lunch.

Lunch was pretty good since I found a small town six miles from the campground.  Right across from the storefront town hall, I saw the sign for Miss Lucy's Cafe.  With my leanings toward greasy food it was a natural.  The front of the building, which had no doubt once been a small loan company, was about half brick and half plate glass.  The glass had been decorated by years of cooking grease floating in the air, by cigarette smoke attaching itself to the sticky mess.  I wouldn't doubt there had been more than a few frying pan or grill fires to add a little smoke to the mix.

The short of it was that one could barely make out the interior of the cafe from the outside.  The bright day disappeared as I entered the front door.  The lighting was gloomy but the restaurant was alive with activity.  It was well after the midday lunch time on a Friday, still almost all the dining room's 20 table were occupied.  I would have sat at the counter, if there had a real counter.  For some reason the counter itself was very small just enough room for the cash register and gum display rack.

To make up for the lack of counter space there were shelves with stools along one of the side walls.  The shelves were high enough to stand and eat.  Most likely that had been the original idea, but somewhere along the line the owner had sprung for very high stools.  The whole arrangement looked terribly uncomfortable to me.  I chose a small table near the front window so that I could keep an eye on my bike.

"What can I get you?" The middle aged waitress asked.

"Well how about a menu?"  I asked it smiling to make sure it didn't come off as a rebuke.

"Don't have one Hon.  The menu is on that board."  She pointed to a sign over the pass through opening to the kitchen.  She also stood pen in hand while I quickly scanned it.  Her body language made sure that I knew she was busy and in a hurry.

"Okay a bowl of stew with cornbread and iced tea," I suggested.

"Any desert with that?"

"No I think that will do just fine."  I had no idea the size of the stew bowl, but if it was tiny I would just ask for more.  I tried to avoid sugar as it was like crack cocaine to me.  One desert would lead to five more.

I barely had time to take a good look at the people around me before the food arrive.  They looked mostly like blue collar workers.  There were a sprinkling of what I thought might be office workers of some kind.  I thought that because there were no children in the place.  Women in a restaurant without kids made me think they were on a late lunch break from work.

The stew arrived in an adequate sized bowl.  There were two large pieces of cornbread so it was a hearty meal.  After the stew, cornbread and two glasses of iced tea, my fuel gauge read full.  I left the restaurant after leaving a small tip and paying my check.  I didn't even try to put it on my credit card.  It just didn't look like the kind of place that would look kindly at the idea.

I almost went back inside to ask for the location of the nearest grocery store but decided not to bother.  I saw a gas station convenience store down the road a hundred yards or so.  I didn't want to do my shopping there but they should know where I could find a small supermarket.

Sure enough the slightly more than high school aged girl gave me fuzzy directions to the store.  I followed them and promptly got lost.  A man washing his car, on the side of the residential street where her directions led me, did a little better.  His directions took me right past a shopping center with a supermarket.

I locked the bike on the end of a parking lot lane.  I found that I could fit the bike where no car could ever park.  Inside the store I took a buggy even though I didn't plan to come close to filling it.  I decided that I would surely be out again the next day so I thought about two meals only.  For dinner that night I bought a family sized can of chili,   I also bought a box of Ritz crackers and a small jar of peanut butter.   I found to my surprise that the store had a deli.  I managed to pick up two bagels.  It was good that I didn't have to buy a bag of them.  

Since the park provided a trash can, even on the primitive sites, I picked up a small package of disposable plates and cups.  The trash can was no doublt a valiant attempt to keep the park clean and to cut down on the labor costs.  My shopping ended with a small Styrofoam cooler.  One that would hold no more than a six pack of beer.

I secured my purchases to the trailer then took off for the park.  The ride back was shorter than the ride to the store.  It always seemed to be that way for some reason.  I left my purchases on the site, then took a ride around the park to explore.  As usual the bike made me a couple of new friends.  When someone appeared to have an interest, I stopped to show off my toy.

Men and boys usually showed the interest which was fine, I certainly wasn't looking to meet women.  It was a test trip just to see if a real trip was feasible, not a matchmaker thing in any form.

I noticed on my ride that there were a lot more camping trailers than there were tents.  It seemed as though tent camping was on the decline.  I wasn't all that surprised.  Most people seemed to have decided that convenience was worth buying.  They had even managed to fool themselves into to thinking they were getting back to nature.  Back to nature in a plastic trailer.  "That is a frightening thought," I said almost aloud. 

Back on the primitive site I began thinking shelter.  The raised area of the site would never do.  I had no tent poles to lift the tarp.  I had a half dozen plastic tent pegs and a bit of nylon rope but nothing else.  I also had a bunch of different sized bungee cords.  Those had been used to secure my load to the trailer.  

I used the motor bike to secure the bottom and give it a little lift at the rear.  It would also protect the bike as well.  I managed to place it under a tree with a branch I used to secure the front.  I left  little hanging over.  When I finished there was enough room for me to spread out the 30 degree sleeping bag.  It was early spring so I hadn't brought the extra blanket.  I probably should have but I wouldn't know that until the middle of the night.  I put the six pack cooler into the bike basket then headed for the store just outside of the park entrance.

"Hey," I said greeting the woman pumping gas into her econobox car.  She had the rear of it filled with camping gear and a tiny pop up camping trailer behind.  "I have about half a bag of ice I can't use would you like it."  She looked suspicious.  "I'm just going to toss it if you don't want it."

"Okay sure," she said.  I handed her the half empty bag.  A preteen boy slipped from the econobox and took the ice from me.  He obviously knew what to do with it.

I didn't say another word.  I fired up the bike and took off back to the campground.  I wasn't looking for women and I wanted to make a point.  You know that it really had been about waste not a pickup trick.  I mixed water from the community faucet and instant iced tea mix, then added ice.  It wasn't very good but it wasn't awful either.

I split my time that afternoon between reading and trying to decide how I was doing on the road trip.  I was still working on it when the econobox minus the trailer pulled up.  The woman with the pre teen son in tow walked from the front of my space to where I had setup shop.

"Remember us?"

"Of course the ice lady,"  I grinned to show her that it was all in fun.

"Yeah that's me.  We are going fishing, I wondered if you would like to go."

"I don't know is it safe?"  She giggled and the boy gave her a disapproving look.

"Mom can't swim and she is afraid of worms.  She wants someone along who can save me."

"Well I'll go along but you will probably have to save us all."  I said it to him with a smile.  I hoped it was warm and not condescending.  

"Do you have a rod?"  she asked it with a straight face so I went along.

"Not with me but A hook and a line will do.  If  your son will let me cut a few feet of line from his rod and borrow a hook I'm in business."

"Sure, so you are one of those survivalist?"

"Son, being able to catch a fish without a fancy rod isn't a survival skill.  Being able to catch one in your hand might be though.  No I can't do that."

The boy laughed while his mom looked bewildered.  "You can lead the way to the spot and I'll follow you on the bike."  Yes I had to take down the shelter to free the bike, but what the heck it was easy to put back up.

The boy's name was Paul and his mother was Lisa.  I found that out while I more or less watched the two of them fish.  It appeared that I was the designated lifeguard.  The two of them caught about a dozen fish.  Two or three were big enough to keep.  Paul insisted that his mother cook the fish for his dinner.  I laughed as I asked if either of them knew how to clean and cook a fish.  Just as I expected neither did.

Since I didn't see any signs forbidding it, I cleaned the fish by the lake.  I used the large, sharp pocket knife to do the deed.  The fish were pretty ragged and I probably threw away too much when I scaled and cut off the fins but hell it was just for show anyway.  One or two pieces with all the bones left in and he would most likely decide the next fish would be from a restaurant.

After the fishing I rode the bike back to my campsite.  I reset the shelter which took much less time than before.  Like most things it is easier to redo them than it is to do them initially.  I have found that true of almost everything.

I heated my chili in the one deep frying pan, then I just leaned against a tree listening to my miniature radio while I ate. I had found room for the radio inside the bicycle parts box.  Fortunately none of the oil containers had leaked onto it.  It had a high pitched and tinny sound, but I'm not a big time music lover so it was passable.  

For safety reasons the fire box was in the middle of the open campground.  In order to have a backrest, I was about ten yards from the fire box.  It didn't really matter since there wasn't enough heat from the charcoal fire to do me any good.  It was adequate to cook food but would never keep a body warm.  Maybe in a confined space, but then it would have been very dangerous.  

When the sun went down it was both dark and chilly.  I made the thirty yard dash to the bathroom, then slipped back to the shelter to sleep.  I should have said to try to sleep.  The ground was very hard and uneven.  It might have been better on the tent stage but I had my doubts.

To put the most positive spin possible on it, I slept fitfully.  I was exhausted that next morning, which aggravated my balance problem.  All in all it was a miserable night.  I decided that if I couldn't come up with a better arrangement, I was going to pack the trailer after lunch and head home.

The bagel was alright but not nearly enough.  I wanted burned animal flesh, so I decided to check out the small town where I had bought my lunch the day before.  As I rode toward the park exit I saw my fishing partners from the day before.  I pulled the bike into their camp space since they were both in folding chairs on the shady side of the camper.

"So how did you two manage last night?"

"I hated it," the woman said.  I kept hearing things.

"Yeah nature's a bitch sometimes."  I grinned at the boy who tried to hide his amusement.  "If you don't like the great outdoor, why the heck are you camping?"

"I got the camper in the divorce and Mark likes to fish.  I promised to give it a try.  I'm afraid I was not very good at it."

"Oh you did fine.  You will pick it up."  Mark said it more hopeful than positive.

"So how did you manage?" Mark asked.

"Mark, to be honest I found out something.  I'm way too old to sleep on the ground.  I think this might have been my last camp out."

"So you aren't going to spend the summer on the road after all."

"I'm just not sure about that.  I just have to find a way that will allow me to walk the next day.  I am so stiff that I can hardly move."

"Why don't you just buy an RV?" Mark asked.

"Bite your tongue boy."  I was grinning while I said it.  "I'm an old hippy.  We invented the RV, but alas merchants (spit) got into the act.  It went from home decorated Volkswagon buses, to Wennyburgers."

"Yeah but you could still travel." He suggest not the least bit offended.

"No son, in an RV you can get from one camp ground to another.  It's just like being on a Greyhound Bus.  Traveling is about the trip not about the so much about the destination."  I saw that he was bewildered.  "You might need to be a little older to understand."

"I'm older," the mother said.  "I don't get it either."

"Okay try this.  In the little town about five miles up the road there is a diner.  It's filled with local people who actually aren't the same as the people at your office.  Have you been there?"

"Well no,  I thought the purpose was to camp out."

"Camp out was the designation, the diner is the trip."  I said it as if I really knew what I was talking about.

"Is that where you are headed now?"

"Yes it is?"

"Well I'm still hungry, how about you Mark?"  The boy nodded his agreement.  "Then we will just tag along."

"Be hard to tag along on my bike."  I said it with a grin.

"Then we will follow."

"My bike does about twenty miles an hour, do you think you can drive that slow."

"Then lock your bike and ride with us."  Mark was the one who suggested that.

"No thanks I am beginning to hate cars.  Tell you what, you go to the park entrance and turn left.  Go about a mile, then turn right on peach orchard road.  That leads right into town.  If you look on your left you will see a statue of a soldier on a horse.  Behind that statue is a diner.  Grab a table and I'll be along in a few minutes."  

I took a look around the space at all the things which needed to be secured before they could leave.  I smiled then said, "Or I'll be waiting for you."  

I left them packing things into the trailer as I pedaled about five time then eased the clutch out.  The engine hit and I was off to lunch.

Women being women, I arrived at the restaurant first.  When the older waitress arrived at the table for four, I order coffee after explaining I had more people coming.  Even on a Saturday morning there were enough customers that the management would surely have preferred I sit at one of the shelves.

I had a cup of coffee in front of me and nothing much to do so I began to think about road trip test.  The ride had been doable, though I still worried about repairs.  Even at my poky fifteen mph average I could make close to a hundred miles a day.  That kind of range would surely get me from one town to another.

I knew for a fact that I would want to overhaul the bike completely before I took the plunge.  I might even want to switch to a different frame.  I loved the light weight Schwinn but considering the wear and tear on the bike, I might go for a heavier mountain bike setup.  I had even seen one at the thrift store with a spring suspension front end.

I looked up to see Mark and his mother walking toward me.  The mother was at least twenty-five years younger than me.  Since she was the mother of an almost teenager that should give you an idea of both our ages.  

She had almost clown red hair, almost certainly from a bottle, but I wasn't a hundred percent sure since she also had pale blue eyes.  She might have been five and a half feet tall, but she could also have been an inch either way.  Her weight would have been perfect, if she lost twenty pounds.  From looking at her I would say she spent the time between my leaving and their arrival at the diner combing her hair and doing at least a little makeup work.  I appreciated it almost enough to forgive her for keeping me waiting for her vanity.

When she smiled as I stood, it finished the redemption process,  Mark just rolled his eyes as she smiled at me.  I had no idea why but even he recognized that she was flirting with me.  Have a seat guys the food is good and the place is warm if not especially bright.  Not much chrome and glass in these old places, I informed them both.

One of the many specials that day was a bowl of potato soup and a grilled ham and cheese sandwich.  It was my choice.  Mark went for a simple burger and fries.  After going over the menu for several agonizing minutes Mark's mom chose a chef salad.  Mark and I both shook our heads.

"What," she asked.

"You are sitting in a dive and you choose a chef's salad.  It just reeks of a non adventurous spirit.  Wanting to play it safe all the time.  I bet you have lists at home for everything."  I laughed and Mark joined in.

"Hey, someone has to be the planner.  We can't all just jump on a toy bike and ride off into the sunset."

"True enough, we would be nowhere with out the worker bees," I said smiling at her.

"Hey bud, I can be the queen bee as well."

"Oh, I can believe that well enough, but can you be the scout bee.  The one who goes out and finds the pollen."

She looked at Mark then said, "I think I have proof that I can find the pollen."

I laughed and Mark looked lost.  He most likely wasn't, but he knew when to keep his mouth shut and play dumb.

"Believe it or not, I don't even know your name," she suggested.

"And I don't know yours.  If it is important, I'm called Mike."  I said it then shut up leaving her to fill in the blank if she wanted.

"My friends call me Rita because it's my name."  She smiled at her small joke.

"So Rita what do you do for a living?"

"I'm kind of a bookkeeper, how about you."

"Are you kidding at my age I'm retired."

"Some kind of hippy mechanic?" she smiled as she asked it.

"No civil service employee.  I did my thirty and retired.

"You know I'm divorced how about you?"

"My wife passed away a couple of years ago."

"I'm so sorry, that must be hard."

"Yes but I'm getting back to normal.  I know this doesn't look like normal with the bike and all, but I am putting things back together, sort of anyway."  I hadn't really stopped to look at where I stood until that very moment.  At least I hadn't looked at the big picture through someone else's eyes.  I wasn't quite sure how I felt about what I saw there.  It seemed that she had forced me to see that I might just be running away, not running to adventure like in the movies.  Then again did it really matter.

The food came to break that train of thought, and I was glad.  Looking at ones self honestly takes a better place than a greasy spoon in the middle of nowhere.  So I dismissed it and got lost in the peppery soup.

I ate quickly which is my habit  I picked it up over too many years with too many things that needed to be done all at once.  I finished well before either of them. I was surprised since Rita really didn't look happy about her salad.  Still she ate with gusto.  It must have tasted better than it looked.  I had to admit my soup was good, the sandwich was excellent, but the best thing was the iced tea.  I love iced tea and will drink it no matter what the weather.  It's coffee till noon, then iced tea the rest of the day.  Most of the places I had been over the previous thirty years iced tea didn't exist.  It was a real treat to get back to it.

"You guys want anything else?" the sad looking waitress asked.

"No, it was delicious," Rita replied.

"I would like to ask a question?" I suggested.

"Sure, I probably can't answer it but shoot."

"Is there anything in this town worth seeing.  You know anything of interest to a stranger.  We are out at the park."  

"Let me ask the Mayor, I'll be right back."

Rita looked around curiously trying to figure out who the Mayor might be.  Mark just smiled at her.  I sipped on the iced tea while I gave some thought to the trip.  I was still chewing on the problems of the road.  I had pretty much decided after the miserable night that something had to change.

"Mayor suggested you take a look at the caboose further up Main Street.  That is if you have never seen one.  If you like horses, there is a horse auction today at Marley's place.  Marley is about a half mile out of town on the left.  You can miss it."

"Is that still on Main Street?"

"No, go the stoplight and turn right.  Like I said about half a mile on the left."

After she left I asked my guests, "So which will it be the caboose or the horse auction?"

"Horse auction," Mark said.

"You are kidding Mark?" Rita asked.  "I can't believe you want to go to an auction."

"Well I have never seen a caboose.  How about we do both."  I suggested it to a grimacing Rita.

"Will we have time?"

"Well the caboose isn't going anywhere.  I have no idea what time the auction starts so lets either ask or swing by there first."

"Ask," Rita suggested.

I found the man the waitress had spoken with to be cooperative, if not likeable.  He was indeed the mayor of the small town.  He was also a farmer so he had an interest in the auction.  "They say one but to be honest it will be more like one thirty.  Those darn horse just can't tell time." 

"Well I guess we will have time to go see the caboose." I suggested.

"Sure, that was restored by a couple of the town railroad buffs.  It is really something to see."

"How do we get in?" Mark asked.

"Why you just walk in of course," the Mayor said looking a little off guard by the question.

"Mark means, don't you keep it locked."

"Oh sure over night, but the constable checks it in the morning and leaves it open till dark."

"What's a constable?" Mark asked.

"He locks up things then goes around a couple of times a night keeping an eye on things.  He is in charge of the town property at night.  He calls the sheriff if he finds anything wrong.  Kind of like a old time night watchman."  I thought the Mayor did a good job explaining.

"Oh you mean like a security guard?" Mark pressed on.

"I guess so but he doesn't have a uniform or a clock to punch.  He just checks the place out a couple of times a night."

"Now there's a job I could do."  I said it with a smile.

"Yeah, he's about your age."  The Mayor smiled but it wasn't a warm smile.  I decided I didn't like the man but I'm sure he didn't give a damn.

"Why don't you leave that toy somewhere and ride with us?" Rita asked as she pointed to my bike.

"The ride to either isn't very far and I would have to worry about someone taking my bike for a hike without me."  Mark got it first, then Rita.

"Okay, we will meet you at the caboose."

The caboose was a marvel of early 20th century adaptability.  A train crew had to be able to sleep on board as well as have meals and some kind of sanitary facility during their shifts.  It wasn't like you could stop to take a whiz or anything else.  Maybe an old time passenger train could stop, and newer ones had amenities close at hand, but the freight trains were Spartan at best.  The caboose had a couple of bunk beds, a kerosene cook stove and a toilet.  There was also a tank for fresh water.

"Now this is the first RV type vehicle.  Of course there wasn't any recreation going on.  It was a pure functional work environment."  I said it as I moved around the cramped space.  

The size of the passageway made for what can only be described as intimate contacts.  I'm not sure who was the most embarrassed by the encounter but I think I was.  Rita seemed to handle it with a womanly matter of fact attitude.  I, being a man, reacted to the physical touches, even if they were accidental.  I was absolutely sure Rita noticed, but to her credit she avoided the temptation of pointing out my reaction.  Probably because Mark was present.

After the caboose it was on to Marley's auction house.  Actually Marley had a small complex for auctions.  On the right was a smaller metal building used for general merchandise auctions.  At least that's what the sign said.

The building on the left side dwarfed the general merchandise building.  It was the farm tools and livestock auction house.  It was also the one with all the activity that Saturday.   Mark and I went to the livestock auction while Rita walked around checking out the general merchandise.  It was on display pending the evening auction.  The sign informed us there was an auction every Saturday evening at six.  A small sign attached to the general auction read 'Worlds best hot dogs".

"Bet they don't sell dogs at the livestock auction," I said to Mark.

"I bet you are right Mike, this place smells really bad."

"Yeah cheap disinfectant and manure isn't exactly my idea of an apatite stimulant.  But keep the dogs in mind.  It's hard to find the worlds best hot dog on short notice."  I said it with a smile.  

Mark caught the irony which surprised me,  "Heck Mike, there is at least one world's best hot dog in every town.  Wonder how they can all be the world's best?"

"I guess because it's such a big world and hot dogs are so small." I replied.

"When I was little I wondered what they fed hot dogs, and why we ate them."

"I see you never had a pet," I replied.

"Not one I ate anyway," he said with a smile.

"That has to be a good thing since gold fish are so small.  Hardly worth the effort," I said it without cracking a smile.

The conversation was degenerating badly when Rita showed up.  "They have some great antiques up for auction tonight.  I might have to come back and see what the bidding is like."

"So what do you collect?"

"Jewelry," Mark suggested with a big ole grin.

"And dishes, I love antique dishes.  I have one plate each from ten different sets of fancy china.  Same for the cups no two pieces from the same set, that's my rule."

"Well it would make giving seating directions easier.   You are to sit by the white plate with the blue flowers."  I looked conspiratorially at Mark.

"Do you have any children?"  Mark asked it probably for his mother.  It was the kind of thing women asked me often.

"I have a step daughter and a step son in law.  Both of them are gown but sometimes I wonder just how grown."

"I think my dad says that about me," Rita commented.

"Probably does," I said in agreement.  "So have you picked out a phony Mark"

"I'd rather have a cell phone," he said it then noted that I had a bewildered look on my face.  "It's a TV commercial."

"Ah I haven't seen much TV.  I pretty much spend my time working on my bikes or messin'' around on the computer."

"Well if you don't want a horse, which would be more reliable than that toy bike I'm sure,  what the hell are we doing here?"

"Why we are immersing ourselves in the culture.  It's always the first thing you do in a strange place."

"Oh and who said that?"

"Why I did, didn't you just hear me?"  That got a smile from Rita and a chuckle from Mark.  We hung out a while longer and listened to the auctioneer do his thing.  I wanted Mark to see how it all worked.  In spite of his video game world, he was fascinated by the live auction.  Over an hour passed before he looked restless.

"Okay guys, on to more adventure,"  I said that as I stood to leave. 

"Look," Mark said pointing to a man who was trying to control a horse.  He had a short whip and was striking the horse continually.  The poor animal didn't have a chance to respond to anything but the beating it was taking. 

Without thinking I went to the man.  "Hey, take it easy there are people watching you."

"Get out of my face," the much younger man replied.  "This ain't got nothin' to do with you."

I lowered my voice so he wouldn't have to save face by being threatened in front of people.  "Unless you want to eat that damn whip, back off."   I kept my eye on him till I was sure he understood.  When I saw the surrender in his eye, I turned my attention to the horse.  I got in close and looked her in the eye.  We just stood staring for a few long minutes.  I saw her calm down, just like the handler had.

I caught her loose rein without losing eye contact.  Then I slowly turned my back to her.  "Where do you want her?"

"She is going in next," the younger man with the whip replied.  

I led her into the ring.  Since I had been watching the auction, I knew what to do.  As I stood her in the center, she got nervous again.  I turned to regain eye contact and she calmed down instantly.  When the sale was complete, I led her outside and handed the rope to the man with the whip.  I didn't even bother to tell him what to do.  He led the horse away and of course the horse promptly forgot me.  Just like a woman I thought.

The restaurant had begun life as a big old white two story house.  The entry hall served as the cashier's counter and hostess station.

"Smoking?" the woman who asked it had to be my age.  At my age she was way too old to be a hostess.  I hoped she was a relative of the owner and not trying to supplement her retirement income.  Since leaving the work force, I had become attune to the plight of many retirees.  No matter what the experts try to tell you, most of the people who reach retirement with nothing but social security were not poor or stupid.  They were simply the victim of circumstances beyond their control.  I hadn't had to deal with those issues while I worked.  I spent most of my time in countries where the old just didn't get that old.

"Either one is fine with me, do you have a preference?"  I asked that  of Rita.

"Non smoking I guess," she replied.

The hostess led us to a large table in one of the seven dining rooms.  Ours was on the first floor in what must have once been a parlor.  The two dining room sets were mismatched but both were antique.  Since the table was covered with a cloth it was hard to tell except that the chairs and the base had that antique feel.  Maybe not rare or expensive but definitely older.

The floors I noted were hardwood and highly polished.  I decided that I liked the place even before we saw the menu.  When the menu came, I discovered to my pleasure that it was hand written.  It was on a simple piece of notebook paper.  The ruled kind I had used in school a hell of a lot of years before.  Whoever wrote it most likely had taken calligraphy lessons.  It was very well done even though it wasn't exactly formal looking.  There were four choices.  Number one was meat loaf with gravy.  Number two was roast beef with gravy.  Number three was fried chicken, you guessed it with gravy.  Number four and the last of the choices was a pasta dish with meat sauce.  I didn't even consider the pasta.  I never saw it as real food, so I had only three choices. 

I true country style restaurant is judged by it's meat loaf.  I mean hell you can get roast beef or chicken at a drive through for God's sake.  If they could cook good meat loaf, then it was a real restaurant.  The waitress who showed up at the table was about thirty pounds underweight.  She was short, thin and young enough to be on the edge of an eating disorder.

I ordered the meat loaf and a couple of veggies, Rita had the Roast Beef and Mark the chicken.  After the waitress left I said to the others, "I sure as hell hope she doesn't eat here.  It she is an indication of the food, we made a big mistake."  They both laughed.

Fortunately she wasn't an indication of the food.  All of the meals arrived on platter sized plates.  About half the platter was covered with the entre, the rest was empty.  If everyone's hadn't been the same, I would have worried.  On her next trip the waitress brought bowls mounded high with veggies and a basket of rolls. 

Conversation over dinner was almost non existent.  The food was that good.  I was filled way before the platter was empty.  The banana pudding for desert seemed to be too much but I managed to choke it down.  Hell I loved it.

"So do you want to find out if there is anything else to do, or go back to the campground?" I asked that before I left the table to pay the bill.

"I want to go back by the auction.  I'd like to see how the prices are."  Rita said that matter of factly.

"Okay suits me, how about you Mark."

"Why not, it beats sitting around doing nothing at that campground."  I nodded but not in agreement.

"I got 8 who'll give me 8.50," the amplified voice shouted.

"Mark give that man 8.50 and maybe hell shut up," I said it joking with him.  Neither he, nor I cared for the auction but Rita was in a world of her own.

"Oh no you don't, what would I do with a whatever that is."

"It's a wash bowl set.  People used those before there was indoor plumbing.  Did their morning or evening body wash with that.  They poured water from the pitcher into that big bowl."

"This might shock you Mike, but we have indoor plumbing now."

"My how times do change," I used my best Grandpa Walton voice for him.

Rita bought a box of dishes from some dead woman's collection no doubt.  Mark and I were ready to leave but she wanted us to stay for just a while longer.  We did talk and laugh between items the helpers paraded around before the bidding started.

Rita finally got tired of waiting for 'just right piece' to come up for auction, so we left the action room. I dropped behind for no real reason. It just happened that way. When I stepped from the building Rita and Mark were several paces ahead of me. Mark was carrying her purchases and Rita had her car keys in her hand.

She was actually reaching to open the trunk when I caught the refection of a parking lot light off something metallic. That glint of light was a lot closer than Rita or Mark. I lifted my shoulder to protect my neck. I also moved my head away from the direction of the glint. All of that helped me take a glancing blow rather than a direct hit on my noggin.

Even the glancing blow sent me to my knees. I was down but my mind switched into gear rather than shut down. I have to admit it was from years of being on the back side of civilization that probably saved my life. I looked up to see the man closing. He obviously didn't expect me to lunge at him. He most likely thought I was stunned, stupid or both.

I knew the secret to close combat was to get in his face just as close as I could. Watch his hands but get to him was the rule. Don't stand back like actors in a movie. Get to a point where his weapon is useless. That is unless the weapon is a knife. Even then if you are in his face and can hold his knife hand it becomes moot.

The next rule, purely personal, was to end it just as fast as I could and with as much force as I could bring. It was much easier than it should have been. He was a thug, not a killer. I lunged and aimed my head at his chin. I came up under his chin with the top of my head. I felt the crack of bone. For a second or so I wasn't sure whose bones they were. I knew when he crumpled to the parking lot that it was his jaw that had cracked. That blow didn't do my already aching head much good, but I was still alive.

He moaned and stirred. I had about all the fighting I cared for in one night, so I kicked him in the head just as hard as I could. Probably not a real good example for the kid, but I had never planned to be a role model.

"I saw the whole thing. Are you okay?" The voice came from a total stranger.

"Yes thanks, would you stick around and wait for the cops please. I don't want him telling some fairy tale." I smiled at the guy.

"You are bleeding," It was Rita who said it. "Mark go inside and get a towel." She saw something in his face that I didn't. "Don't even thank about talking back just go." She was down right snappish."

"Is he dead?" the stranger asked.

"No but I feel pretty bad," I replied.

"No, I meant the other one."

"Who cares?" Rita asked. I had to smile.

I went from standing pumped up by adrenaline to sitting Indian style on the gravel parking lot only a few feet from my attacker. I just reached the end of my super power and almost fainted. Some hero, I thought as I went down.

I don't remember much till the cops arrived. Then I got a lot of questions asked. It was hard for me to answer since I had no idea what had happened or why. It was all just a big ole blur to me. They kept asking questions even while the paramedic looked me over. I refused the emergency room visit.

The cops went back to getting the facts straight. While they were asking for the tenth time how I knew the man on the way to the hospital, I saw Rita and the EMS guy whispering. I knew that couldn't be good for me.

"I don't know him at all. I have no idea who he is or why he tried to change my looks."

"I want you to come by the station tomorrow before you leave the area."

"Right detective, can I go now. I feel a little faint."

"Sure, but don't leave town."

"How long have you been waiting to say that?"

"My whole career," He replied.

"Well in that case glad I could help."

Since Rita was driving I got the back seat to myself. Mark didn't mind. I drifted off to sleep before we got to the park. In the end, I ended up sleeping in Mark's bed in the pop up. I tried to object was just wasn't up to it.

When I awoke on Sunday morning I was in a pretty bad way.  My head ached and I realized how much of a mess I had made of my first road trip.  I tried just as hard as I could to figure out who the man who attacked me might be.  I couldn't place him at all.  It had been dark and I hadn't taken time for a good look at him before I head butted him.  

To Rita's credit she had gotten out of bed early enough to either make or buy coffee.  I wasn't sure which but it was the coffee smell which woke me.  Somehow she managed to come up with, and I managed to get down two cups of the slightly too weak brew.  It didn't matter I needed the caffeine more than the taste.  She also managed to find a couple of aspirin in her bag.  The aspirin and caffeine soon gave me some relief.  Even so I wasn't steady enough on my feet to handle the showers of the bathhouse.  

Rita drove me to my campsite.  The first thing I did was to make sure the bike was safe, then I found the toothbrush and toothpaste.  I hadn't always been able to take care of my oral hygiene but I tried to do so when I could.  That was about the only thing I was capable of that particular morning.  

Once I had my body functioning more or less acceptably, I called the number on the detective's business card.  He answered on the third ring.  Even though it was early he offered to send a car by for me.  I chose to take the bike instead.  It might be a miserable ride, but I would at least have a way home if things got too hairy.

"Well Burke, at least you didn't kill him."

"So, that's a good thing?"  He recognized it as a sarcastic question.

"Actually it is.  You had good reason and all that, but it would have been much harder to just let you walk."

"What do you have in mind, since he is alive?"

"Well half a dozen people saw it and they all say the same thing.  Clyde came at you from behind.  You managed to avoid that part of the blow which most likely would have killed you.  Some say you took a hit some say you didn't."

"I did, I just didn't get enough to bleed but I got enough to have a very, very bad morning started here."

"Yeah, the witnesses also say that after you dropped him you kicked him in the head."

"They did huh?"

"They did.  So why did you kick him in the head."

"Well if I had kicked him in the ribs, it wouldn't have kept him down but it would have injured him.  That would have just been a waste."  He realized that it was sarcasm.

"So you kicked  him in the head knowing it might kill  him."

"No sir, I kicked him in the head hoping it would kill him.  Obviously I'm not near as bad as I thought."

"Oh you are plenty bad enough.  Most folks would be dead considering he swung a hammer at you."

"A hammer, I had no idea.  I thought it was  some kind of chrome pipe."

"The hammer was chrome and new.  He might have bought it just for the occasion."

"Well that would was nice of him.  I much prefer to be sapped with a shiny new weapon."  I took a deep breath because I was feeling queazy. "So, do you know who that joker was?"

"I was going to ask you that."

"I still have no idea."

"Do you remember an argument with an auction helper?"

"The guy with the horse.  He sapped me because I told him not to whip a horse.  That's just crazy."

"He is an illegal.  It was obviously one of those macho things.   You shamed him or so he says.  He just had to do something to get his honor back."

"So, sapping me from behind is an honorable thing where he comes from?"

"Must be more honorable they slinking away with your tail between your legs."

"Well now I know why.  You have your statement, and I know why some stranger wanted to kill me.  I guess our business is done."

He pushed a pad at me.  "Write down your address in case the DA needs you."

Back at the campground I found Rita and Mark gone.  It hadn't been a romance and I had inconvenienced her so I wasn't surprised.  When I reached my spot, I found a note on the trailer.  

Mike, 
Mark and I had a grand time.  Well up until the man attacked you.  Anyway we didn't get a chance to make a good ending of this.  Here is my number give me a call there might be something I can do for you about all this..     

The card gave her occupation as attorney at law.  

Geeze, I thought, an ambulance chaser will always be an ambulance chaser.  I laughed as I tossed the card into the ashes of the fire pit.

Book 2

I had just finished the world's hottest shower.  The aches in my muscles were subdued for that moment at least.  Riding the bike with zero suspension had done a number on my old worn out body.  I was still determined to do the road trip, I just didn't think I had a good enough plan.   So it was back to the drawing board for me.

I had discovered that for water all I needed to do was carry a container.  I was determined to work out the solution to each problem before tackling the next.  I went to the computer, then opened ebay.  I found a half gallon canvas water bag.  When empty, it could be rolled up for storage.  It was one problem off my list.

I tackled the food situation next.  I knew not to even consider carrying any food items from home.  I could buy small amounts of anything I needed.  I did need a way to heat food.  It was back to ebay again.  I chose the full boy scout cook kit since it was compact.  It had a fry pan, a small pot, a small metal plate that could also be a baking dish, and a metal cup.  

The one I found had no knives or spoons, but that's what fast food restaurants were for, isn't it?  Have lunch on the way to the park, and while in the dining room cop a few spoons ect.  The whole kit stored inside itself in a space about eight inches in diameter and five inches tall.  It was a good fit for the bike as I planned to use it.

For fuel it was carry a measuring devise for one ounce and a small bottle of 2 cycle oil.  There would most likely be a service station near the parks.  Wally Mart and lots of small stores carried 2 cycle oil, as well as all the auto parts stores.

Sleeping was a big issue.  I had not done as well on the ground as I had hoped I would.  It looked so much easier when Michael Parks did it.  Of course he wasn't nearly as close to 60 as I was.

Whatever I chose to do had to fit on the bike, I had given up on the trailer for camping.  It made the bike too clumsy to handle.  I didn't make much difference most of the time but when it did, it really did.  My first chore when my body recovered from just the one weekend, was to build a luggage rack on the back of the diminutive bike.  Everything I planned to carry would have to fit inside the removable basket attached there.  There was very little room, but it had to be enough there was no other way.  It meant pulling into the park with what few items I could get on the bike, then making one or more trips outside for staples.

My Mr Coffee was finally finished so I poured a cup and sipped it while revisiting the sleeping problem.  I was chewing on the problem like a dog with a bone when the memory came through the much of my brain.  It was a memory from a news story about a man who hiked the Appalachian trail from Georgia to Maine.  There was no way he could carry all the supplies he would need on his back, so he sent himself packages along the way.

I could just ship myself the sleeping gear, unload the bike then go pick up the box.  Start out with the bare essentials then add things along the way.  I just had to keep the gear small enough to carry on the bike for those few miles to the park.  A well compressed light weight sleeping bag and a light blanket, plus rolled up high density foam pad should do it.  There was only one problem that I could see.  I would get to the next space, long before the bag it if shipped it the day I left town.  The answer seemed to be two complete camp sets.  Just leap frog them along from place to place.  That just seemed like a lot of trouble and extra expense.  

I wondered if there wasn't something I could buy locally that would work for bedding and could then be trashed.  A box of  heavy duty plastic bags could be used to make a shelter of sorts I supposed.  You could probably even fill a couple with leaves to make a mattress.  That had to be better than sleeping on the ground.  I could most likely bike to the closest town with a thrift store to purchase a cheap blanket or bedspread.  If the weather turned really nasty, I would just check my butt into a motel.  That seemed like that best next plan.  Carry little and improvise.

I spent the time while waiting for my Ebay purchases working on the engine.  I tightened everything, checked all the wiring and general gave the bike a cleaning and oiling.  I had dinner with my step daughter and her husband one night.  As usual the yuppie part of the family grew tedious quickly.  The grand kids were nice to visit with but even that grew tiresome before desert. 

After dinner I had the serious talk with my son in law.  "So Mike, what you gonna' do with the house?  Are you going to live here?" 

"I haven't decided but it's too large for me.  Even if I stay here, I'll most likely scale back."

"There are a few houses in this area for sale," he suggested.

"If I decide to buy, I'll most likely go to a smaller town close by.  I don't like this town anymore too busy."

"Cindy said you were going to sell Mom's car?"

"That's right I have no use for it.  The drive down here is the first time I have moved it since I got back.  I can ride the bike everywhere I need to go."

"You are kidding that thing is a toy?"

"Son, they ride these toys all over the world as their only means of transportation.  Most people in other parts of the world live within ten miles of home. I'm going to do just like that."

"I don't believe you will ever be able to pull it off."

"Well I suppose we will have to wait and see." I was out the door pretty much the instant I finished the pumpkin pound cake.  The pound cake had been worth sitting through the old 'what are your plans' talk.

I knew for a fact during that drive home that I was leaving again just as soon as my purchases arrived.  I tried to watch TV but was far too revved up to sit still.  I took the bike out for a spin.  It wasn't quite dark so I got in almost an hour on the toy.  The ride in the almost night air calmed me down.  I couldn't really remember when I had begun to lose patience with everyone but it wasn't something new.

My step daughter and her husband didn't need a thing from my wife's estate.  I didn't either for that matter.  Getting rid of the car would be my way of simplifying my life.  It had little to do with the money.  Especially since my wife had bought a small car with a 100,000 mile warrantee, then drove it for eight years.  In those eight years it had barely over 50,000 miles but it was still an eight year old inexpensive car.

The house was the same.  An older house located in a changing neighborhood.  It had been well maintained but it was still old and in a questionable neighborhood.  The furniture in the house was a combination of my mother's and her mother's estates.  She liked antiques and semi antiques so nothing new had ever been bought for the place.  Since I was seldom around so it made no difference to me.

I retired from my government job when she became ill.  I was her part time nursemaid and full time friend during that last year.  I was never bored even though I spent more time at home, with little to do, than I had in almost thirty years.  There was always something that needed doing

I built the bike because it was something I could do quickly.  I had liked the look of the motorized bikes all over the world.  The engines were sold from China to the USA and about everywhere in between in both directions.  I just built it on a whim.  It gave me something to do, and I could also ride it just to get away for a few minutes now and then.  The kit was the best purchase I had ever made.

When the end came for my wife, I was lost for a while.  I spent more and more time on the bike.  As hokey as it sounds I got the trip idea while watching TV on a Saturday afternoon.  The movie that afternoon was about a man on a motorcycle off to see the world.  The image seemed to infect me like a virus.  I tried to fight off the bug for a week or so, then I just gave in and began to play what if.

What if I just shut down everything and took off for the summer.  What if I just loaded up the bike and took to the road.  After the what if invasion, I was bombarded with 'how would I' questions. How would I sleep.   How would I eat.  How would I carry enough stuff to survive.  After those came host of other things.  It was a grand mental exercise for a while.  

It was all a fairy tale until my neighbor asked me. "So Mike what are you planning to do next?'  I could tell he was serious.  The common feeling was that a man needed a plan, a goal, some reason to start the new day.

"Well Ed to be honest I think I'm going to take the bike and go on a trip.  Just take off and see what is out there."

He looked dumbfounded at first then he seemed to understand all at once.  "I wish I could go along.  I have two more years before I can retire."

"The company would be nice," I replied.

"Well drop me a line now and then."

"I'll do that," I agreed.

That was the beginning of yet another idea.  I decided to check into doing an online journal.  I had been fascinated with the internet since I arrived home.  I had used the net before but I never had hours of free time to bang around on it till then.  The idea of posting a journal on line seemed like an interesting idea.  It gave purpose to the trip.  That was the one thing the trip lacked some sense of purpose.

It really didn't matter that no one would ever read the journal.  "It is the trip not the destination," Jen used to say.  Jim was a college professor in Malaysia.  I met her while on a job in her country.  She had been my liaison.  There was a pretty large Christian presence in Malaysia.  They proved helpful at times.

She spent a couple of months trying to teach me to think about things differently, and I spent it trying to get her into bed.  I like to think we both could have succeeded but alas I doubt that one of us ever could have.  Which one? I leave that to your imagination.

The logistics of the journal was simple.  When ever I passed through a town of any size I would look for a public computer.  I expected that there would be enough libraries and coffee shops around to keep reasonably current.  I might have to upload two or more days at a time but that was the price I would have to pay.  I bought a pocket sized electronic notepad to jog my memory when at a public computer.  

And thats how this all began.

I decided that there was no practical reason for me to make another test run over a weekend.  That being the case I left on a Tuesday.  I carried my cell phone, a couple of ounces of oil, the boy scout mess kit, my home made tool kit, and the rolled up water bag.  My little basket behind the seat was only half full.  I knew that I would be bringing back more than I left with.

My second test trip was in a different direction from the first one.  I had no idea what kind of camp ground Malone's farm was.  On line it said the campground was open 365 days a year so I was interested to see it.  It wasn't state sponsored so I had an idea it wouldn't be much.  Still it was the correct distance from home more or less.  At 85 miles it was a good days ride for me.  It also had a town nearby.  It wasn't much of a town but I didn't think that I needed much of a town.  It would be a good indication of what I could find in a small town.

My new motto for camping was improvise and adapt.  I didn't think food would be a problem at all shelter and warmth might be but I had a plan in the back of my mind.  Time would tell how good a plan it was.

The ride itself was great fun and also uneventful.  The uneventful part was a very good thing.  Boredom was to be avoided but so was terror.  Things that happen on a motor bike are seldom for the best.  However nothing at all happened on the ride, except of course for the encounters with idiots driving cars.  That pretty much had to be taken for granted.  It helped to have a death wish when riding one of the toys.  It was about the only way to cope with automobiles.

I left the house at 7A.M. six hours later and a few minute later I pulled into farm.  Yahoo had again given me perfect directions.  I even managed to follow them perfectly.  The sign for the campground was small but I saw it right away.  The drive led to an old white two story farmhouse.  Since there was a car in the drive and an old man on the porch, I stopped.

"Hello there," I said as I walked from the parking lot.

"Howdy, what can I do for you?"

"Looking for a place to camp for a couple of days."  Neither of us seemed to be in a mood to mince words.

"Well I got ten spaces for RVs."  He looked at my motor bike.

"Ain't go no RV.  That bike is all there is, and me of course."

"You kinda' old to be sleepin' on the ground?"

It was a statement not a question, but I answered anyway.  "Yeah I know, but I love pain."  I smiled a harmless smile.

"I heared about people like you, but I expected them to be younger."

"Hell old man, I was younger once."

"Wasn't we all," the old man said.  Then he added, "I can rent you a piece of ground with a picnic table for five bucks a day.  It's what I usually get for people who come down for a picnic at one of those tables."

"If there is water and a toilet close by, you got a deal."

"Yeah I got those.  Converted a chicken house to a public toilet and shower.  You gonna' have to be gone by Friday noon or you gonna'' have to rent a real space at $20 a day."

"I'll be gone after a couple of days I promise."

"Friday noon for sure," he stated again.  He wanted to be sure that I knew the score.

"Friday noon for sure."  I handed him a ten dollar bill.  "That's for two night then."

He put the bill in his pocket.  "Drive is a big loop.  RV sites are on the left, you pick you out a picnic table and just squat."

"Fair enough, is there a gate or anything?"

"No gate just dark as hell."

Fair enough.  I picked out a table before I turned the bike around to ride it into town.  I was tired but I knew I would never start again once I stopped.  I had things to do before I could rest.

The small hometown super market was my first stop.  I picked up some fruit, canned meat, bread and a few other items.  It looked like the makings of a pretty fair dinner.  I had also spotted a diner on the way into town.  

"Hello," I said to the waitress.  "Now I know everything is good, but what is the best thing on the menu."

"This time of day, it would be the fish sandwich."

"Okay bring me one with coleslaw and french fries."  I planned to bulk up my one big meal of the day.  

The sandwich was indeed very good.  When she brought me the check I asked, "I need to pick up a blanket or something like that.  Do you have any idea where I could find one."

"Closest place I know is in Winston, ain't nothing here in Walnut Cove."

"Not even a junk store?"  I asked it thinking surely someone ran a business of some kind."

"No afraid I'm afraid not.  There is a Fabric store about a mile down that way."  She pointed in a direction away from the farm.

I made my purchases from the fabric store, then stopped at a large convenience store on the way out of town.  The bike basket was over flowing, but the purchases were more bulky than heavy.  I carefully rode the two miles back to the farm.  As is always the case, the ride back from town seemed shorter than the ride into town had been.

The afternoon was moving along swiftly.  I opened the box of reinforced trash bags.  Yes those advertised on TV being filled with the broken piano.  The first thing I did was unfold one and put another in my pocket.  I went gathering dried leave from the wooded area around the campground.  It took me all of fifteen minute to fill the two bags.  It was a clumsy walk back to the site, but the bags were not heavy at all.  

When I arrived back at the site, I flattened out the bags in the spot beside the picnic table.  It was my plan to sleep on them rather than the hard ground.  Then I turned to making my blanket roll.  I had found fleece, as well as a light weight fake fur material in the fabric shop.  I laid out both of them on top of the picnic table.  The fleece was 54 inches wide while the fake fur was 62  I made a kind of sleeping bag with the fleece folded inside of the fur.  After I had a kind of bag, I slipped one end of it into a flattened out trash bag.   It was a tight fit so I folded one of the edges over to make the bundle a little narrower.  I planned to use a cut bag over the top to hold as much heat in as possible.

  I opened three of the bags, used the duct tape from the convenience store to tape the edges to make a water tight tarp.  Finding a dozen or so stones wasn't difficult at all.   The shelter and the bed had taken no more than an hour.  I still had a couple of hours of daylight left.  The tiny FM radio played country music while I made a few notes about my first day on the road.

I had seen the large camping trailer across the drive and about thirty years north of me, but hadn't paid any attention.  Since there were no cars I assumed the trailer was in some kind of storage.  That being the case I was a little surprised when the pickup truck pulled in a little before sunset.  The man who got out took one look over at my rag tag camping outfit then disappeared into the trailer.

I didn't let his obvious disdain for my gear bother me.  I set about preparing for my dinner.  I had a small can of beef stew, an apple and a few grapes, a couple of pieces of cheese and half dozen dinner rolls.  It was actually more than I had expected.  The only thing that needed heating was the stew.  Even that wasn't absolutely necessary, but I wanted to try my idea for cooking.  

Plan A proved to be workable in this one place.  I found that there were bits of unburned charcoal and firewood laying about in the various campsites.  I managed to round up enough to heat my stew.  To start them I wicked up a small amount of gasoline from he bike's tank with a scrap of the fleece.  In the metal grill provided by the campground, I was easily able to start a fire.  Dinner wasn't great but I had eaten much worse over the years.

When the sun went down, I crawled into my bed and slept through the night.  There were plenty of things that went bump in the night, but I managed to rest quite well.  The bed of leaves was a lot more comfortable than the hard ground had been on my last test run.

The very first thing I decided that I wanted the next morning was coffee.  I decided that very moment to never go to ground without some kind of coffee mechanism in place.  I got really lucky that morning.  The office opened an  hour after I woke from my overly warm bed.  

"Morning," I said to the old man from the day before.

"Morning, I saw your camp this morning.  You definitely bring the old hobo spirit to the place.  I'm glad you are going to be gone by the weekend."  He just laughed.  I think I saw a respect in his eyes.

"Thanks, I was wondering where the closest place I could get a cup of coffee might be."

"Oh right in the next room.  That is if you don't leave the office with my cup."

"Fair enough," I replied as I moved into his coffee room.  It proved to be no bigger than a walk in closet.  The coffee was more than simply warm and that was fine with me.  

"God I don't know how I could have forgotten coffee."

"I'm still wandering what the hell you are doing out on the road at your age."

"There are only speed limits not age limits on the roads.  Besides I watched too much TV as a kid."

"I'll say you did."  He was silent a minute then went on.  "Where did you get that motor bike?"

"Well the bike came from Walmart and I added the motor myself."

"How fast will it go?"

"I figure it will do about thirty miles an hour on the flats.  Hell to be honest it goes faster than I care to ride it."

"I can't say as I blame you any.  It's pretty scary I would think."

I went on to tell him about me project to be started anytime.  In exchange he told me about his campground and it's history.  

"My son was a musician in a country band.  They played like in bars and stuff.  He convinced me that if I held a kind of convention that his friends would get the word out.  They sure as hell did to.  That first year we had ten bands and their fans camped out all over that meadow about a mile from where the campground is now.  

The next year Billy, my son, sent out invitations and we rented a bunch of porta johns.  I rented one of those water trucks that brings in emergency water.  After that the thing just grew.  Billy his day job is in an office.  He figured out a way to get the government to pay most of the cost of building the campground and that little stage down by the lake.  You have seen the stage?"

I shook my head no.

"Don't matter none," he said after a short pause.  "The campground seemed like a good idea since I was tired of working my butt off.  So now I farm a little for me and my friends and I sit here making your coffee."

"That's one interesting story," I said.

"Lot more to it, but them's the bones of it."

"So, other than the festival, do you get much business?"

"On the weekend we get fishermen and picnic folks.  No place else for them to go for a cookout."

"So who is the guy across from me?"

"Oh Jake, he's here working on the highway bridge.  At least that's what he said.  Some kind of engineer."

I nodded then commented, "I'm surprised you don't have kid trouble around here.  You know vandals at least."

"Nothing much here for them.  On the weekend the sheriff keeps an eye out, and I do as well."   I didn't mention that he had to sleep sometime.  I was enjoying the coffee too much to say anything negative.  "Is that campground big enough for a festival?"  

"Hell no they camp all over the hillside over yonder.  The place you are is just the improved area.  One year it rained and I spent all day Sunday pulling people out of the mud so they could get home."  After that I had about fifty trucks of trash rock dumped up there.  It just sank right into the mud, but at least it has a bottom now.  If it rains during the festival people get muddy but they seem to think it is part of the experience."

"Yeah like Woodstock without the drugs," I said with a smile.

"Oh the place reeks of pot, but that ain't none of my business."  She stop then took a long sip of his coffee.  "Lots of sex as well.  Too bad I can video what goes on in them tents."

It was barely 9AM when I got back to the camp space.  I made sure everything was weighted down in case a strong wind came up.  I didn't want to be forced to go looking for my camp.  A good wind might spread it over several counties.  

I had nothing much to do at that moment, so I hopped on the bike and headed off to the closest town.  The closest town of any size proved to be 45 minutes away at almost top speed the whole trip.  The wide balloon tires, which I had been talked into after the first test, made the ride much more comfortable.

In that town I found the old white frame house the town used as the public library.  Inside the public library I found a public access computer.  Actually there were two.  They were on the same desk.  There was no privacy and I expect that was for a reason.  Hard to watch porn in the open like that.  Since porn wasn't on my mind that day, I checked my email, then went to the blog I had already set up.

I detailed my first day on the road.  I spent the most time listing the things I wished I had done, then I added my plans for the day.  Of course I had no expectation that the plan would go as I wished.  If everything went as planned it would be the first time in my life that it had.

After working on the blog I did some research.  From being on the road just one day, I knew that I needed a better cooking source.  Yes I had managed to find enough half burned wood and charcoal to make a fire, but I also realized that in a really well organized campground they would clean all that up between guests.  In a busy campground the area would have been swept clean of anything combustible years before.

To the rescue came the newspaper stove.  Actually it was a stove that would burn anything from newspaper to charcoal.  Mine would need to be custom made, but that was no real problem.  After all I had the design from the internet.  

When I left the library, I had directions to the local hardware store, the one that was a real hardware store.  One of those old farm supply places actually.  I think the man who approached me was the brother of the camp ground owner.  At least they had a pretty good resemblance going on.

"What can I get you young fellow?" he asked.

"Man nobody has called me young in twenty years, I think I'm gonna' like it here."  I was all smiles.

"Well you are young to me."  He smiled showing me his yellow broken teeth when he smiled.

"Well to be honest, I need help as much as anything."

"Well I might not can help, but I promise I won't hurt you too much.  Now what do you need."

For the next thirty minutes I explain and he helped me find things that would work.  They weren't exactly what the plan called for but we quickly made them work.  We built a four sided pyramid from two 90 degree angled pieces of galvanized roof flashing.  He made a rough fold on the edges to make the pyramid shape from the rectangular pieces of metal.   The folds also made it possible to clip the two pieces together and remove the clips to fold it for storage so that it took up a very small amount of space.  One side, at the base, of the pyramid had a small opening, into which I could feed fuel.  There were several holes at the top on the opposite side for the smoke to escape.  The top was open so pans from the boy scout mess kit could sit on top.  the whole thing was about eight inches at the bottom and probable six at the tip.  I could most likely sit it either on the ground on onto the grill of the campsite.  It would fit into the bike's basket just fine.

It was time for a late lunch, when the camp stove was packed into my basket.  I found a drive in restaurant for lunch.  It was a chain operation so I didn't feel bad about lifting some plastic dinnerware.  After bulking up on almost cheap burgers, I headed back to the campsite.  I planned to make a stop along the way for coffee.  What good would the stove be without coffee?

Back at the campground I listened to country music and made notes for my next day with the blog.  It would be about the stove and where it all came from.  Childhood memories were hard to come by for me.  My retirement was as much about the memory as it was about the thirty years of service.  The idea for the stove came from those early years.  It was a memory that had somehow avoided the grand overwrite of my brain files.  To be someone else for thirty years tended to squeeze who you really are into a far corner of the brain.  Sometimes they say you could find it again and something you couldn't.  The road trip was as much about finding me again, as getting away from the real world without murdering someone.  The Doctor's had said it would be a slow reawakening and that I had better try to play nice while it happened.  I tried to play nice by not playing at all.

"Hey there," it was the voice of the park owner.

"Well hello, you come down to slum?"

"A little I guess.  What you got there?"

"It's my new coffee maker."

"You could have just stopped in the office.  I still got some left over from this morning."

"Thanks but I wanted to try this out."  

"A little wind comes along that thing is going to blow out."

He was right the little stove was shaky we never did get it right.  "I think you probably have a good point.  Nonetheless I wanted to try it."

"Couple of things you got all wrong.  you should have just left those folded pieces of metal alone.  Just lean them against each other.  Have them fold each edge back to make a little flange.  You can use those little clips you got to hold the pieces together. Then get them cut to about half that height with a little fold on each edge.  I would personally burn sterno in that thing but twigs will work.  There ain't no need in making it fancy.  Well you keep trying, meanwhile I'll go back to my Mr. Coffee."

The old man was right it would have been more stable if we hadn't done the pyramid folding at the top.   I still didn't want to burn sterno.  I had discovered one thing for myself.  I needed to carry a third piece of metal so that I could set the stove on top of the grill in the public parks.  All in all though the little stove worked just as I had expected it to.

The coffee required a lot of work but it was doable.  I simply put a plastic spoon of coffee in the little cook pot of the boy scout kit, then filled it with water.  I put the pot on the stove and let it heat.  I was a little surprised when it came to a boil.  I strained it through two folds of a restaurant napkin.  It wasn't bad but I knew I needed to use more coffee for the next pot.  One pot made two of the small metal cups full. 

It was early evening and I had nothing to do.  I turned my mind to fishing.  I decided to take a look at the lake.  I rode the bike down the drive away from the county road.  It lake was closer than I expected.  The wooded patch around the campsite didn't last for more than a couple of hundred yards.  The old man had cleared out the side of the lake at least for a couple of hundred yards.  There were no bushes at the lake's edge, a sure sign of man's tampering with the environment.  I thought about how best to fish the area with the minimum amount of gear.

Again from the dregs of my memory came an image of little brown men throwing line out into the thick green slime of a jungle waterway.  They got the distance needed by swinging the bait in circles over their head then letting it go like a slingshot of sorts.  I knew for a fact that I wasn't that good but I could manage the same thing with a more western twist. I filed the information away under, next trip I fish.  I certainly wouldn't be for the food but rather for the mindless endeavor that allowed the needless muck to clean out of my brain.  I climbed back onto the bike and enjoyed the air in my hair and the sound and feelings as the bike throbbed along.  

Sleeping that night was much better than it had been the night before.  For some reason the bags of leave seemed to fit my body better, or maybe I just expected the right amount of comfort.  It was all about expectations in the end.  If you lowered them enough, you could meet them and be at peace.  There was a nice sense of peace in the empty campground that night.

I drank two cups of gritty coffee before I did much of anything.  Burning some of the dried leaves from the trash bag mattress seemed like a good idea at the time.  Keeping the fire going with such highly combustible material took all my time.  It did keep me from thinking which was probably a good thing.

After the coffee packing the bike didn't take much time at all.  The mess kit got cleaned before it went back into the case.  The water bag got emptied then rolled up before I emptied the plastic bags.  The ones which had not been cut, could be rolled up into a small bundle so I decided to take them along.  The ones I had cut up, I tossed into the trash can.  I also tossed in the heavy fake fur, and the lightweight fleece bits of cloth.  They had been under ten bucks so cheap enough to buy another bit of cloth later.  That pretty much took care of my packing.  The large basket on the bike was just over half full.  I placed one of the folded bags on top then tied it down with a bungee cord.  It would be enough to prevent the wind from blowing things about.

"So you off?"  It was the park owner who asked.  I had stopped in to say goodbye.

"Yep, off to see the world."

"How fast does that bike of yours go?"

"I average about 16 mph.  I'm not setting any records but it is faster than a covered wagon."  I smiled at the image.  "Well you take care of yourself old man."

"I will, and you be careful on that toy." he said offering me his hand.

"That I will."  I left the office and rode the bike back to the same city library I had used the day before.  There I wrote my day's journal entry.  I also pulled up some maps and began looking for my next destination.  Near water seemed to be a popular place to locate campgrounds.  I found one eighty miles east of the spot where I sat.  A little over five hours on the bike.  It was certainly a nice day for a ride.  The sun was shining and the temperature was supposed to be in the mid seventies.  Before I pulled from the parking lot, I took a few minutes to tighten all the bolts and the cable ends.  Not nearly as big a task as it sounded.  I had done it so many times it was just a five minute routine.

"Where did you get that thing?"  the voice came from a man just a few years younger than myself.

"I bought the engine and installed it myself.  It comes as a kit."

"Was it expensive?"

"Not at first," I laughed.  "There was always one more thing I wanted to improve.  That added up to at least the price of the kit."

"So what kind of gas milage do you get?"

"They claim it does a hundred and fifty miles to the gallon.  I think I get something over a hundred at least."

"Good lord, would you mind telling me what it cost for the kit."

"Mine was under two hundred bucks, some are more I think.  It just depends."

"Well I won't bother you anymore."  With that he walked away.  It was time for me to be on the road so I didn't discourage him at all.

Riding down the country roads had a pacifying effect on me.  It was very relaxing almost dangerously so.  I found myself slipping into almost a hypnotic state.  The vibrations of the bike lulled me into a less watchful state than I should have been. It wasn't a real problem since I seldom encountered an automobile and when I did they usually gave me a much wider berth than I needed.

I stopped to buy two quarts of gasoline.  One for the tank and a spare I slipped into the basket.  Since it was lunch time and no town in sight, I had a couple of packs of peanut butter crackers and a can of cooked sausages.  All that I washed down with a 12 ounce bottle of coke.  I saved the coke bottle for later.

Later in the day I crossed a river bridge.  On the far side of the bridge sat a bait and tackle shop.  I stopped for some cotton line, sinkers, and hooks.  The purchases fit easily into the basket of the bike.   

I was close to the city park when dinner time rolled around.  It was less than ten miles so stopping for dinner seemed reasonable.  The sign said worlds best hot dogs.  There that phrase was again.  Oh hell, I thought, I might as well have another of the world's best hot dogs.  I suppose being out of the country for so many years made me a sucker for hot dogs and good burgers.  A burger made from beef was a real treat after so man made from water buffalo.  The buffalo always died of old age I'm sure.

"Let me try two of those worlds best hot dogs with mustard chili and slaw.  I would like a pepsi and a bag of chips as well."  I said it to the teenaged girl with really bad acne.  If she had lived in a bigger town, and been more affluent, there might be few scars but in her case there were already several scars.

"Yes sir, would you like a homemade fried apple pie with that?"

"Let me think of that while I eat.  If I have room, I might just try one."  She brought the food almost immediately.  Okay it wasn't the best hot dog I ever had, but it was good.  The chili was nice and spicy.  I was about to order the pie when I heard the voice behind me.

"Hey Mister is that your toy out there?"  Now I get asked about the bike all the time and I enjoy it, but his voice was decidedly not friendly.  Instead of curiosity he reeked of animosity.

"Yep that's my bike."

"Well it's not really a bike now is it.  More like a pussy moped."  He was grinning at the teenager behind the counter.  She was busy trying to ignore him.  I took a good look at him before I answered.  He was a least fifty pounds over weight.  He was breathing hard from just the effort of speaking.  A man in that condition should be careful about how big a load he tries to tote.  I suppose because he was younger he expected to intimidate me.

"Well the state of North Carolina calls it a moped yeah, but I think they reserve the word pussy for all motorcycles that aren't Harleys.  I had no idea what he rode.  It would either get a laugh or he would be offended.  It didn't matter much to me which.

"Shit, I wouldn't be caught dead on any of them."

"That's a good thing for us bike owners."

"Is that an insult?"

"It is what it is."  We stared at each other over the ten or so feet.

"How bout I come over there and make you apologize?"

"Well you could do that or you could just shut up and order your dinner."  Things had taken a serious turn for the worse in the small diner on the back road.  I saw the waitress move toward the phone.  I expected that she had a 911 call in mind.

He made what could have been the biggest mistake of his life.  Fortunately for him when he rushed me, I stepped aside and tripped him as he passed.  At that point I had two choices, I could have kicked him in the head or I could have broken  a chair over him as he tried to stand.  Instead I just turned and walked away.  I had left a bill on the counter before he rushed me.  I knew even then that I wasn't likely to stick around to settle up.

I walked slowly to the bike.  If he wanted more trouble I didn't want to be on the flimsy bike on a back country road.  Visions of Easy Rider filled my head, so I used the point of the knife to press on the valve and flatten two of his tires.  I know he watched from the doorway, but he didn't come out.  It wasn't much of a fight he put up, of course he could have broken something in the fall.  I didn't give a crap.

Bullys aren't especially tough or well trained fighters, they are just willing to inflict pain on people.  When they run into someone else who is willing to inflict pain and is reasonably well trained, it tends to end quickly and they go look for someone else they can intimidate.  They actually never learn from their mistakes.

I made it to the campground after only one more stop,  I found a convenience store near the park.  There is almost always one with a mile or two.  I bought another coke and a cookie for later.

The days were long enough so that when I found my space, I still had time to go into the closest town.  I needed bedding.  That day I found a goodwill store which had a stock of blankets.  The blankets where huge and of a very plain synthetic material.  

"Those are from the hurricane relief down to the coast last summer.  Seems they make a special blanket for them relief folks.  They can't reuse them so they donates them to us."  It was a middle aged well dressed black lady who volunteered the information.

"Well I think I only need about half of one." I answered with a smile.  "So you have a pair of scissors."

"Sure, but you do understands you have to pay full price."

"Of course," I replied.  "The blanket was a rectangle about six by eight feet.  I cut it into two pieces one about 5'x6'.  The scrap was about 3'x6'.  I found out, when I rolled it,  why they had bought a synthetic material.  When compressed, it got very small. I found that I could fit both pieces in the basket of the bike.  If I had known that I probably wouldn't have bothered to cut it.

I made pretty much a copy of the previous night's campsite before the sun started to fail.  I sat about in the dark trying not to remember my life before my wife's illness.  Coming home and being involved with her care for the better part of that last year had kept me occupied.  At least enough not to spend a lot of time remembering.  I didn't spend a lot of time sleeping that year and that was a blessing.  

Being out of doors most of these last few days seemed to help me sleep.  Also the bike left me sore so I had plenty of other things to think about.  Pain and keeping the bike going all played into keeping my mind occupied.  That is till I stopped for the night.  When the sun went down there was way too much time.  But it was probably good for me to come to grips with it all.

It was sitting there with the bad coffee and the sad radio songs that tended to encourage me to rethink my life.  It always ended the same.  I couldn't go back and redo it and I had no plan for the future.  It seemed like a never ending game of 'what if'.

I awoke the next morning shortly after sunup.  I didn't even try to make coffee, instead I cranked up the bike and headed off to breakfast at the nearest diner.  Breakfast was the least expensive meal to eat out so I chose it whenever possible.  I went back to the same diner as the night before.  Partly because it was close and partly to see if I needed to sneak out of town.  If I needed to go, I wanted to get out one step ahead of the law.

The teenager had been replaced by a different teenager.  That teenager de jour had bad teeth instead of bad skin.  I decided not to bring up the incident from the day before until after I had eaten.  If they tossed me out on my butt, I wanted to at least have a good meal first.  

I didn't have to bring it up.  I heard a voice from inside the back wall, which surrounded the kitchen, say,"Yeah he is here again. So what do you want me to do?"

It could have meant anything about anybody, but I knew it was about me.  I had no idea the cook was talking to the the sheriff or the guy with the two flat tires.  That being the case I decided not to hang around.  I finished my meal quickly then cranked up the bike.  I got back to the campground without incident so I decided to spend one more day resting.  I didn't much like the idea of moving on everyday, besides I had no where to go and no particular time to be there.

When I left the restaurant, I had asked for two pieces of bread to go.  I picked up my fishing gear and rode off to the lake.  There was a small pier at the opening to a kind of inlet.  I found a spot that seems as good as any, then I tied a hook onto the end of the cotton fishing line.  I put a lead sinker on the line about five inches above the hook.  I allowed about four of ounces of water to collect in the bottom of the 12 ounce coke bottle before I screwed the top on tightly.  I used some of the bread for bait.  After tieing the fishing line around the bottle I threw the coke bottle as far as I could.  The bottle bobbed on the water a few times then settled top up about twenty five yards from shore.  I settled back into a shady spot, then turned on the radio.

I must have been napping because when I next looked at the late the bottle was running back and forth along the top of the water.  I drew the line in hand over hand.  The fish wasn't especially large but it was kind of a good feeling to know I had caught one on my make shift fishing outfit.  Especially since the fishing outfit could be carried in a plastic bag no bigger than a sandwich baggie.  

I threw the fish back into the lake.  I had no desire to cook fish on the camp stove.  It would be best at heating a can of beans or some other precooked food.  Catching the fish was more an experiment, but I re baited the hook and tossed the coke bottle in again.  I promptly returned to my nap.

"Is that you bike?"  I half expected to have trouble again.  I looked up then tensed for the butt kicking I expected to receive.  Instead of the angry red neck, it was a middle aged woman in a sheriff's uniform.

"Yes deputy that's mine."  I didn't volunteer anything else.

"Where were you yesterday afternoon?"  She didn't seem particularly concerned with her safety.  She had no reason to be, but she didn't know that.

"Are you asking if I was in a dinner yesterday evening?"

"Yes, were you?"

"Of course I was, but I can explain."

"Nothing to explain.  We all know Billy Ray is a bully with a big mouth.  Just wanted to tell you not to get any ideas about doing that to anyone else's truck."

"I have no intention of being involved in another altercation."

"Good, so how is the fishing?" she asked.

"The fishing is fine, it's the catchin' that ain't so good."  I smiled at my own joke.

"I'll drive by later to make sure Billy Ray keeps his distance."  She smiled as she answered the squawking from her radio.  She was also walking to her patrol car as she spoke first to me then into the radio.

In the early afternoon I got hungry so I rolled up my fishing gear.  I stored it in a small plastic baggie, then I slipped it into my pocket.  I was careful to make sure the hook was covered.  Visions of the hospital emergency room popped into my head.  A fishing hook is a nasty thing to have stuck into your body.

I drove by the campsite on the way out of the campground.  Everything appeared to be in order so I just kept going.  I stopped at the small convenience store near the campground.  I picked up a few things for dinner, but I also microwaved a burrito.  It was easier than cooking, but not as good as a restaurant meal would have been.  Still it was filling and cheaper than a restaurant.

Back at the campsite I caught a wiff of myself.  I was pretty rank.  I wanted to go into town to post an entry to my blog anyway, so I added clothes to my list of things to buy.  I found that I could buy a knit golf type shirt at the Goodwill store for three bucks, so I bought a red one.  My jeans would survive another day.

I found that I was just prissy enough that I couldn't do the pre owned boxer thing.  I found a mini Wal-mart type store in the same shopping center as the Goodwill.  I bought a three pack of boxer shorts.  I was afraid my basket would be over full when I moved on, if I kept buying things.  

Back at the camp ground I took a shower the first in three days.  I felt like a new man, as I always had after a hot shower.  Hot showers were, at least in my mind, a sure sign of civilization.  I just tossed my dirty clothes in the trash.  Back at my site, I put away my other purchases.  

I put my new poncho inside the trash bag covered bedding.  I had found that even though the days were warm the nights were chilly, so I had made a poncho from the smallest part of the synthetic blanket.  It worked fine but it was sky blue of all things.  I would certainly hate to be seen in that thing outside the campsite.   I didn't really mind all that much since I didn't plan to wear it outside the campsite.  The poncho was the simplest form of outer wear.  It was worn by the indigenous population in about every underdeveloped country south of the border.

I fished a little in the afternoon, then went back to the campsite.  I fired up my little stove, on it I heated a can of beans.  The beans and two packs of cheese crackers made up my dinner.  The one meal a day in a restaurant seemed to be sufficient to keep me satisfied with no more than a minimum of other food..

After supper I had the radio going while I sat looking up at the stars.  I tried to remember some things and forget others.  It was a pleasant experience.  I was interrupted when I saw the headlights slow down several spaces before the car arrived.  The driver was looking for someone or something.  I had a premonition that it was me for whom they searched.  Again that vision of easy rider's final scene came to mind.  I put my hand on the large folding knife in my pocket.  It was comforting.  I'm sure I looked like a bundle of rags.

I saw the figure slip from the car and knew instantly that it wasn't my partner from the diner dance.  The person was too thin and too graceful.  "Are you here?"  The voice was very close before it floated on the air.  It was also very female.  It had to be the cop, I thought.

"Yes, I'm here."  I was much closer than she thought.  She actually jumped back at the sound of my voice.  

"Then the redneck didn't kill you yet?"

"Not yet, is he planning to?"

"You know how men are.  All macho and bullshit, it's usually not a good combination."

"Is it ever?  A good combination I mean."

"Probably not."

"I'd offer you a cup of coffee, but my coffee is pretty bad."  Yes I said it to change the subject.

"Well I know a place where the coffee is good and it's cheap."

"Cops always know where the good and cheap coffee is."

"Yeah, my place.  Come on I'll buy you a cup."

I got my first good look at officer Jillian Holt at her double wide mobile home.  I had seen her in a police uniform but one seldom gets a good look at anything but the uniform.  Plus I wasn't interested in the person at the time.  At that moment all I had any interest in was staying out of jail. 

Then at the campsite later that evening it was dark and I was surprised.  Nothing like that ever happened to me before, without money changing hands.  When the shock wore off, I had the bike locked securely to the bolted down picnic table.  It was still dark even in her car.  At which point I couldn't have described either Jillian or her car had she decided to roll me.

Inside the double wide, with the white vinyl siding, I got my first look at Jillian Holt.  She was on the dark side of forty.  She could even have been fifty I had no idea really.  She was pretty close to my own age is all I knew for certain.  She had that hard body look of a gym rat type.  She had hard features as well.  Jillian was attractive but certainly had no real beauty.  Well no beauty in the sense men usually think of it.  She had all the warmth of a pit viper.  Still she had something intriguing about her.  Maybe it was that ice queen thing that she had going on.  Maybe it was knowing she was a cop.  Hell maybe it was one of those, 'Ilsa she woff of the SS'  type things that that she had going on.  She was interesting looking if not beautiful.

She looked as though she could take care of herself and I liked that.  She had blonde hair but I would bet a months retirement check that it came from a hairdressers witchcraft.  Her teeth looked too perfect.  Caps, I thought.  Jillian was tall for a woman, not six feet tall but at least five eight.

I watched her as she made coffee.  We had exchanged names in the car, but she seemed to have already had my name.  "So Jillian, do you make a habit of bringing strange men home."  Lest she think it was a judgement thing, I hurried on.  "Seems like a good way to get killed."

"I checked you out first Mike.  I'm not stupid just curious."

"Oh how did you do that.  You haven't seen any ID."  I wasn't all that surprised but I played along.

"Campground registry from this morning.  It has all kinds of info.  A couple of calls and I know quite a lot about you.  Not all there is to know I'm sure, but a lot.  Don't be surprised if your daughter calls to tell you some strange women called."

"She won't call me, we don't have that kind of relationship.  But tell me why you bothered?"

"Started out as an inquiry to see if I needed to keep an eye on you.  After that I was curious.  A grown up, working aged, man riding on a toy and sleeping in a garbage bag, of course I was curious."

"You could have just asked me."

She had a harsh laugh.  Everything about Jillian seemed harsh.  "If I wanted to be lied to, I could have asked."  She had a point.  I had spent a lot of years lying about everything.  

"If you are still curious, you are going to have to ask.  You might have found out that I never did time for killing anyone, but you can't know everything."

"Oh, I'm going to find out and you won't even know you are telling me."

Fat chance, I thought.  By that time the coffee was ready.  "Now that is good coffee," I admitted.  "Much better than anything I can make."

"Mike, it's just supermarket coffee made in a ten dollar coffee maker.  You can try to make it sound gourmet but it's still supermarket coffee.  You don't have to flatter me Mike, the decision has already been made and it wasn't yours to make."

I wasn't sure we were thinking along the same lines, but I smart enough to know when not to ask more.  "Okay moving right along, what exactly are you curious about?"

"For one thing, why didn't you punish the town bully when you had him down?  We both know you could have."

"I didn't want to draw any attention from the local cops to be honest."

"Well that sure as hell didn't work.  When the self appointed town's bad ass wants to file a police report, it draws a lot of attention.  Usually he is the one we are hauling off to jail in cuffs."

"So why aren't you hauling me off in cuffs?"

"Ah Mike, the night is young."  She laughed that harsh laugh again.  

At that point I became curious. I was also glad that I had taken that shower.

Making love with Jillian Holt had been like fighting a war.  Lots of action but no real winners.  Jillian was enthusiastic but all hard edges.  It was exhilarating but not really a satisfying experience.  I mean that in an emotional way, not a physical one.  In the physical sense she was all a man could ask from a prostitute, but I tend to expect more somehow from a lover.

I woke up on one edge of her king sized bed.  I was just as far away from her as possible.  I don't think either of us planned it that way, it just happened.  I left her asleep while I went to relieve myself and use her mouthwash.  I had slept peacefully, something I seldom do, so it was a good experience overall.

I found her coffee from the night before, and her microwave.  I had two cups before she came into the room.  I was struck by her lack of emotion.  Jillian was one of those rare women who didn't seem to need the fantasy of love to enjoy the physical acts of sex.  She wasn't kidding herself that there was any more to it than just physical intimacy for a few hours.

"So Mike what do you have planned for today?"

"I thought you were doing the planning," I replied.  "Remember I'm on a vacation road trip.  I make no plans before their time."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"I have no idea.  I just plan not to plan."

"Then you can buy me breakfast and I'll take you back to the park."

"Sure, that sounds like as good a plan as any.  So you aren't working today?"

"No, but I have court at ten."

"Then you better move that skinny ass," I suggested.

She chose one of those chrome and glass pancake houses for breakfast.  Not a place I would have picked but the food was good.  After the fifteen dollar meal, she drove me to the park.  

"So when are you leaving?"  She asked it without any particular expression on her face.

"I expect I'll leave today."  I waited to see if she made any comment.

"Well be careful that toy is no match for a car."

"Believe me I realize that."  I smile over at her.  I couldn't decide if I needed to kiss her goodbye or not.  She solved it by looking at her watch.  I opened the door.

"Thank you for breakfast," she said seeming just a little embarrassed.

"Thank you for everything," I smiled over wickedly at her then slipped from the car.  I watched her drive away before I checked on the bike.  

It was right where I left it and everything seemed to be in order.  I spent the about thirty minutes packing the bike and tightening bolts.  I managed to get everything rolled up and into the basket, which was good.  Everything fit inside the basket except the blankets, which I had to tie on top of the basket with a bungee cord.  I all fit, I had to leave only the disposable items behind.

I rode the bike into the next town of any size.  It was about twenty five miles away but it had a library.  From that library I did my blog posting for the day, then I researched my next stop.  For the test I had decided to make a large circle around my hometown.  The next spoke of the wheel would end at Bedford.  Bedford was one of those sites that had a battleground park dedicated to battles from two different wars.  If there ever was to be another war, there might well be a battle there again.

On the way to Bedford I stopped at a smalltown drugstore.  I purchased a bag of cotton balls and a quart of rubbing alcohol.  Total of both purchases was about a buck fifty.  I had an idea.  It wasn't really an idea, it was a halfassed memory from a magician interest I had when I was about 12.  

I pulled into Bedford historic park about four in the afternoon.  Since I had lunch on the road I decided to pick up something for dinner at a convenience store after I settled in.

"Sorry if you don't have a reservation I can't help you," the ranger said.

"To be honest I didn't think in such a smalltown park I would need a reservation."

"You probably wouldn't any other time but there is a car show in town this weekend.  It's a really big deal."

"Man I have a motorbike out there I can't ride at night.  Is there anywhere I can sleep tonight I don't need much just a place to lay my head."

"You can try the Everette place down the road.  He sometimes takes in stranded campers.  I can't speak for Everette though, he is a real piece of work."

"Just give me the directions and I'll give it a try."  I knew damn well I would find a place to sleep, even it if was a field on the side of the road. 

I got about a hundred yards from the Everette dairy farm before I saw them.  Them being about twenty five small campering trailers parked along a dirt path leading off into a pasture.  I didn't think much of the place, but then I didn't need much.  I could see a couple of porta johns, so there was at least that.

I leaned the bike in a hard right turn into the drive.  The gravel drive led me to a brick ranch house.  I parked the bike on the edge of the drive.  A man in his forties came from the house to meet me.  I suppose he could tell from the bedroll tied to the top of the bike that I was looking to camp.

"Man you do travel light." he remarked.

"Regular Lewis and Clark kind of thing," I replied.

"Yeah got yourself and iron pony, but no pack horse."

"Had to eat him along the way."  I smiled then changed the subject.  "Do you have a bit of land I can borrow."

"Got a little space set aside for tents, would that suit you?"

"It would suit me just fine, so how much?"

"In your case five bucks a night will be enough."

I handed over a ten dollar bill from the roll in my pants pocket.  "Fair enough two days should be enough."  He nodded as he accepted the bill.  "So, I didn't see any stores on the way in, is there somewhere nearby I can pick up something for dinner?"

"You came in from the town park?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Then go back out to the road and turn right instead of left.  Then at the first stop sign turn right again.  That will take you out to the highway.  There are a couple of small curb markets there.  If you want a diner, then you need to turn left and go back past the city park."

"The curb markets will do for tonight."

"See that barn up there?"  I nodded that I did.  "There is a water facetted on the outside up there.  You can draw water from it.  The water is well water but it's clean."

"Thanks," I replied then turned away.

"You here for the car show?"

"No but since I'm here I might go to it.  When does it start?"

"Gonna be all day tomorrow.  Just go into town you can't miss it.  The whole town is blocked off."

"By the way the tent area is in that first clump of trees past the trailers.  Enjoy."

I waved since I was already on the bike with  my helmet in place.  I rode past the trailers and was a little surprised that most of them seemed to be small vintage 1950 type campers.  I went slowly since people were milling about.  I didn't want to run over some kid who might suddenly pop into the road.

I pulled the bike off the road and over the rough ground until I cleared the first row of trees.  I could see a volkswagen beetle of undeterminable age parked on one side and a military type jeep on the other side.  In front of each was a tent.  Very nice looking tents actually but both were a far cry from new.  I seemed to have slipped into a time warp.

The man in front of the bug was very close to my age.  When I stopped the bike he walked over to me.  "Dear God, what is that thing?"

"It's a motorized bicycle," I replied smiling.  I get asked that a lot.

"Where did you get it?"

"I built it from a kit.  I bought the kit on Ebay."  I must have said those same words a hundred times since I had built the toy.

"Very cool, so are you here for the show?"

"I am now, I hadn't intended to be but it looks like I am now."

"Well if there is anything you need let me know."

"Thanks, I'm going to be headed for the store in a bit.  Would you make sure my gear doesn't walk off while I am gone?"

"Sure just throw it beside my tent.  I'll keep on eye on it."

"I don't want you to have to be the site police so I'm gonna make camp before I go.  Just to reserve this space."  He didn't look all that convinced but he nodded.  

I set about gathering leaves and cutting twigs to make stuffing for my trash bag mattress.  I had two half full bags before I stopped.  Then I got really lucky.  I found a thin sapling about six foot tall just inside the tree line.  Bent it over to make the frame for my plastic bag tent of sorts.  When I finished, I had used the last of my black plastic bags.  I added that to my mental shopping list.  The tent was pretty secure looking so I decided not to sleep inside a garbage bag that night.  When my outside shelter was less secure I made a kind of sleeping bag from the garbage bags.

The Bug owner came over just before I left.  "Now that is american ingenuity," he observed.

"Well necessity and motherhood you know," was my reply.  To his credit he smiled and nodded. 

 "I'll have to keep that in mind in case I ever need to travel even lighter."

"So don't let anyone take my spot while I am the store?"

"You bet, I'll guard it with my life.  Well maybe not my life but I'll tell everyone that the spot is taken."

The convenience stores were always a trip.  I could buy a pimento cheese sandwich for two bucks or a half pound of pimento cheese and a loaf of bread for four.  The problem was I had no way to keep the cheese from spoiling and the bread would have to be thrown out when I left.  But since I planned to be on the site for a couple of days I did buy the bread.  Instead of the cheese I bought a couple of pull top cans of deviled ham and a tiny jar of pickle relish.  I also bought a small bag of cookies and two small cans of beanie weenies.  The cookies were not on my list of things to eat, but hell my calorie intake for the day was much lower than I had anticipated.  It looked as though I was going to miss at least one meal.

I arrived back at the campground just before dark.  I didn't plan to do more than make a sandwich for dinner, so I didn't bother to set up the stove.  I made a quick water run before dark.  The barn was within easy walking distance but the bike was out and warm so I rode over.  That little $13 basket was one of my better purchases.  I had managed to get everything I really needed into it and leave the cumbersome trailer at home.

I tossed a fruit tab in the empty coke bottle then poured in water.  It made a slight warm, but refreshing fruit drink.  I leaned against a tree with the radio playing softly in the background.  Some of the country songs seemed to capture the universal experience.  It was simply a matter of degree.  That night I was haunted by 'The Dance'.  "I could have avoided the pain, but I would have missed the dance," the singer sang.  It should have been whispered from a death bed.  It was a phrase that spelled out the end for men like me.  It wasn't really words to live by but rather words to justify one's misspent life.

"Hey there," The voice came from a man at least my own age,  He stood about ten feet away in the direction of the military jeep.

I stood before I spoke.  "Hello,"  I tried to be friendly and still be careful.  The well practiced attitude was from a lifetime of dealing with strangers.

"I got to give it to you, you sure know how to travel light."

"It's from necessity.   That and I don't need much."  I did extend my hand.  "My name is Mike,"

"Eddie Williams," he replied.

"Nice to meet you Eddie.  So I guess from the jeep that you are part of the car show."

"Not showing, she ain't ready for that, but I do come to shows all the time.  The jeep will be in a show one day soon.  The guy on the other side of you will have that volks in the show."

"It looks like a vintage trailer show down there," I said pointing to the sprawling line of trailers.

"Some of these guys take the shows as a chance to socialize.  The vintage trailers are just one more trapping of the vintage car circuit."

"Well they must all be mechanics to keep all that stuff working."

"Most of the ones I meet are half assed mechanics at least.  Some are real mechanics but not many."

"Well that is more than me.  My best tool is the cell phone and the list of numbers of tow truck companies.  When this thing breaks down, if I can't find a tow, it is push it to the top of the hill and ride it down.  Then do it all over and over again, till I get somewhere."

"How many times have you had to do that?"

"Actually none yet, but I try to plan ahead."  I was smiling by that time.  The little bike made me smile often.

"It really does fit with this show in a way.  You probably should paint the whole thing olive green.   I could almost see it as a retro army scout bike."

"I was thinking about going with the Captain America thing.  All red white an blue."

"That would be nice.  So what do you do Mike."

"I'm retired, I did my twenty five with the government."

"Military?"  he obviously was retired military.

"No just a civil servant."

"Ah," I could see his interest dematerialize.  "Well if you need anything just ask."

"Thanks, I don't have much but the same goes from yoiu."  I knew I had nothing he would want.

I fell asleep safe in the knowledge that my neighbors were not thugs or thieves.  I slept pretty well in the make shift bed.  Probably better than my neighbors since they slept on thin foam pads.  I had several inches of leaves and twigs between me and the ground.  It was also a fairly warm evening so the plastic tent, with both ends open, worked really well.  I woke up warm and dry.

I awoke after my neighbors.  As a matter of fact the sound of the jeep probably was the thing which brought me back to the world.  The volks was pulling out as I walked deeper into the woods to relieve myself.  I brushed my teeth and washed in cold water.  It wasn't the first time, but it wasn't something I enjoyed either.  

The bike started  right up and I went off in search of breakfast.

Breakfast that Saturday morning was inside the small town.  All the side streets were filling up with vintage cars.  There might be some parked on main street, but it could not be blocked off.  A numbered state road led down main street.  The town had one stop light which had been turned off since the cross street was filled with vintage autos.

The Main Street Diner was filled to capacity so I sat at the counter across from the grill.  I was given a birds eye view of the overweight woman cooking eggs as fast as she could go.   My eggs and sausage were very good, but then I had come to expect that of diner breakfasts.  I had toast since the biscuit of the man next to me crumbled in his hand.  I don't care for crumbly biscuits.

After breakfast I took a large go cup of coffee and went out to look at the cars.  Since I wasn't going far, I left the bike chained to the one hour parking sign in front of the diner.  It was almost on the sidewalk so I fully expected to see a car pulling in front of me when I returned.  I walked all the side streets gaping at the cars.  I wasn't alone even that early in the morning there were people out looking.

I found my neighbor's Volkswagon parked at the entrance to Church street.  Every small town in America has a church street and it always crosses main street.  That is were the Volks was parked.  

"So, is this one of the early ones?"

"It was made in the first year, possibly in the first run."  The man was proud of his car I could tell.

"Just looking at it how do you know?"  I asked it because I am curious, but also to give him a chance to show off a little.  He listed all the ways one could tell.  From the outside it was mostly the shape of the windshield and the rear glass that marked it as an early one.  It was absolutely restored to original condition.  

"I had to go all the way to Canada to find a replacement for the outside door handle.  It just crumbled one day."

"Sounds like a great deal of planning and effort to keep one of these cars going."

"Oh they run forever but everything deteriorates over time.  I'm just lucky to have it."  I wondered about that, but then I rode a homemade motor bike.  So who was I to talk.

Since I was an outsider, I had no idea who the locals were other than those working in the small stores along main street.  In an old time general store I bought a four way screw driver.  It looked a lot like a mini four way lug wrench but with screw driver tips.  I thought it would be a good replacement for my big interchangeable screwdriver in the tool kit.  It cost me a dollar but I was glad to get it.

It was impossible to waste more than an hour looking at the cars, which was probably why it was only a one day show.  I found my bike right where I left it, so I unlocked it and fired it up as I pedaled off.  With the engine running, I sped out of town at a blistering fifteen miles an hour.  I drove out to the city lake to do some coke bottle fishing.  I listened to my radio and tossed the coke bottle into the lake.  I caught and released a few fish, none of them were anything to write home about.  It was well after noon when I headed back to the Everett farm.  

The town was so small that I hadn't been able to add to my blog, but I did have notes.  Things which happened were pretty boring but I still kept my journal.

"Hey there,"  It was the male half of a middle aged couple who flagged me down.  They stood in front of one of the trailers parked along the dusty path.

I pulled the bike over but didn't immediately shut it down.  "Hi," I replied.  I just sat waiting to hear from them.

"We saw you last night then again at the car show.  What kind of bike is that?"

"It a junker from the thrift shop and a China bike engine."

"Where did you get it?"

"I put it together myself."

"You must live around here."

"Not to far.  I have been on a kind of road trip."

"Is that thing dependable?"

"It has been so far.  Most problems are related to the vibration and that cant really be helped.  I ride it about fifty to eighty miles a day when I go between towns.  I just re tighten things when I get where I am going."

"Well it looks like fun?"

"It is.  I'm doing a road journal on line, if you would like to read about the trip."  I have no idea why I told him that.  I guess because he seemed genuinely interested.  

"What's the address?" he asked.

After I left the man and his wife, I spent a quiet evening in the dark.  I had come to enjoy the nights without a fire.  I would also have enjoyed a campfire but they were just too much trouble.

When I woke Sunday Morning I made the snap decision to just go home.  I had tried out about everything I wanted to test.  I wasn't the first one awake or the first to leave.  All over the Everette farm people were loading up and hooking up their trailers.

The military jeep was gone already.  He must have left at the crack of dawn.  "So you leaving today as well?"  The voice belonged to the Volkswagon owner.

"Yeah, it's time for me to head home and make the final plan."

"Well I wish you luck with your toy there.  Man I don't think I would take to the road on that thing."

"Oh, it's not too bad.  I just have to stay off the main roads as much as possible.  And of course check everything three times before I leave."  At that moment I was tightening every bolt I could find.  

"Well good luck to you."

"Same to you and I hope you did well at the show."

"Oh I didn't win anything but I got a few oohs and aahs so I'm satisfied."

"Good,"  I said it trying to hurry him along.  I needed to concentrate on the bike.

I didn't stop for breakfast.  Instead I filled my tank and my spare gas bottle, then ate a cookie and drank a pint of chocolate milk.  I hoped that would hold me for a while.  I had no idea where I would find myself when the sense of starvation overtook me.  Oh course I didn't really need to eat again, god knows I could miss a couple of meals but I tended to get evil when I didn't eat.

I managed to find a convenience store with a lunch counter shortly after two in the afternoon.  It sat beside a major highway which I had to cross anyway.  The hot dogs were okay, but nothing special.  Everything else was pre made.  

"So you live around here?" the young woman who made my hot dog asked.

"About forty miles up the road."

"My goodness you going to ride the bike that far?"

"Well if it don't blow up I am yes."

"Well you are a courageous soul for sure."

"Or just plain stupid," I replied

After leaving the convenience store I opened the bike up on a winding county road.  It ran perfectly with hardly any vibrations.  Except to watch for the cracks and gravel I had little to do.  Even those things kept my mind occupied and alert.  It wouldn't take much to put me on my butt, that was for sure.

The homemade chopper style bike putt putted along without incident for almost the whole way.  Five miles outside of my hometown the bike just stopped.  I checked an found myself out of gas.  I had expected it so I wasn't exactly shocked.   I transferred the quart of gas from the spare bottle to the gas tank and roared off.

I pulled the bike up the drive way about five in the afternoon.  After I shut down the bike, I staggered into the house.  Yes staggered, the bike left me a little disoriented after a long ride.  There was nothing to unpack so I went right to a very hot shower.  I must have washed my hair five times before it felt clean.

After the shower I began thinking about dinner before I made any plans.  I wanted to be in for the rest of the night.  I called my daughter and her husband before I left for the restaurant.  Yes I took the bike to the Chinese restaurant.  It only seemed right.

I hadn't even ordered when the two men came in.  I knew it was a robbery before they said a word.  No I'm not a mind reader, they were each carrying a sawed off shotgun.  Those things can make an awful mess of a guy.  I had the most time of anyone to decide what I was going to do.  What I was not going to do, was to try to disarm them.  One man with one gun is a probably doable, but two, not a chance.  One just shoots you while you try to disarm one.  Besides the room was full of innocent people.  It wasn't my money in the register anyway.

I do hope you weren't expecting heroics.

One of the bad guys, a small nervous type with a trench length pump shotgun stood just inside the door.  He was keeping the room covered while a taller, heavier man went straight to the register.  He mumbled something I couldn't hear to the older cashier.  She immediately opened the drawer and stuffed money into a take out bag.  When she finished I expected them to turn and go.

Instead the bigger thug turned and approached one of the tables.  He shouted,  "Alright people put your wallets and your jewelry in the bag."  He handed the bag to a man then stepped back while they did it.  Once he had their valuables he moved on to the next table.  I looked up to check on the guard by the door.  He was even more nervous.  

The inside man went from table to table collecting whatever valuable the people had with them that night.  I didn't have much more than a few bucks, but I did have my plastic which would give them access to all my travel money.  The thought of meekly handing over my money didn't sit well with me.  Of course there was not a chance in hell I could disarm them.  To die over a few thousand dollars seemed stupid as well.

I was one of the last ones to be approached.  "You know what to do." he said to me.

"No," I said with as strong a voice as I could.

"Put your money in the bag or I'm going to kill you.  You do know this is a shotgun."

"I know.  I also know you aren't stupid enough to turn a nickel crime into the gas chamber one over ten bucks."

"You willing to die over ten bucks?"  He asked it more than a little surprised.

"I guess so, cause I'm not giving you the money and that shot is going to bring people running.  Now unless you want to die in the Raliegh gas chamber,  you need to move on to someone easier."  My knees were shaking and I knew it was no more than a 50/50 gamble either way.  

I watched as the resolve in his eyes turned to questions.  "Come one Big Boy, let's get the hell out of here," the one by the door shouted.  

His words broke the trance that Big Boy had slipped into.  I could see the urge to at least hit me with the shotgun in his eyes.  I forced a smile as if I had something planned.  I didn't of course, but he had already shown he could be bluffed.  He backed away from the table two steps then turned an walked quickly to the door.

He completely spared the table behind me which would have been the last one.  The thugs were out the door and gone within seconds.  I returned to my glass of iced tea while I waited for either my dinner, or the inevitable police grilling.  I was relieved that the whole thing ended without bloodshed.  I wasn't surprised, but I also wouldn't have been surprised to see it go south either.  Thugs are unpredictable.

The food never did show, but the cops did.  "So what's your story?"  A young detective asked.

"Not much to it from my point of view."  I told it just like it happened.  I also described the two men who held up the restaurant as if they were the James Brother robbing a train.

"So why didn't you just give them the money and let them be on their way?"

"Why should I.  It wasn't insured like the cash register."

"Just for curiosity how much money do you have,"

"Forty or fifty bucks is all."

"You put all these lives in danger for fifty bucks?"  He didn't seem to think I had done a smart thing.

"If they were going to kill people over fifty bucks, they were going to kill them to eliminate witnesses.  You either have a high regard for life or you don't.  If I had tried to take their guns, they might have shot me in a panic.  That's a far cry from shooting someone for ten bucks, you won't get anyway."

"That makes no sense.  I see people shooting each other all the time."

"Not like this you don't."  My patience was beginning to wear thin.  

I walked past a group of reporter on my way to a burger joint, when the cops finally finished with me.  Night had fallen while I sat inside the burger house waiting for everyone to leave before going back to claim my bike.  Since it was dead dark, I rode very, very slowly and down the main street.  I also had the front and rear blinker lights on.  There was enough light from the street lights to keep me in the road, but I couldn't make out all the pot holes so it was a rough ride home.
As you can probably imagine I had a difficult time sleeping Sunday night.  A close to death experiences, even one that minor, tends to made the body want to prove that it's alive.  I gave some thought to the rock hard cop, but dismissed the idea.  I managed to finally shut down my mind with an antihistamine capsule.  Twenty minutes later I was drowsy and ten minutes after that I was asleep.  The house seemed big and empty that night and even the next morning when I awoke after a long night's sleep.

I'm not sure exactly why I went out to breakfast that morning.  It could be because there were no eggs in the house.  All the real food had long since been consumed.  I wasn't replacing much of anything because I had no idea how much longer I would be staying.

Anyway, I rode the bike up to my wife's favorite restaurant for breakfast.  I was barely known there and then only as Marty's husband, he works over seas you know.  I noticed that when the waitress brought my coffee she stared at me but I really didn't pay much attention.  She was far too young to be interested in me as a man, probably just curious, I thought.  I had honestly forgotten about the night before.  Sleep had washed the memory away.

"Were you at Chin's last night?"  It was the owner's wife who was standing by my table.

"Yes, I was there."  I said it cautiously.

"Did you really refuse to give your money to the robber?"

"I suppose so," I replied looking up at her.  She was at least my age maybe a little older even.

"Why?"  I still couldn't get a read on her.

"Because it was mine for the keeping not theirs for the taking."  I could tell she didn't understand.  "Okay, I just didn't feel like it."

"You know they might have killed you."

"I didn't think they were the type or I wouldn't have done it.  If I had thought they were capable of cold blooded murder I'd have done things differently."

"You are lucky you guessed right," she really didn't seem to be very impressed.

"Maybe so,"  I said it to end the conversation.

"You could have gotten those other people killed."

That was the last straw.  I stood up, put two dollars on the table for the half finished cup of coffee, then walked out the door.  I'm a son of a bitch if I'm going to pay to be harassed.  Well I might if she was younger, prettier, and dressed in black leather.  Since she wasn't, she got to see my ass walking out.

I rode the bike to a fast food restaurant for a biscuit and coffee.  One thing about people who work in fast food, the seldom read the papers.  At least not before the breakfast shift.

I got home a little after nine and there was a phone message.  The message was from my son in law.  "You never cease to amaze me.  I can't imagine having the balls to say no to a man with a shotgun."

"Well at least somebody got it," I mumbled.

I had three calls from news media types that day.  One of them was even from one of the cable news shows.  It must really be hard to fill 24hours with important stories, I thought as I did not return any of the calls.

What I did do that day was clean and adjust the bike.  I removed the both chains then examined every link in both.  I adjusted the rear sprocket on the engine side before I greased the bearings on both front and rear wheels.  I would have torn down the motor but decided that was over kill.  I would most likely do more harm than good opening the motor's crankcase.  What I did do was to adjust the choke.  That was more than enough inside the motor work for me.

I put in a call to my step daughter about 11AM.  I had to leave word that we needed to talk, she was out on a call.  My daughter is a paramedic for a private ambulance service.  Her specialty is transporting nursing home patients.  I guess you would call her a geriatric specialist.  

While I waited for her to call back, I washed the bike.  I did it carefully since I didn't want to get the water into the carb or into the coil.  The paint job on the gas tank really needed to be done by a pro, but I just kept putting it off.  I put it off again that morning opting instead to touch up the faded flag emblem.

When the brat called I told her again to come get any and everything she wanted from the house.  I planned to put it on the market unless she wanted to buy it for half the asking price.  The house was mine but I planned to give her half the proceeds, then work my butt off to spend the rest before I died.

"I read about you in the paper this morning," she said very matter of factly.

"Oh and what did you think?" I asked.

"Nothing really, Tom was all impressed.  I told him that it was just you being you.  I bet you didn't even consider giving them your money and canceling your credit cards did you?"

"Never crossed my mind too much trouble."

"Yep, you just being you.  Nothing heroic about it."

You might guess by all the conversations with my step daughter that we are not real close.  There is no reason for the distance that I know of, but it just happened over the years.  Probably because I was in and out of her life so many times.  Her mother provided me with a base of operations, when I was in the country.  I provided her with a check.  

To be honest her mother provided me with a lot more than an address, but all that was between she and I.  As for the kid, she got a few extra bucks and a private school education.  When she went to college in the real world, she didn't much like it.  After one year with pretty good grades she dropped out.  A couple of years working retail at the mall convinced her to go back to school.  That time it was a tech school, which for her was the best possible school.  She made no choices.  It was just you take this on this day ect.  She worked best in a highly structured environment.

As for me any structure drives me crazy.  I worked best alone or at least in a small group with no plan except to succeed.  Most of the time failure was not a viable option, if I wished to see another sunrise.

I shook my head to clear all the useless musing and turned to my plan of attack.  I needed to sell the house.  Since I had no desire to make a killing on the house, it should not be too hard to do.  My first decision was who would actually do the selling.  

To make that decision I first got on my bike and rode the neighborhood.  I found what I was looking for within ten minutes.  A realtor's sold sign sat in the yard of a house a few blocks away.  I had seen a couple of for sale signs but I wanted a sold one.  Probably not a real indication of how hard the realtor worked but it would do for me.

I rode the bike home and made the call.  An agent called me back within the hour.  During that time I worked on my blog.  I began by explaining that the road trip was more than just a bike and a credit card.  In my case it represented a life changing experience.  Since a life changing experience required serious changes. it is not something or the faint of heart.

The realtor wasn't to arrive until after lunch, so I decided to have lunch at my favorite restaurant.  My wife had hers near the house and I had mine a few miles away.  My favorite restaurant was a hot dog joint downtown.  The story was that the hot dog place had been in the same location for several decades when a new owner bought the row of buildings.  He went to the bank to secure a loan to buy and improve the property.  

Only one bank would loan him the money and it came strings.  One of the strings was that he could not raise the rent on the dog house.  He could not force them to change the inside other than to meet building codes.  In other words the Dog House stayed just as it had always been.  The strings were not a gentleman's agreement, they were written into the contract.  One forced change and the outstanding balance of the loan came due immediately.

I can't prove any of that, but it is an urban legend that is not disputed in my adopted home town.  The dog house has one of those pseudo turn of the century yuppie style exteriors.  Inside it is pure 1930s greasy spoon.  I sat at the counter because nobody sits at a table unless you are a party of four or more.  No exceptions are made for anyone, not even the bank president.   

That day I had my dog sitting between a receptionist and a stock broker.  There isn't a lot of conversation because dawdling is discouraged.  If you look up from your plate someone will take your ice tea glass.  These people do one hell of a business.  

After my lunch I rode around the downtown just enjoying the spring day.  Okay I was enjoying the sight of the professional women scurrying around.  Most had packages and envelopes in their hands.  Off to make a delivery, I supposed.

The sight of the women, in tight skirts and heels, with arms full of manila envelopes and packages sparked a memory in me.  I had seen a movie once about bike messenger in New York City.  There had never been such a service in the south because of the long distances between offices.  With these little motor bikes such a service might well be possible.  I would have to give that some more thought while I was bumming around.  The rolling stock would be inexpensive as would the overhead.  Those were the only two items that really factored into the business.  I knew for a fact that noisy little bikes could easily be their own advertisement.  A bike, a cell phone and you were in business.  It was food for later thought no doubt.

Oh well a thought for a different day. I had real estate and agents on my mind that day.  I got home half hour before the appointment.  The house was empty and probably had that closed up smell.  It was a warm day so I threw open the windows.

"Well Mike it's a lovely old house, but in a declining neighborhood."  Ruthie was trying to sound very professional while she let the air out of a seller's balloon.  I'm sure every prospective seller thought his or her house was worth considerably more than it actually was.  What she didn't know was that I was more interested in getting rid of the albatross than in making any money on it.

"So what's your guess?"

"I would say around a hundred.  That's a top dollar guess."

"How about to sell it the first month?"

"Eighty nine, I would think," she replied.  "If you really want to sell, I know an investor who will give you maybe seventy five for it without even going on the open market.  I still get my fee though."

"I'll tell you what, you get your investor to look at it and I'm going to call that House Doctor guy whose sign is everywhere.  I'm going to get an offer from him.  If his offer isn't reasonable you can list it.  I'll certainly listen to your investor's offer as well."

Believe it or not the House Doctor came over within two hours.  He made some measurements then said, "You pay off any liens and taxes and deliver me a clear deed to the house, and I'll give you sixty nine thousand."

"Well I can give you an answer by Wednesday.  I want you to understand though there is another investor coming to look at it tomorrow.  I will weigh it all out and give you an answer on Wednesday."

"Well if you decide to go I have a lawyer I can recommend to set it all up."

"I'm sure you do, but I think I can find one myself."  I was absolutely sure I didn't want his lawyer touching the paperwork.  What I didn't tell him was that I would accept his offer if the other investor didn't come through with a better one.

After all that was settled, I made one more call to the step brat.  "Cindy, you really have to move on your mother's things.  I have an offer for the house and I'm going to sell to somebody and damn soon."

"What's the rush?"

"I want to be living somewhere warm, by fall.  The house has to go and so do the furnishings.  If there is anything of your mother's you want, you need to move now.  I mean like within two weeks."

"You are moving that soon?"

"I might be yes."  I couldn't have moved any faster unless I just gave everything away.  I was sure in the end some things would wind up at good will or the landfill. "Cindy, I'm serious you need to come over this weekend and pick up everything you want or at least mark the furniture.  I am going to have an auction company come in on Monday and set up an auction of everything you don't want."

"Alright, I'll get Tom and we will come over on Saturday."

"Good let me know what time and I'll make coffee," I volunteered.

"I'll call back later."

Tuesday morning came in like a lamb.  The temperature was 59 degrees at 9 AM so I rode the bike to the small shopping center near my home.  I pulled the bike trailer with the larger, deeper basket attached.  I rode the bike gingerly on any given day, on that one I was positively paranoid.  

Since I figured to be home at least a week, my shopping list was much longer than it had been when on the road.  Eggs and large bottles of soda headed the list.  Fresh fruit, and cans of veggies shared space in the trailer.  I had the trailer pretty well filled, so it was a good thing that the bike's engine was warm.  I couldn't get up a lot of speed with the pedals.

I made it up the one hill, between the shopping center and my house, but only because it had a long slope to spread out the rate climb.  I happily unloaded the trailer outside the house.  Happy because I had the onus chore of shopping completed.

I moved the trailer inside my shop first, then the bike followed.  I never left the bike outside the house.  As the realtor had put it, the neighborhood was transitional.  That simply meant from one moment to the next one never knows what might happen.  I preferred that my bike not be the victim of a crime.

I worked on my blog until the realtor called to make the appointment to show the house to her investor.  Since the appointment wasn't until after lunch, I decided to have a bowl of chili.  I had never found a decent canned chili but I had discovered how to easily make one.  Of course it was impossible to make a small amount even the quick chili I made.  The proportions of the ingredients were all wrong.

I had bought everything at the store that I would need to make a half gallon.  If I was home two weeks it would be okay, but one week and I knew that I would have to toss some of it at least.

Fortunately the house was still filled with all my wife's pots pans and dishes.  I knew for sure they would be going soon.  If not to Cindy then to the auction or the landfill.  In the meantime I could make a few last meals in the house.

My chili is simple, three cans of pinto beans, one can of hot dog chili sauce, and one small jar of salsa.  Heat the beans first in the microwave, then the chili sauce, then add the salsa and heat the whole thing yet again.  It makes a chili better than any from a can and probably as good as some restaurant's chili.  It's not quite as fast as opening a can of chili and microwaving it but it's damn near the same thing.

I had a bowl of the chili and a few Ritz crackers for lunch.  I expected to pay for the chili that afternoon, since I have an old digestive system.  Still, I figure once in a while a shock to the gut isn't all that bad.  

The investor showed up with a couple of helpers around three.  They ran the water and looked at the electrical panel.  They checked out the sills and the floor joist.  Since I had no attic opening, they couldn't check that out.  They did ask a lot of questions.  I was happy to answer all that I knew.  Not much I could tell them about the local schools since my kid had never gone to one.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow," the bald slightly chubby investor suggested.

"That's fine but if you can't call by noon don't bother.  I have an offer and noon tomorrow is my deadline to answer.  I will take it, if I don't get a better offer from you."

"Oh what is the offer you have?"

"Sorry, that's between me and the buyer."  I said it smiling.

"Then maybe you better take it."

"Works for me," I said that as I showed him the door.  He didn't realize that I probably wouldn't live long enough to spend the money from the sale of the house no matter how much it was.  I was trying to get as much as possible for the kid's half.  I could take anything for my share.

"Look, since I took the time to come out, you kind of owe me a chance to make an offer."  He was a bit more conciliatory.

"Noon tomorrow is plenty of time.  Actually with the internet you will probably have a figure by end of day but I'll give you till noon.  But let me warn you at noon exactly I made a decision, with or without your offer on the table."  It is much easier to negotiate when you don't much care what the outcome is.
Later that night after I cooked my own dinner, actually I reheated the chili, I sat down to watch TV.  There were a few crime dramas that managed to hold my interest.  I passed right over the home improvement, decorating and cooking shows that seemed to fill the cable networks.  Lots of cheap insipid programming is how they should advertise themselves.

In the end I wound up on the computer.  I stopped in to visit with the people who had helped me get my bike running.  I posted a long thread on the forum where they all hung out.  It detailed how the bike was doing after having added over a thousand miles inside of three weeks.  

It was after midnight when I settled into my soft warm bed.  I slept very well that night.  Of course I wasn't surprised.  After a week filled with bags of leaves for a mattress it was a great improvement.  

Breakfast was an egg scrambled then cooked in the microwave.  Then placed on a hamburger roll with cheese. It made for a good filling and best of all easy breakfast.  I turned on the morning news since I no longer took the newspaper.  After fifteen minutes I determined the world hadn't changed much in the last year or so.  Probably not in the last half century.

The phone rang.  I hurried to answer it since I wanted to settle the house sale immediately.  "Hello,"

"Mr. Burke," the female voice asked.

"Yes, I'm Burke,"  I thought it might be someone from the realty office.

"Hi, I'm Sheila Edwards, you might have seen me on the local news."  When I didn't reply she went on.  "You know TV 8 News?"

"Sorry I never watch the local news."  It was true nothing in the town had ever interested me.  Probably because until the last year I was seldom home.  During the last year I didn't have time for the local news.  Things outside my house were of no interest to me.  With the exception of my wife's treatment, I had become a hermit.

"Do you know why I'm calling?"

"I have no idea why you are calling so early."  I added the early quite pointedly.

"Because you don't return your messages.  I hoped to get you before you left for the day."

"Well you did," I didn't explain that I planned to be answering my phone until noon at least.  After than I might go back to ignoring it.  "So now that you have me, what exactly is it you want to discuss."

"The armed robbery at Chin's of course." she said warming to her subject.

"Why, the cops have all the details?  I can't add anything to that."

"You can tell me why you didn't just go along."

"Actually I can't explain that.  I just couldn't see myself giving some punk kid access to my life.  The cash was insignificant, but the credit and bank cards are not. Now you have your reason and I'm expecting any important call."

The door bell rang  just as I broke the connection.  I moved to answer it thinking that too much was going on for so early in the morning.  The middle aged woman I saw through the door looked harmless enough.  If I had known the truth, I would never have opened the door.

I stood in the doorway until she spoke.  "Hello, I'm Sheila we just spoke on the phone."

"Yes?"  I wasn't going to make it easy for her.

"I would like to interview you on camera.  Just say the same thing you said to me.  You know it would help your image.  People think you are some kind of nut at the moment."

"Hon, I don't give a damn what people think, plus most people have already forgotten that incident.  Now you just run along and let me do the same." 

"Come on, it would be a good human interest story."

"Sweetie, I have no interest in it and I'm barely human."  I thought it was a nice turn of phrase.

"If you give me ten minutes, no one else will bother you."  

"No one else is bothering me now.  You run along now."  She was young enough so that I could treat her like an impudent teenager.  She turned away without saying goodbye.  I didn't mind at all.

The call came just before noon.  The deal was struck at 70k.  It was agreed as part of the deal that I would be out thirty days after the signing of the contracts.  I would pay $500 for one month's rent beginning on the date of closure.  Since we agreed to close in ten days, I have forty days to get rid of the funiture and decide where to go.

I put a sign on my old Ford and parked it in the yard.  Then I made a call to the auction house where I had bought several cars over the years.  They agreed to have a buyer come around and arrange for an auction at my home.  They would sell everything to the bare walls, that kind of  auction was the only way for me to go.  I had no desire to peddle things over the course of weeks.  Better to just have the auction and let the people get a good deal and get me out of town quick.

The old Ford was one step from a junker so it sold that same afternoon.  I have to explain that I live on one of the busiest streets in our town.  Well the busiest residential street. It connects several business areas of town but it is residential for the most part.  A hell of a lot of People see my house and whatever I have in the yard.  That's about all it takes to sell my junk because I price it all for quicksale.  I always have done it that way.

It was five o'clock and the Ford was in it's new home when the knock came on the door.  Since I had nothing for sale I was in no hurry to answer it.  When I did get there, I found Sheila the reporter with a camera man beside her.  

"What now?"  I asked it in a annoyed tone.

"Just wanted to get your reaction to the latest news."

"Why?"  I asked that more confused that angry.

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"You are being sued."

I laughed.  I honestly thought she was joking.  "You are kidding right?"

"No one of the customers in the restaurant was a lawyer.  He is sueing you for putting his life in danger.  He wanted to have you criminally charge."

"Well I wish him luck, I have nothing."

"He is only sueing you for a hundred dollars.  He says it's the priniciple."

"Most likely it isn't the principle it's the publicity.  Let him sue.  I'm retired I have nothing better to do than go to court."  What I didn't tell her was that I would be off the grid in a few days.  After that he could sue till hell froze over but there wouldn't be anyone to answer his complaint.

"So you aren't going to take it seriously."

"Not in the least.  If some pantywaist lawyer wants to show the world that he is a wussy, that's up to him."  I threw that in knowing it was a stupid thing to say, but not really caring.  Like I said I planned to be long gone before he could get me before a judge.   

"Thanks. I got my statement after all."

"Good nothing like a little ambush journalism to make the career pick up.  Now get off my porch before I shove the tape recorder up you pretty ass."  I turned my attention to the cameraman.  "You to junior, I doubt that you want to wear that camera as a hat."

"If you invite me in and give me an in depth interview, I will edit this so you don't look like a clown."

"No thanks, all us retards love the circus."

She finally got the message that I was going to throw her off my porch if she didn't leave.  She and the cameraman beat a hasty retreat to the SUV.  They were backing out the drive before I turned back into my house.

An hour after they had gone, I rode my bike through the take out window of a burger joint near my house.  Bag O Burgers was my kind of place.  It was cheap, it was fast, and it was full of animal fat.  What more could a fat man want.

Wednesday, Thursday and even Friday all ran together.  It was a constant round of feeding myself, and searching the internet.  The auction was set for the second Saturday from the Auction house buy's visit. It give them just enough time to advertise the auction and get someone out to organize the items for sale.

I spent the next three days cleaning and emptying drawers I hadn't personally opened in years.  Some of them I had probably never opened before that week.  My step daughter came over twice to sort through her mother's things.  I wanted her to do that, since they were the closest of us three.  In exchange she packed up her mother's clothing to donate to the Goodwill Store.

On one of those days I sorted through the bedding.  I kept the sheets and blankets on my bed and donated the rest.  All except for one of those light weight blankets with the thermal weave.  I thought it might make a good bedroll blanket for the road.  It had been purchased for the stepdaughter's small bed so it was likely the best size.

Since I was carrying the bedroll, I bought a luggage rack at the bike store.  I couldn't find one to fit correctly so I spent part of one day making the rack fit my custom (homemade) bike.  I had so many small crappy details to take handle that I was in constant motion but seemed to be spinning my wheels at every turn.  Nothing appeared to be moving forward, even though it really was.

When the weekend rolled around, I decided that I needed a break from all the work.  I  loaded the bike so that I could just pull out on Saturday morning.  I had decided to go spend Saturday night camping at the city park in a small town about forty miles away.  It should be no more than a three hour ride, so I planned to just spend the one night.  With that in mind, I carried all my own supplies.  I was simply trying out some new ideas on the trip.  I had nothing at all planned.

Breakfast was on the road.  I stopped at a fast food joint for a biscuit and coffee.  While there I lifted several packs of jelly from their "fixin'" bar.  After the burned animal fat I headed out of town.  The ride was beautiful as they always were.  Something about riding down a country rode wide open, and still being able to see every detail as it passed was always amazing.  No matter how many times I did it, I could never get enough of it.

Even the Saturday traffic didn't seem too bad.  Since it was mostly confined to the rural housing developments, which were few and far between on the route I took that morning, I didn't mind it at all.  

There were clouds in the sky when I left home.  The weather forecast had been for partly cloudy but very warm.  It was proving to be mostly cloudy but it was indeed warm.  I enjoyed it all, even the sometimes dark feel of it.  I could have used a spooky old cemetery about that time to make the mood complete.

I passed a convenience store called Parkside so I knew I was close.  I pulled into the park just before noon.  It had take me almost five hours to do the forty miles.  Mostly because it was pretty hilly and the little bike didn't like hills much but also because I had stopped for long periods along the way to just rubber neck.  I decided at that point it was time to get one of those fancy new digital cameras.  I was seeing a lot of things that would be nice on the blog.  There sure as hell enough of them on the market.  There were lots of small lightweight ones as well.

The park ranger on duty was a man about my age, oh hell he was a little younger but probably ready to retire.  He was more bored than anything else.  He handed me a list of rules then gave me my space assignment.  I gave him seven bucks for the night.  

After having seen the sky darken all day, I asked.  "If it rains is there anywhere I can take shelter?"

"There are some picnic shelter scattered around the park.  If it rains later this afternoon, they won't be used,  Just keep your space receipt to show the ranger when he checks."  

"Thanks, that sounds good."

"You can't be pitching not tents under there but you can get in out of the rain.  Oh yeah and no fire inside the shelter.  Fires are only allowed in the fire pits and they are all outside."

The last was probably meant to discourage shelter use except in a true rain event.  I didn't mind, since I had run many a cold camp before.  Of course I had a few tricks up my sleeve, if I needed them.

"I found the space that was no more than a five inch raised tent spot at the end of a path from the road.  It did have the fire pit. Which was actually not a pit but an iron grill on a short post.  I removed everything from the bike and slipped it into one of the large black plastic trash bags left over from my last camping trip.  I put it behind a tree, then drove off to the store.  I needed nothing really, but thought I might be able to find a microwave and frozen pizza at the store.  

The convenience store proved to be nothing more than a beer, bait, and tackle stop.  Since I didn't really need much so it was fine.  Oh yeah they did sell hot dogs made on the spot.  I expect those sold very well with the fishermen.

"So how's business?" I asked it of the teenager behind the counter.

"Business is good today.  That old myth about fishing on cloudy days always makes our business good."

"Well I'm no serious fisherman, so I'll just take two of your dogs all the way and a bag of chips."  I already had a plastic bottle of coke in my hand.   Since she didn't seem to be the chatty type, I looked around while she fixed the dogs.  The place had some pretty neat lures and they were inexpensive.  I picked up a small fish looking thing for three bucks.  I figured it might beat looking for bait when I went coke bottle fishing.

I had the dogs and chips on her picnic table in the parking lot.  It looked more and more like rain all the time.  Partly cloudy had taken a definite turn for the worse.

It did indeed rain that night.  It wasn't a storm with gully washer intensity, just a nice steady slow soaking rain.  The kind that makes one think it might never end.  I fell asleep under the picnic table on the hard concrete.  It was not a restful sleep.  I could hardly wait for the rain to stop but I sat looking out at the miserable drizzle until almost noon the next day.  At the first real sign of the sun, I took off for home.   I didn't stop to eat until I was absolutely sure the rain had quit.  

It was late afternoon when I arrived at my house.  I slipped into the back door and then into bed.  I slept hungry again that night but I was just too tired to even make a sandwich.

When I awoke on Monday morning, I felt much better but I had also learned a valuable lesson.  It would not always be sunny and dry on the road.  I was going to have to make a better plan than simple garbage bags.  The garbage bags would be part of the plan for sure, but there had to be more to it.

I wracked my brain as I worked on getting the house emptied of everything not on the auction list.  Several of my personal items I packaged up and shipped to my brother.  We hardly ever saw each other, but I figured if I ever wanted them back he would have them.

The rain issue haunted me all day.  I kept asking myself what would I have done if the park hadn't had those picnic shelters.  The answer was simple, I would have found some kind of shelter and sat huddled against a wall somewhere.  I gave it some more thought and decided I had to make room for a real poncho.  I could probably find a really light weight one.  I knew they made a nylon one that hikers use.  I could make a little tent of it with me inside.  Just my face would be exposed and I probably could even fix that.  

I went on line to order one from a well known hiking gear site.  I had time to get it to the house before I had to leave.  I was learning more and more about being on the road.  I caught up on the blog that day as well.  Monday was just a goof off nothing happening day.  That is till I got the phone call around six.

"Mr. Burke, this is Sheila.  Don't hang up I want to apologize for chasing you all over town."  I knew there was more she wasn't the type to apologize.

"Okay you have apologized, now what?"

"You are about to get a call from the Martin Alexander." she informed me with a certain excitement in her voice.

"Now who is Martin Alexander, and why would he call me?"

"He owns most all the substandard housing units in at least two towns.  At least two huge apartment complexes that specialize in section eight vouchers."  I didn't know exactly what that was but I had an idea.

"Why would a slumlord call me?"

"He wants to offer you a job.  Something to do with security."

"Thanks for the heads up but I'm not looking for work.  I'm about to leave town."

"I know, I have been doing some checking.  You sold your house and are auctioning off the contents.  So where are you going."

"I haven't a clue yet.  I'm still researching that."

"Then take the job." she suggested.

"I don't want a job.  I especially don't want a security job involving his kind of customers.  I am not into violence."

"You were," she remarked simply.

"That was a different me and a long time ago."

"Fourteen months is not a long time ago."

"I see you have done your research.  It is in that business.  Fourteen months can be several lifetimes."  I quickly added before she could go on.  "Why exactly all the interest in me?"

"You did something no one else in that restaurant could do, then you tried to downplay it.  There aren't many people who would pass up the chance to be a hometown hero on the local news.  Even fewer would refuse to talk to the national newies."

"Yeah well I probably should have given you your ten minute interview."

"It isn't too late you know."

"Bring a pizza and a six pack of beer and leave the camera at home and I'll talk.  But only if you can call this Alexander person and tell hiim not to waste his time calling me."

Alexander did waste his time calling and he did it before Sheila and the Pizza arrived.

"Hello," I said into the phone.

"Mr. Burke this is Martin Alexander."

"I was told that you might call.  What can I do for you?"

"I asked some questions about you so I'm not surprised that you got a heads up."

"I have no idea what you want with me Mr. Alexander but I am retired."

"I'm aware of that and I am also aware of what you did before you retired.  You have a skill I think I can use.  One I'm willing to pay well to get."

"The only skill I have is surviving and that is done by avoiding situations like I'm sure you want to put me in."

"Oh what do you think I want you to do?"

"The word I got was security for your enterprise."

"Well not exactly but there is some of that involved."

"To be honest, I have no desire to work at anything.  I'm headed south just as soon as I can get my house and the contents sold."

"How about we just have a sit down and talk about this."

"I'm going to have pizza and beer with Sheila Edwards.  If you would like to come join us feel free, otherwise I don't really have time."

"You do know she is a reporter." he suggested.

"Of course I know, I also know you are either a source for her or she is for you.  Either way no since her learning about all this third hand."

"Okay but I'll bring the pizza and beer."  I didn't bother to tell him Sheila was bringing it.  You can never have too much cold pizza in the frig. 

Two hours later the three of us were sitting around my kitchen table.  The kitchen table was a bit cramped but the dinning room table was covered with boxes filled with items to be sold at the upcoming auction.  There were two pizzas on the table.  One was from Pizza Hut and one from some yuppie restaurant.  In my frig there were two six packs of beer.  Bud from the Hopinn and some specialty beer from the same yuppie joint as the pizza.

I frankly couldn't tell one beer from the other but I definitely preferred the pizza hut version over the one that an only a passing acquaintance to any pizza I ever ate before.  All the introductions and pleasantries were done by the time we sat down to the pizza.  There was grease, beer and serious talk in the wind.

"Okay so this is off the record Sheila?"

"Sure Martin, you know I keep my word.  If I write anything it will be about Mike not you."

I sat quietly while they set their rules of engagement.  "So what is all the mystery about?" I finally asked.

"A bunch of thugs is scaring hell out of the little old ladies in one of my complexes."

"Call the police," I suggested.

"I have and it does no good.  They are just harassing the good tenants trying to make them move I think.  The police gang squad thinks it is a move to consolidate turf."

"So evict them."

"These guys have one of those sleazy lawyer types.  Every time I try, he comes up with some defense."

"Okay, so you can't get them arrested and you can't get them evicted, what is it you want me to do?"

"Clear them out."

"How many of them are there, and where do they live?"

"Eight or ten at the most.  They live in three different apartments."

"Remember me telling you my only skill was surviving.  If I were to get involved in this, it would be against my instincts.  This is just something the police and your lawyers should handle."

"You get those thugs out of there and you can name your own price."

"Half of everything you own."

"Are you mad?"

"I see.  I can't really name my own price after all."  I smiled as I returned to my pizza.  It was kind of nice not to need money.  I planned to just bum around on my pension for the rest of my life.  I didn't need his job or his money.  Alexander didn't seem to understand.  People who are into making money can't really understand those of us who aren't.  But then I never understood why a man would put off having fun till he was too old to have any.  But that time was at least ten years down the road.  Come to think of it, it had always been ten years down the road.

"Surely there is something you want?"

I thought about it a few minutes.  I couldn't think of anything but I liked the challenge of denying the bad guys sanctuary without actually killing them.  I has spent a great deal of my life doing just that, but without the restrictions.  My mind didn't hold a thought very long, so the most resent possible plan was based on the image of the women in high heels carrying small packages downtown.

"Now that you mention it there is.  If and when I settle somewhere, I want you to bankroll me in a new business and send experts to get it started."

"What kind of business?" he asked.  He had no intention of giving me a blank check.  I hadn't expected him to do that."

"Just a little bike messenger service somewhere in the sunny south."  I could see his brain working while he did the math.  I am sure he could make a good ballpark assessment of the start up fees.  "And the cost of this operation of course."

"You aren't going to kill anyone are you."

"No, worst case we do a few months probation.  We might get a citizens citation for taking out the trash at the same time."

"Alright done."

"I want it in writing.  Call it a consultation fee, but I want it in writing.  And I want your personal check for the expenses.  That part doesn't go through and corporate account."  I'm not sure if he realized it or not, but he was laying a paper trail which would be impossible for him to deny later.

Sheila had sat quietly through all of it.  She was part of the plan whether she liked it or not.  I had no idea how Alexander had her in his pocket but she was going to be part of the cover up.  She was no dummy, she knew what she was doing.

"Do you know how you are going to do this?  You aren't going to kill them are you?" she asked.

"I'm not going to harm a hair on their heads.  They will move out and Alexander has to find a way to keep them from coming back.  My only agreement is to get them to vacate those apartments.  If he lets them move back into other apartments, that is his problem."  I looked him in the eye when I said it.

"You get them out voluntarily and I'll keep them out."  Alexander was adamant about it.  "I am having a new lease drawn for all new tenants and they don't qualify under those  guidelines.  I can keep them out."

After they left together, I figured I had my answer to how he had her cooperation.  He had the oldest and strongest tie of all over her.  I sat down to work out the details but I put nothing on paper or on the computer.  

The plan was simple enough.  Create an environment that made the bad guys go somewhere else.  It was a pure military tactic.  Denying the enemy sanctuary dated back to the dawn of man most likely.  I'm sure it was done with fire at first.  It moved from there to mustard gas and advanced to agent orange, it you can call that an advance.

Regardless of your feelings about any particular war, the technique had always been a large part of the victory.  It was difficult in urban warfare.  Especially if you planned to occupy the territory yourself one day.  The neutron bomb had been a great weapon for that sort of thing, but it got banned because it made warfare too attractive.

There were some other alternatives.  Not at all lethal but very unpleasant.  Panama had shown how loud music and a laser light show could drive people out of their houses,   Unfortunately I didn't have weeks or the cooperation of the other tenants, so it would have to be something a little more limited.  In a military situation tear gas would have been the weapon of choice.  In my case tear gas might lead the cops to my door sooner or later.

Whatever I used had to be common enough for some other gang to have come up with on the open market.  It had to be reversible, it didn't have to be easily reversible, just reversible.  The plan was pretty simple once I decided on my method of denial.

An interesting thing about Tear Gas is that it isn't a gas.  It's a powder.  The fact that it is a powder explains the fire from the tear gas canister.  The powder mixes with the smoke and that's how it gets disbursed.  The fire is very dangerous so it is only used by the police when really necessary.

The army is a little more liberal in it's gas policy.  However the incident at Waco changed the military's mind set.  It no longer considers conventional tear gas as non lethal.  It now considers it's use against civilians as extremely dangerous.  

Some new canister's using compressed air and other propellants have been available for a while, but those are more in the form of a liquid propelled by a gas of some kind.  More like hair spray.  The are more an aerosol, than a gas.  However, given a chance to dry after use, and they revert to a fine powder again.  Mostly they need a pepper of some kind to act as quickly as military or even police tear gas, but they are available to any adult. Some are available even over the internet.

It took exactly four days from the plans conception for things to fall into place.  I rode the bike to a truck rental outfit.  Yes it was the one preferred by terrorist worldwide.  I loaded the bike into the back of the Ryder van.  I only needed it to hide the bike.  The bike made me stand out like a sore thumb.  The rider van would not be out of place in a large apartment complex.

I dressed myself in a workman's coveralls and carried a tool box filled with pepper stray in the crowd control size.  Why that size was available on the internet I have no idea, but I had it.  I showed up at the apartments around noon.  I chose noon hoping at least some of the thugs would be up and out moving around.  

The first of the three apartments got no response, so I picked the locks.  There was an extra lock.   I slipped into the apartment and checked to make sure no one was home.  I opened the tool box and began to put pepper spray on every bit of the furniture.  All the sofa's and chairs which really weren't much.  It took a full can which I had expected since I had a dozen, I set one off like a bug spray bomb in the living room and each of the two bedrooms.  

I closed all the windows on my way out.  I had been careful not to get the spray on myself but I was pretty sure I had some residue.  Still I soldiered on.  The next apartment I got a response.  I explained to the kid who opened the door that I was going to set off roach bombs and he needed to vacate the place for an hour or so.  Since I looked the part and had fake paperwork on my clipboard he went along.  I repeated the spray pattern of the first apartment.  The third was again empty so I shot it quickly then moved back to the van.  

In back of the van, I removed the jump suit then placed it in a plastic trash bag.  One from my camping trip was at hand, but I bought new ones anyway.  I had done the whole thing in plastic medical type gloves so I was pretty sure that I had left no prints in the apartment.  The bag was from a box of bags I had bought that morning.  I put the unused box of bags in the bike's basket.  I knew I could explain those away.  

The bag I used to put the jump suit into, I wasn't worried a bout since I had worn the gloves to handle it.  I couldn't see the cops doing a real crime scene investigation on such a petty vandalism complain,t but one never knows.  I dumped the plastic bag with the jump suit and watch cap which hid my white hair, into the big green box in the parking lot of a shopping center holding a goodwill store.  There were lots of other black bags just like mine filled with trash from various store in the shopping center.

I called Alexander at his office and then left a message.  Yes more paper trail linking him to me.  "I think you are going to need a real hard core cleaning at your apartment building.  If I were you, I would sue those sleazy tenants."

Right after I completed the little chore for Alexander, I went on line and purchased a used laptop computer.  It was a brand without a lot of hoopla but it seemed to be a good one.  At least according to their user feedback.  

The time just eased by as I did research and worked on a better trailer for the bike.  I kept my blog up but of course I didn't mention my little job for Alexander on it.  The house closing was uneventful to say the least.  I had the lawyer cut two equal checks for the proceeds of the house.  Even though her name was not on the deed, and she never put a penny into the house, I had one check made to my step daughter.

I'm not sure how, but the attorney I hired to work on closing my wife's estate assured me that the tax burden would fall on her not on me.  I didn't want to run afoul of the irs.  Even though I had next to nothing, those guys didn't care.  When they came after you, you were battered. deep fried. and plated.  In other words they had your ass for dinner.  I feared the IRS more than the local cops and at least as much as the FBI.

The auction was in progress when the laptop arrived.  The auction went very well.  I sold everything from the house including my desktop computer with a missing hard drive.  I kept the hard drive.  There were lots of interesting things on it which I would rather did not fall into the wrong hands.  

Sunday I rode the bike to the computer store nearest my house.  From them I purchased a couple of cables that allowed me to run the hard drive.  I just wanted to run it long enough to transfer a few files then it was going to the landfill but in parts.  I did the transfer and the demolitions on Sunday evening.

"So are you really going to move?"  My step daughter asked it when she picked up her check on Monday.  She almost never came to the house unless it was to get something, but she found time to run right over for the 38k and change.

I allowed her to take anything she wanted from the house without question, so I didn't figure she had any right to the auction proceeds.  Those I kept for myself, every little penny.

"Yes, I'm going to be leaving sometime next week.  I most likely won't be coming back."

"Well be careful, that bike doesn't seem very safe, or dependable."  She didn't even smile.

"It probably isn't." I agreed.  "But it suits me fine."

"Yes it does at that I suppose."  With those words she was gone.  I didn't expect that I would ever see her again.

All the appliances and the microwave went with the house, so I was able to feed myself.  I did have to eat standing up, since every one of my chairs was sold.  Even though the floor was carpeted it was hard as hell.  I wadded up a dozen old newspapers then stuffed them into garbage bags for a makeshift mattress.  It seemed as though I was camping out again, at least there was a roof over my head that time.   After a little adjusting I was able to use my internet connection with the laptop.  I did that standing at the kitchen counter.

After I had the trailer built I drove it around first, then I painted it.  The trailer had a 12 gallon size heavy duty plastic storage box permanently mounted to it.  With that I could carry all of the junk from the previous trips as well as a few more things to make camping less difficult.  Since it was being pulled by a bike. I still had to keep the weight down.  There were a lot of bulky items that weighed little, which I could carry though.

For the next week I ate well, slept well, and worked on the bike.  I replaced and packed the wheel and crank bearings.  I switched out the spokes to a heavier gauge wire.  When I reassembled the wheels, I replaced the tires with the new Kevlor ones and the tubes with the double thick ones.  In other words I did all the preventative maintenance I could think of.  Everything was ready to go on Friday but I chose to wait until Monday to leave.

On Sunday I made the hard choices about what to take and what to leave.  I had already packed up the few clothes I wanted Cindy's husband to ship to me.  I would have to give him a call to tell him where to send them when I was settled, if I ever was.  

Into my trailer went a spare pair of well worn jeans, three cut up sweat shirts, and some clean underwear.  I had purchased a hiker's nylon rain parka and 8x10 nylon tarp on line, both went in as well.  My water bottle and mess kit when into the trailer along with my slightly larger tool kit.  I added an extra spark plug, plug wire, an inner tube and two 3oz bottles of 2 stroke engine oil,  The oil I put inside a plastic bag with a one oz medicine measuring device.  In went a box of trash bags as an after thought.  The trailer was only half filled when I added the blanket I had been sleeping under on top.  It was rolled up inside another trash bag.   The bags had worked so well before that I saw no reason to buy a real sleeping bag.  I did add the remains of the 20' roll of heavy nylon cord to the mix.  My fishing gear minus the coke bottle went in as well.  The last minute items required me to remove the bedroll at least three times.  It was held in place with bungee cord so it wasn't too difficult to do.

The bike's luggage rack would be empty and the basket held only the 12oz bottle of emergency premixed gasoline.  I hoped, at least for the first few days, that I could just stop at the store on the way into the park and save the special trips I had been making.  The basket could easily hold my purchases for a single night.

Monday morning I was up before the sun.  I made a final pot of coffee in the machine, then stood at the counter to drink it.  Since I felt pretty good, I decided to make a biscuit run before I hooked up the road.  I even sat in their dining room while I ate.  She sun was almost above the horizon when I left the house.  I was sitting on the horizon when I finished the biscuit.

A half hour later I was on the road.  I rattled and shook and enjoyed the scenery for three hours before I came to a gas station.  I pumped exactly half a gallon of gas into the tank, then added 2 ounces of oil to the tank.  It was the best way to pre mix my gas and oil that I could figured.  

On the last leg of my eighty mile trip to the next campground, I pass about six bike riders all traveling together.  They looked like some kind of racing team since they all wore the same jerseys.  I wished that I had the body to just ride rather than need the motor but those days were long gone.  Still it was a lot more fun itting and watching the scenery roll by, rather than concentrate on not concentrating on the pain.  

I stopped to consult my map now and then but I was right on course each time.  I gave some serious thought to buying one of those GPS things.  I still might to that one day, I decided.

When I got to the city run campground just a hair over eight miles from home, I found the park almost empty.  I wasn't surprised it was a Monday after all.  The park ranger on duty was a woman.

"Check out is 1pm unless you want to pay for an extra day,"  She smiled knowing I wouldn't.  It was pretty obvious that I was on the move.  I had made the trip in really good time.  I made the 80 mile trip in just under six hours and that was stopping for lunch.  Since it was late spring there would be several more hours of daylight I decided to go fishing.  The small store about two miles away had a banner in front which read 'The world's best hot dogs'.  Yeah I know yet another world's best.  Since they had hot dogs, I had already decided to eat dinner there so I didn't need to go shopping at all.

After a reasonably good night's sleep, I headed out just as the sun was rising.  I turned on the blinkers on the bike since it wasn't very bright out yet.   The bike and I zipped along to the next stop on our way south.  Well the first stop was breakfast.  It turned out that the county road I was traveling on passed through a slightly larger than small town.  In doing so it ran along a state road which ran along a US highway for about a mile.  Those always made me nervous.  The traffic was heavier and the lane changes extremely dangerous.  I did manage to find one of those fast food places for a slightly late breakfast.

"I love your bike."  The words came from the male part of a college aged couple.

"Thanks," I replied over my Styrofoam coffee cup.

"Where did you get it.  I wouldn't mind having one of those."

"I built it from a kit and an old bike."  I replied proudly.

"It's way cool," the girl added.

"Thanks again," I was all smiles as the walked away.  That kind of thing happened about once a day.

Back on the road I shook and wheezed all the way to my next stop.  Even though it was less than a hundred miles, it was still well after lunch when I pulled into the state park.  The man behind the check in desk was about my age.  He should have been either retired and working part time or ready for retirement.

"Hello there," I said to get his attention.  

"Howdy, what can I do for you?"

"Need a camp space." I replied.

"I got lots of them, what you got?" he asked without looking up.

"I guess it's a tent space I need.  I actually camp under a tarp."

"Under a tarp, what do you do if it rains?" he asked.

"Motel," I replied.

He grinned, "A fair weather camper.  I knew there were a lot more of you than admit it."

"Well I will admit it no problem.  I do fine in the great out of doors as long as it isn't too uncomfortable."  What I didn't tell him was that I had slept many a night sitting up so as not to drown in the monsoon rains.  I did that when I had to, but I no longer had to do that kind of thing.

He handed me a map of the park.  On it he circled a space.  "It's the best space in the park.  So close to the lake we didn't build a concrete pad for those RVs."

"Good, I prefer my motel room not be on wheels," I grinned my tree hugger grin.

"Yeah but you got to admit Satellite TV would be nice."  He smiled as he looked through the glass door.  "Hey is that your stuff?"

"Yep that's mine."

"Well take it easy on that toy will you.  I'll be getting complaints about the noise."

"I'll do my best and I'll only be staying one night."

"Then that will be $7.50."

"I wish I could find places to camp that didn't have a fee.  $7.50 to use your bathroom and shower is a lot."  I smiled a conspirator's smile."

"Yeah, but costs real money to run this place.  And face it a shower is worth $7.50"

"I suppose you have a point.  But mostly it's a place for me to rest between rides."

"That too, nobody here going to mug you for that er er bike."  he smiled as I turned to leave.

"Hell, they couldn't get it started."  I said that over my shoulder.

I found a real grocery store in the closest town.  It was a six mile ride out and six back which sounds like a short distance unless you are on a motor bike that does 20mph tops.  I was gone a little over an hour.  When I returned, the trailer was right where I had left it.

The storage container had a small padlock which I had installed.  I opened the lock, then slipped the bag from the store into it.  Since it wasn't quite time for dinner, I rode down to the lake to try my hand fishing.  Nothing was biting so I returned to the campsite to make dinner.

Dinner was a can of pinto beans, and fried corn bread.  Not nearly as difficult as it sounds.  I bought a box of muffin mix.  I added the right amount of water and put it over the fire in the fry pan part of my boy scout mess kit.  When I thought the bottom was done, I added the plate part of the kit to the fry pan then flipped the whole thing over and let it cook some more.  It didn't look so great, but it tasted just fine.

 I wasn't a bit surprised to find that I was the only camper in the primitive area on a Tuesday.   I filled a couple of trash bags with pine needles from the ground around the site.  I placed them between the bike and the trailer, then strung my tarp over the whole area.  The bike and the trailer were the supports for the tarp.  It sagged but so what.  Unless it rained hard the tart would protect me.

I found a diner the next morning less than ten miles down the road.  The food was good and the people seemed friendly enough.  The waitress and the cook talked motor bikes with me while I had my egg sandwich.  I explained that I was traveling to a warmer climate.  

"So how fast does that thing go?" the just over teenaged waitress asked.

"Oh it will do about twenty five miles an hour top end on level ground.  Up a big hill, I could probably walk as fast."  I laughed.  "It's one of the reason I'm headed for the coast to make the run south."

"You are pretty much out of the big hills now," the cook suggested.

"Yes and none too soon for me either."

"I see from the bedroll that you are camping along the way."

"Yes and it is my biggest expense.  I don't even have a camper and the spaces are still almost ten bucks a night at least.  Some of them get to be more."

"I guess you are paying for the security as much as the bathroom," the cook suggested.  He seemed to have a handle on the camping thing.

"That is a fact, but at 5 hundred miles a week, it is going to be a lot of money down the drain."  I didn't want anyone to know that I had a couple of bucks.  I preferred not to have to fight off thugs all the way.

"When you get to the coast, there should be some fishing camps along the way.  You might can work a deal with the owners.  My boyfriend and I go fishing on our vacation and the cabins are pretty cheap.  Of course we share them with three or four other couples.  Not much privacy but it really is cheap.   No more than you are paying to pitch a tent and it is indoors."

"I wonder how I can find them.  I don't want to go driving around looking for a place while dragging the trailer."

"I bet you can google them on the net.  Hell everything is on google."  She had a point almost everything was available somewhere on the net.  At the end of that day, I would be pretty close to the coast.  I expected to cross into South Carolina around noon that very day.  

"By Friday I should see the ocean," I said to no one in particular.

"Good for you."  The cook turned away.  He had obviously lost interest.  I left the waitress a nice tip, then headed out the door.  In the parking lot I pedaled the bike to life, then carefully merged with the non existent traffic.  It didn't stay that way long.  Cars zipped past me all morning long.  I had been writing for my blog on the laptop all week.  I didn't find a public access spot until I passed a hospital.  On a whim, I pulled the bike over pulled out the laptop and checked.  The hospital was indeed a hot spot.  

I took fifteen minutes to check and answer my mail, and to make my post to the net.  Once I left the hospital parking lot, I headed on down the road.  I had forty miles to go before I reached the next campground. 

I stopped along the way for gas and lunch in a convenience store.  I had begun to eat my meals at off hours.  It made it much easier to stop when the traffic count was down, and the parking lots more or less empty.  I was within ten miles of the park when I saw a large hand lettered sign.  It said simply Camping.  I followed the directions to a second sign with an arrow pointing off to the right.

I pulled into what appeared to be a time warp.  Half the tents were crude bits of canvas stretched over some ropes.  Others were more modern brightly colored plastic bags hanging from aluminum poles.  I pulled to a folding table under a tree.

The man sitting behind the table wore a suit right out of the eighteen hundreds.  "You a participant, a vendor, or a tourist?"  He asked it with a smile.

"I have no idea what is going on, so I must be a tourist."

"Oh this is a civil war reenactment.  We are the overflow from the bivouac.  There are vendors who will be set up to sell to the re enactors and the family and friends who come to see it."

"So can a plain ole traveler get a tent space?"

"Of course you can.  You don't look like a trouble maker to me."

"I'm not, I'm just an old country boy trying to make his way to better climate."

"Then come up with ten bucks and ride down to the end of the line.  Just pitch your tent or whatever it is you have at the first open spot."  He chuckled at this remark.

It was a quiet afternoon.  Ther was no place to fish near the farm field turned campsite.  No bathhouse either but it did have two portajohns.  I wasn't crazy about the chemical smell but it was a place to relieve myself.  I didn't have a lot to do, so I played the radio.  The batteries were new so I figured it would last a while.  

The campground had something I had never seen before.  There was a kind of comradery that is only found among people with like interests.  Everyone except me was in someway connected to the reenactment.  Since I wasn't part of it, I was a little reluctant to join in the activities, such as they were.  One of the twenty something kids came by to invite me to use the her family's fire to heat my dinner.  Since I had only a can of beans and some frozen, but at that moment thawed, biscuits I thanked her.  It would save me having to fire up my little stove.

I found a time when the fire wasn't in use then carried my mess kit and food up to it.  I heated the beans in the small pot, and the biscuits in the frying pan with lid.  As I had done with the cornbread I simply flipped the pan to cook the tops after I was pretty sure the bottom was done.  Just as before everything cooked up well enough for me to eat it.  

Since there wasn't a tree to lean against I left the blanket rolled up and used the bundle to prop my back against while I ate.  After dinner I checked to be sure that there was not a wifi connection in one of the houses nearby and sure enough there wasn't.  I wrote my blog entry anyway.  I would just have to upload several at one time again.

I planned to spend the last two hours before dark reading.  I almost made it until the same post teenaged woman came by to invite me to the festivities.  Not at the camp in a field campground where we were but at the reenactment campsite down the road a couple of hundred yards.  It seemed like a reasonable thing to do, so I walked with her and her husband down the road.

It was pretty close to dark when we arrived.  It had taken a while for the two of them to get ready to leave.  There was a very large fire surrounded by men and women in civil war era dress.  They were standing in groups chatting away.  I felt out of place for a while.  Then someone broke out a fiddle and began to play.  Some of the re enactors began to dance.  Heck I even danced with one of them.  After that I joined in the discussions when I had something to say, which wasn't all that often.

Since the shindig didn't start till almost nine, it was well after midnight when it ended.  I was extremely tried when I arrived at camp space.  I didn't even notice anything out of the ordinary, I just slipped into my bedroll and slept.  When I awoke it was still dark.  I realized that it couldn't have been more than an hour since I fell asleep.  I tried to figure out what woke me.  It wasn't hard.

"The whole space was bathed in a strobing blue light.  a couple of police cruisers were parked along the farm path that was being used as main street of the makeshift campground.  I finally paid some attention to the a small vintage camper had been parked beside me.  The reason why was that the post teenaged girl was standing in front blocking my view of the cops.  She was in a long white tee shirt and probably nothing else.  At least her legs were bare and in the strobing light it appeared that everything else was as well.

I struggled from the bedroll and asked, "Hey what's happening?"

"There was a fight."

"Bad enough to call in the cops?"

"Yeah, somebody got cut."

"Damn, so much for my peaceful night."

"Yeah, I know and the show starts at 10am  I'm going to have to be up at 7am at least."

I stood beside her for a few more minutes until a man about her age showed up.  I hadn't seen him before.  "Hi there," he said not all that friendly.

"Hey, So are they about finished?"  I asked it to make sure he knew my interest was in the action.  I didn't want to be shot by some jealous husband of a kid.  Then again to even be suspected of hitting on his wife was kind of flattering.

"Yeah, they put Eddie Welch in the back of the car.  Sammy is going to drive himself to the hospital."

"Too much liquor?" I asked.

"Too much liquor and too few women," he said with a smile.

"Well I'm old enough to not pay much attention to either."  I said it to reassure him.  "Well I', going back to bed.  I need to be on the road tomorrow."

"You not going to stay for the show?"  It was the girl who asked.

"I think I'll just head on down the road."  It seemed like the best thing for me to say in that situation at 3am.

I must have been exhausted because I slept through all the coming and going in the early hours.  When I awoke the campsite looked deserted.  The trailers were still in place but not a soul was about.  I took a look at my small digital clock and saw that it was 10am.  I continued to lay under my blanket.  I tried to make plans.

I decided to go to the reenactment, then on to the campground.  The same one I had planned to stay in before I wandered into the actor's camp.  It was no more than a one hour drive to the original site, so the reenactment was very doable.  I broke camp before I took the bike down to the staging area.

When I arrived at the open field being used as a parking lot for the visitors, I found a small tree.  I chained the bike to the tree, then went to the show.  Even before I got to the show I could hear the canon fire.  A volley of musket fire and cloud of black powder smoke rode on the air as well.  

I watched from the sidelines as actors paraded up and down the field.  I suppose they accurately represented the soldiers of the era, except that they were too well fed.  If the battle happened more than a couple of months into the war, no soldier on either side would have been carrying that much extra weight around.

I have no idea what I was supposed to be seeing but it wasn't very interesting, so I wandered into the official bivouac area.  As I walked down the row of tents, I saw the young woman whose trailer was beside my make shift shelter. 

"Well hello, what are you ladies supposed to be?"

"Why camp followers of course," she replied with a wicked smile.  The other ladies smiled politely.

"I am an untrained nurse," an older ladies in a white smock replied.

"Mary this is the man with the motorbike," my young friend said to the older woman.

"Hi Mary, I Michael Burke."  She and I nodded to each other.

"She do you know what started last night's fight?"  The words had an effect far beyond the simple words.  Mary looked away pointedly.  She obviously was biting her tongue.

"The fight was over a woman," the post teenager replied.

"It usually is over money or a woman," I replied.

"That was the first time we ever had any problem at all at one of these events," Mary suggested.

"Well get a bunch of men together without their wives and it's bound to happen eventually," I said that just as if I really knew what I was talking about.

Mary turned away again not wanting to speak.  I had a feeling that the younger woman knew more than she was telling as well as Mary.  I was just curious since it hadn't involved me at all.  "Well it was nice meeting you Mary.  Tell your husband I said hello," I said that last to the younger woman as I turned to leave.

"Aren't you staying tonight?" she asked.

"No, I am headed on down the road.  I won't be getting very far.  I'm just going to the campground at the park.  It's only about ten miles down the road."

"Yes I know, we had thought about going down there till someone emailed about the overflow campsite."

"Lisa, we better be going to the house," the woman called Mary suggested.

"The house?"

"Yes there is an old farm house over there where the ladies will all be taken prisoner.  Sounds kind of kinky don't it,"  She said with a laugh.  The comment came from out of no place and sounded a bit strained.  I was sure Mary noticed but I didn't make eye contact with her.

The two women walked off in one direction and me in another.  I found my bike just as I had left it, so I hopped on, then found a straight down hill run and fired it up.

The state park had a gray haired lady taking the camping fees.  I was told at the office to just pick a space and she would be around later to collect.  I rode by several lake view spaces until I came to one farther from the lake.  I expected farther from the lake would equal fewer bugs.

The female ranger, who came by for the space fee, showed up about six.  At the time I was drinking a can of lemon drink from the machine at the office. 

"So how long you going to stay?" she asked.

"Just tonight, then I'm on the road again."  I said it giving her a careful look.   She wasn't exactly a raving beauty but she was attractive in a muscular way.  I do prefer my women a little on the softer side.  Then again there hadn't been any offers of any kind lately.

"Well have fun and be careful."  She said that as she turned toward her pickup truck.

I pretty much dismissed her from my mind and went back to the radio and writing my blog.  I could almost always find an outlet at one of the empty campsite to charge the battery.  It required me to be a squatter on the campsite until someone showed up to use it, or the ranger came by to give me a dirty look.  Still I was able to keep the laptop charged.

The sun was down so it had to be at least 8pm when they showed up.  It wasn't quite dark so it wasn't nine yet for sure.  I recognized her as the neighbor from the night before.  I had no idea what was going on or why they would come looking for me.  It was certainly no accident that they showed up at my primitive camp site.

"Hi there, remember us?" the girl asked.

"Of course my neighbors from last night.  How could I forget?"

"Good, " the man said.

"So what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"They closed that campsite after the show.  We just moved on over to this one.  Millie remembered that you were coming here so we thought we would look you up."

"Well that's nice of you."  I said it but I knew there was more to it.  I also knew it was time to be very careful.

"So," Millie's husband said.  "You been on the road long?"

"Not really just a couple of days."

"Ah, so are you bored yet?"

"A little,"  I was really curious to what he was going to pitch.  I had a feeling from his remarks the night before but I wanted him to spell it out.

"If you are a little bored maybe you and I can work out a little entertainment."

"Oh really, what do you have in mind?"

"Well Millie took a liking to you, if you get my meaning."  Millie suddenly had a very sexy smile for me.

"I think so.  You are telling me that Millie here can be friendly when the situation is right?"

"Yeah that's it.  I couldn't have put it better myself." her husband replied with a smile.

"I suppose you are going to tell me what would make the situation right?"

"Actually Millie likes nice things.  I am saving to buy her a set of diamond ear rings."

"And she would be grateful, if I made contribution?"

"Why as a matter of fact that is exactly what I had in mind."

"And how large a contribution did you have in mind?"

"How about a hundred dollars?"

"Is that what happened last night at the campsite.  The guys had a falling out about something involving Millie here?"

"Yeah, one of them got impatient."  I didn't need any more clarification.  Millie was turning tricks and more than one a night.  One of the guys thought the other was staying to long or something like that no doubt.

"Tell you what friend, I think I'm going to pass on your offer.  I do want to thank you for thinking of me."

"You a fag?" he asked it very unpleasantly.

"Don't think so but no one is never completely certain about that kind of thing.  What I do know is that I'm not a pimp.  Now get back in your car and move on to some other sucker."

"Or what," he asked.  

Now he was thirty years younger and we both knew it.  He probably thought he was a bad ass as well.  It was laughable that some small time pimp was getting an attitude with me.  "Or I'm going to kick your ass and have you both arrested.  Proving you are pimping her,and that she is a trailer trash hooker won't be that hard.  I'm sure that guy in jail will be happy to testify as well."

He took one step forward, and I turned sideways to him.  It gives the bad guys a smaller target than standing square to them.  I could see the indecision in his eyes.  It was the modern day equivalent of fight or flight.  One of the more basic decisions of life stared him in the face.  He folded a lot easier than a krispy kreme donut box.

They both cursed me as they walked up the path to their car.  I was a little surprised at the anger his wife felt toward me.  After all it was just business for them.  They would no doubt befriend some other camper before the night was done.

The bike had been doing so well I decided to stretch the length of the ride.  I had two choices for that day's travel.  I could do a 75 mile ride or a 120 mile ride.  The 120 would be about 7 to 9 hours on the bike.  I wasn't sure that I could make it that far since every ride so far had kicked my butt.  Still it was time to test the limits of the bike and myself.

I filled up the tank at the first opportunity then carefully measured the necessary amount of oil.  I didn't want to seize the engine from stupidity.  I also took the time to drink a cup of coffee.  It would be a long day no matter how I cut it.  The microwave breakfast wasn't much but I didn't want to stop again before lunch.

The scenery on the back roads would have been nice, except I was too busy dodging pot holes to really enjoy it.  Then too there was the occasional small town with it's traffic I had to be concerned with.  All in all it was a miserable 10 hours on the bike.  I decided that it was my last ride over a hundred miles.  

The constant vibrations and bone jarring pot holes was taking a toll as well.  It might be time to find somewhere to rest up a couple of days.  I had been on the road almost a week by that time.  I was out of North Carolina and would be out of South Carolina by the end of the next day if I kept going.  There were very few hills to slow me down so I was making much better time than I had at the beginning of my trip, but I was still beat.

That night in the campground passed without incident and I was back on the road again the next day.  I planned to get into Georgia then start looking for a place to light for a day or two.  As I headed south I hugged the coast line as best I could.  I was south of Savannah when I stopped for lunch my first day in Georgia.  I was so shaky by then that time it really was past time for me to take a break.  

The small town cafe had a bulletin board on the wall.  I walked to it while I waited for my lunch to be served.  I saw a couple of cars for sale, even an apartment to rent.  I was just passing time looking at the help wanted ads.  I certainly did not want or need a job.  Still there was one job that looked interesting.  I made a mental note of the details then went back to my table.

Lunch was better than I had expected.  At least everything didn't taste like fish.  In some coastal restaurants they cooked burgers with a definite fishy taste.

"Do you happen to know a cheap place where I might find a room around here?"  I asked it of the middle aged cashier.  I hadn't bothered to ask the much younger waitress.

"You need it long?"  The older woman seemed to have more than one place in mind.

"Might be up to a week, or it might be a couple of days," I replied.

"Try Mitchell Thomas.  He runs a fish camp about ten miles out on the sound.  He might have a room to let."

"Can you give me directions?"  I hated to ride ten miles and him not have a room so I got his phone number as well."

"Yeah, I got some spaces but you gonna' have to pay the 'in season rate' even during the week unless you plan to vacate by Friday."  Mitchell didn't seem to care whether I took the room or not.

"Okay,. let me come out and see what it is."  I said that knowing I was going to take the room no matter what.  That is unless it was ridiculously expensive.

In person Mitchell was the same as on the phone.  He probably had heard every possible combination of stories and excuses.  The room was nothing but a 6x8 prison cell in a concrete block building.  At least there weren't any bars.  

"Built it that way to minimize water damage from the Canes."

"Well it does have a bed," I admitted.

"Yep and Cheap for the area.  Twelve bucks a night and all you do is sleep in it.  Bathroom is at the end of the row.  If you are here on Friday price jumps to twenty five bucks.  I got a couple of reservations so if you don't speak up for the weekend soon, you may have to leave."

"Okay how about this?  If I have to leave for the weekend, how about letting me camp behind the building till the people go home.  I'll pay you the same as if I was in a room.  Ten bucks a night."

"That sounds reasonable to me.  But if nobody comes you pay the $25 and stay where you are.  I don't run no campground."

"Fair enough," I replied.  "Where can a guy get some food?"

"I would go down to the pier, they got a snack bar there.  If you want a real meal the closest diner is ten miles up the road."

"Yeah that's where I called you from.  How far is the pier?"

"You could walk it if you was a mind to," he replied.

The next morning I woke before the sun.  Without coffee or food to keep me awake, I returned to sleep.  The sun wasn't full up but it was closer when I crawled from the bed.  That bed would have been torture to me a week before, but that night it was heaven.  After a week of sleeping bags of leaves and other assorted junk, the soft but lumpy mattress felt great to me.  Since no bedding was furnished, I had to use my own blanket but it was still a hundred times better than the hard ground.

There was enough daylight for me to make it to the pier.  Once at the pier I found the snack bar open.  The lady behind the counter was also the cook.  She was missing a couple of front teeth at least, but she was pleasant enough.

"So what's good?" I asked.

"Well the biscuit were made last night but it was late last night so they are still pretty fresh.  I'd go with scrambled eggs and bacon.  I cook those first thing in the morning.  Eggs are fresh today as well."

"Then I'll have to bacon and egg biscuits.  Anybody say how the fishing has been?"

"They tell me it's pretty good right now.  You down to fish?"

"No, I'm headed south on a motorbike.  I just decided to take a couple of days off to rest up."

"Well I wouldn't expect too much rest if you are at the fish camp.  Weekends get pretty rowdy over there."

"How so?" I asked.

"Guys come down here on the weekend to fish.  When they ain't fishin', they be liquored up.  That's the real reason that place is so much like a jail.  Ain't much damage they can do to it."  She laughed.

"Well that don't sound too good to me."  I took my paper plate to one of the very old Formica topped, metal, kitchen type tables spread around the room.  She was right the food was good and the coffee hot but weak.

After breakfast I rode the bike north a few miles to a well maintained county road that lead to the beach.  From that road I turned right onto a long packed sandy drive.  Down the drive at least a mile I came to a clearing in the spanish moss cypress trees.  In the clearing was an old Southern mansion.  Around it were a lot of smaller buildings.  In the large parking lot sat one of those construction office type trailers.

I parked the bike nearby and walked to the open door. "Hey, anybody home?"  I raised my voice to carry in case the person in charge was outside but close by.

"Come on in," the voice belonged to a female of some description.   Inside I found her to be a women in her forties.  She was blonde from a hairdresser's magic.  The hair color was most likely close to her original color since her eyes were startlingly blue.  Most likely the color was to hide the gray.  She was dressed like me in jeans, but I knew her jeans didn't come from the dollar store.  Her's were strictly designer since they fit her so well.  She wore a soft white tee shirt with a logo of some kind on it.  The industrial strength bra that held her breast erect was clearly visible through it.

"I do hope you have my pine needles," she said.

"No I don't, sorry.  I'm here about the job."

"You are?"

"Yes ma'am, I saw a notice on the cafe bulletin board yesterday.  Are you still looking for a handyman?"

"The job is only for a week or so," she replied.  "Don't get me wrong, I need more help but when people hear that part, they aren't interested."

"Well I'm just passing through, so a week would be fine with me."

"You got a bank account?" she asked.

"Yep drivers license, social security number, bank account and a motorbike, that's about all I have though."

"You a drunk?"  She asked it as though she didn't have any fondness for drinkers."

"Friend of Bill's for about ten years."  It wasn't strictly true about being a friend of Bill's, but I had given up serious drinking ten years before.

"Can you drive old farm equipment?"

"I can drive it, if it has wheels or treads."

"I can only pay minimum wage for the job.  You sound like you could make a lot more."

"Well like I said, I'm just passing through.  I would like to camp on the property though.  Seems the place I'm staying is gonna' get a little noisy soon."

"Tell you what you work today, and if you come back tomorrow you can bring your camping stuff?"  

She made it a question so I answered, "Sounds fare what do I do first?"
What I did first was to change the oil in an old International Harvester tractor.  The tractor was equipped with a mower of sorts.  I had never worked in landscaping before, so I wasn't sure how it all worked.  When I turned the key and it started, so I wasn't too worried.  I looked behind me and there was an area of cut grass where I had driven the tractor.  

I spent two hours cutting grass in a field lower in the center than the edges.  I nick named it the bowl.  Later that day Heidi, the boss, called it the amphitheater.  The mansion, with the little cabins. she informed me at the same time. was a religious retreat.  Her job was to get the campus ready to open in two weeks.  It was my, and any other cheap laborers she could find, job to do the grunt work.

The pine needles arrived so I spread those around the flower beds she had planted herself.  I managed to slip away for lunch, but she didn't seem to like that idea.  She seemed to be afraid that I wouldn't come back.

Lunch was a couple of hot dogs and a coke at the pier.  It was a long ride just for hot dogs, but it was the closest place I knew.  I made a mental note to ask around for a place closer.   I filled the bike up with gas as well, before I rode back to the retreat.  

The afternoon was pretty much the same as the morning.  I cut grass and spread the mountain of pine needles.  I worked well past five o'clock.  The work wasn't hard but it was boring.  Still it was more comfortable than being shaken to death on the bike.  Not nearly as much fun, but that's why it's called work.  If it was fun, I doubted anyone would pay you to do it.  Even though the pay wasn't much it was still pay for time.  In my mind that was the definition of a job.

"Well Mike, you did a fair day's work, do you want to be paid now?"

"Surely you don't pay by the day?"  I asked that with a smile.

"Yes, it's called day labor.  I hire by the day and pay by the day.  That is unless you want me to hold on to it."

"Why don't you hold on to it till I finish the job."

She actually smiled at me.  "Then bring your camping gear tomorrow.  We will find a place for you to pitch a tent."

"Fair enough," I agreed.

I stopped at the pier for a burger, then rode to the fish camp.  I met a couple of the other guests sitting on the porch.  Seems they had gotten a little sunburned fishing and decided to call it a day.  The other part of fishermen were still on the water.  The rush of fishermen would be coming in the next day, they assured me.  It was a good thing that I was moving out.  

If the two on the porch were any indication, the weekend would be a nightmare for a sober man.  Those two were already drunk and trying to get even more so.  I went to my cell and listened to the radio and those two talking way too loud and making no sense at all.  I waited for them to pass out before I tried to sleep.  It had to do with old habits of risk assessment.  If they were passed out, the risk of them doing something stupid went down greatly.  The only worry after it got quiet was that one of them would start a fire by smoking in bed.  That to me was an acceptable risk level.

I slipped off to sleep on a flat surface for what might be the last time for a few days.  It looked as thought it was back to the ground and trash bags for me.  Still I wouldn't be around a building full of drunks.

The one thing about the fish camp that I would miss was the drink machine.  It probably did a hell of a business in liquor mixes, but for me the cold coke and cookies at night was a treat.

I showed up that next morning with my trailer.  Inside it were all my worldly possessions.  I realized that I didn't have much.  I also realized that it didn't matter.

"Good lord Mike is that all you have?" Heidi asked.

"Sure, I don't need much."  I was pretty sure that I was telling the truth.  I did need to find a department store soon to buy new underwear.  I hadn't taken time to do any laundry.  I had planned to just throw it away and buy more until I got settled somewhere.

"Okay, well just leave the trailer here and get to work.  We will figure out something later."

"Okay, so what do you want me to do today?"

"Even though the pool was covered there are some leaves and junk from the winter.  In the pool house there is a long handled net.  Scoop out all the trash that you can with it.  There are some filters that will catch the small things."  She said it handing me a ring of keys.  I presumed one would fit the lock on the pool house door.

"Yes Ma'am," I said as I turned to go.

After the pool I sprayed the cracks on the patio with Roundup.  There were plenty of weeds around for sure.

The work wasn't challenging but it was keeping me busy while my body adapted to being in a stable position.  In other words I wasn't enjoying the work, but it was better than ridding around on the bike.  At least it seemed that was at first.

Heidi went out for lunch that day, so she brought me back a large salad and some baked fish.  I ate the salad and threw the fish in the woods.  Don't get me wrong I have eaten fish just about every way you can imagine.  The difference was that I was starving at the time.  I wasn't starving that day.  Baked fish to me is almost the same as raw.  I just wasn't hungry enough for them.

The Afternoon was filled with more grounds work.  Mostly it was string trimmer work on the edges of the buildings.

"Mike, I hate to ask but could you work the weekend.  I know you are trying to get some rest but I am on a tight schedule.  You are the only one I have been able to hire."

"I guess so, I don't really have anything else going on."

"Good, I promise I'll try to keep the work simple."

"Oh it don't matter much, work is work."  It was a stupid thing to say.  Walking around with a line trimmer is definitely not the same as digging a ditch.

After work that night, I used her buck saw to cut three saplings and then my large pocket knife to stripe them of limbs.  I used them to make a frame for my tarp.  I made myself a proper lean too.  It was a pretty good shelter as long as it didn't rain.  I also found out how Heidi always beat me to work.  She had been sleeping in one of the cabins all along.

I played my radio for a while after dark, then just slipped into a peaceful sleep.  I slept through the night, since I didn't have any soda in my bladder to empty at 2am.  In the morning I used the bath house to shower.  I hadn't done that in a day or so.  I was pretty sure Heidi would appreciate it.

I found that there were several water leaks.  I mentioned those to Heidi when I returned from breakfast at the pier.  I also got directions to the closest discount department store.  I planned to ride the bike into the next town to buy some underwear.

The day was filled with jobs like sweeping off the roof of cabins, opening the shutters of all the cabins to check for torn screens.  It was mostly a day filled with little jobs that had to be done even though they showed the least amount of progress.  They weren't noticeable things like the landscaping was.  Still they had to be done.

At lunch I went to the department store, even though it made me late getting back to work.  Since I was paid by the hour and I was the only employee, I didn't expect it would get me fired.  And if it did, the ride had been fun so I was about ready to get back on the road anyway.

I decided I would try to hang in till the retreat work was finished, since I liked Heidi and it was only one more week.  I knew I would make it to my destination in plenty of time.  That would have been true in any case since I had no real destination or time limits.

The week was filled with handy man type work.  I also got in some rest and a couple of really good meals.  Those came toward the end of the week.  Heidi sprang for dinner at the local family style steak house.  I didn't have the clothes for a fancy place.  I really wouldn't have been interested anyway.  I do enjoy working class people.  Even in a tux, I have always considered myself just a blue collar kind of guy.

Heidi convinced me to hang around till the camp staff showed up.  Just in case there was some last minute things she couldn't handle alone.  I was in her trailer drinking, her not so great coffee, when the range rover pulled in.  It seemed the religious retreat business paid well.

She went out to greet the new arrival while I lurked in the trailer.  A women even older than me appeared from inside the Ranger Rover.  "The retreat looks wonderful Miss Ames."

"Thank you Reverend Wilson," Heidi replied.  She didn't seem happy to see the woman.  Most likely she would be thrilled to go back to her real life though.  I found myself surprised that I had never asked what she did when not playing retreat opener.

The two of them went into the main house while I sat in the trailer waiting to be summoned.  I decided that no matter what I was going to be gone no later than the next morning.  

"Everything seems to be fine Mike, you can leave anytime."  Heidi's tone made it clear the sooner the better.

"Good, I'll pack and be gone in half an hour."  I didn't have anything else to say.  I was a little disappointed by her change in attitude.  The Reverend must have said something pretty harsh, since I had thought that Heidi and I were friends.  Well not really buddies but at least thought fondly of each other.

I had the campsite empty and even clean within twenty minutes.  I stopped by the trailer to pick up my money, then planned to hit the road.  The Reverend Wilson was in the trailer so I waited outside.

"Mr. Burke, wont you come in please?"

"Of course," I replied.

She handed me an envelope when I got inside the trailer.  "Heidi tells me you are an excellent worker and trustworthy as well."

"I appreciate the kind words," I was looking at Heidi who seemed strangely quiet.

"I was hoping you might consider staying on as the camp custodian," The Reverend suggested.

"I don't know if Miss Ames mentioned it or not but I'm just passing through."

"Yes she did, but I was hoping that I might convince you to stay."  Something about Heidi almost cowering in the corner convinced me to say no.

"I really hadn't intended to stay as long as I have already.  I do thank you for you offer though."

"Very well Mr. Burke," she said without any sign or real disappointment in her voice.  I wasn't surprised.  People who drove fifty grand SUVs weren't worried about minimum wage employees.  To them we were as interchangeable as the tires on her over priced station wagon. 

I looked inside the envelope after I left the trailer.  It was stuffed with cash as it should have been.  I didn't bother to count it.  Since I had no employment contract there was nothing I could have done even if it was short.  Sure I could have kicked their butts and spent some time in a county jail somewhere.  I really didn't need the money anyway so why bother getting upset about it.  I just assumed it was all there and started the bike.  I was sitting on the bike outside the trailer when Heidi came out to say goodbye.  

"Mike you are a heck of nice guy and I'm supposed to be asking you to reconsider but don't.  You have made the right decision."

"What makes you say that?"

"Meet me at the fishing pier for lunch today and I'll explain."

"Sure, I need to pick up something in town but I can meet you for lunch."

The things in town were no more than replacements for my dirty clothes.  I put the bags in my bike basket until I found a place with a shower.  I was still pretty nasty when I made it to the pier.

I was seated in an old style chrome framed kitchen chair at the pier when I spoke to Heidi.  "I have never seen you so quiet as you were around the Reverend.  What's up with that?"

"Mike that woman scares me.  I need her business, but she still scares me."

"Why?"

"She is running some kind of cult, I think."

"Cult in a resort area, that's hard to believe.  Besides in a cult she would have all kinds of free labor."

"It isn't that kind of cult.  Her members are all middle class and upper middle class business people.  Some self employed people and lots of corporate executives.  They take their vacations to come down here for her retreats.  Her group, cult, or whatever you call it has about ten branches best I can tell.  They are all in large cities.  She has churches and assistants.  She flies around to a different church every week."

"Now if she was taking advantage of kids or the poor, I might care.  If she is bleeding rich people, I could care less."

"Some days I feel the same and some days I worry about all this.  She has so much influence with these people she could be preaching anything."

"Yeah but she doesn't seem like purple koolaid type. Beside from what you say, who would miss her followers."

"I'm  thinking that their husbands and kids might miss them.  Yes her followers are all women.  Mostly divorced or women whose husbands are too busy for them.  You know most successful people say they have an empty spot in their lives?"

"Yes I have heard that.  Their lives are too easy, they need to grow their own food or kill their own dinner, or maybe just kill for their dinner.  So why are you telling me this?"

"Because you have a chance to find out what the hell is going on in there.  She asked me to try to convince you to stay on till she could find a real handy man.  These are not the kind of people to repair a broken facetted."

"Why me?"

"I told her you could do most anything and that you don't seem interested in women."  I looked at her sharply, it that is possible.  "You slept within a hundred yards of me and never hit on me.  Hell you never even flirted with me."

"Would it have done any good?" I asked smiling.

"No I have a lover.  One I can't wait to get back to."  Good for you.  I would hate to think that I had misjudged you." I looked away a moment then asked, "Why would I care what she is up to?"

"Come on Mike deep down you have a that white knight syndrome.  You could have left me after a couple of days.  You were ready to go for sure.  You stayed just because I needed you to stay.  You will do this just because it needs doing."

"And you, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to be outside and as soon as you find anything that isn't kosher, I'll bring the Calvary."

"You have this all planned out don't you.  So what's in it for you?"

"It is just something important I can do before I slip into middle age."

"Ah the one great thing to look back on with pride."

"Something like that yes," she said looking at me defiantly.

"So what is the Reverend offering?"

"She said to offer you ten dollars an hour and room and board for the first session.  That's just two weeks, then you can leave or stay on for the others.  By then she thinks she can find someone, not very likely but she can try.  She will most likely let you go anytime she finds someone else."

"I wouldn't expect any more as a day laborer who is just passing through."

"So you want to hang around and see what the hell is going on there?"

"Why not, you have my curiosity up now.  You go on back out there and tell her she has a deal.  I'll be there first thing on Monday.  In the meantime I'm going to check into a motel and take a shower.  I might as well buy some more clothes if I'm going to be around a while."

After Heidi left, I rode the bike about fifteen miles to a small motel just inland from the beach.  Even without the view, and in an older motel, the price was still fifty bucks a night.  I used the first hour getting my body and hair clean.  I washed my hair three times before the soap would even lather.  I swore no more campgrounds without showers.  It was getting far too warm to skip a day or two showering.  If the Reverend couldn't find a way for me to shower, I would just get back on my bike and move on down the road.

To sleep in a bed again was a real pleasure.  It seemed a little soft, but that was okay for one night.  Watching TV and munching on Oreo cookies washed down with diet Coke was another treat.  I tried to cram everything I could into my one night of luxury.  I rode the bike to an Italian restaurant for fancy pasta even.

The next morning I left early enough to get to the retreat by eight.  I sat on my bike in the parking lot until the Reverend saw me.  It was close to nine when she came out of the mansion's front door.

"So, are you ready to go to work?"

"Sure, what should I do first?"

"First we are going into Savannah to pick up a van.  I have rented a mini bus for the summer.  I need you to drive it back.  You do have a driver's license?" she asked.

"I do indeed.  I even had a car up until a few months ago."

"So, you didn't lose them or anything?"

I was pretty sure that only seeing them would be enough.  I fought through the card filled case with my credit cards to find the driver's license.  I wanted to make sure that she saw my three credit cards as I fumbled.  Might as well get the idea that I was road scum out of her mind.  Just in case her religion called for a human sacrifice, I thought.

"You didn't have to show me the license, but I'm glad you did."

"Sure I did, you would have kept asking me questions till you knew for sure."  Heidi's word didn't carry a lot of weight it seemed.  The Reverend wanted to see things for herself.  The fifty mile ride to the Savannah airport was less than informative.  The Reverend seemed to be lost in her thoughts as I drove her Range Rover to the airport.  I felt as though I was in a scene from Driving Miss Daisy, since the Reverend sat in the back seat for some reason.  I didn't mind all that much.  

The mini van came from Hertz no less.  I had expected no less.  She certainly wouldn't have gone to econo-rent for one.  It was very black and had tinted rear windows.  It looked pretty damn sinister actually.  I had a feeling that it was as much for show as for privacy.  

"You take this on back to the retreat Mike, I'm going to lunch.  I'm sure you can find something in the kitchen for lunch."

"Sure, I can use the time to settle in.  Where exactly am I to sleep."

"Well I can't have you in the main house, or taking up a cottage for six.  Why don't you take the tractor and move the trailer Heidi used back to the rear of the property where we store it when not in use.  You can sleep in it.  It has a bathroom and shower."

"You do know there are no water or sewer hook ups for it back there."

"Heidi says you are resourceful, you will figure it out."  She smiled a condescending smile at me.  I wasn't thrilled with her answer but I smiled back with an equally down your nose smile.  Sure I could always find an answer she might not like it, but I could work it out.

"In that case could I have your credit card.  I will probably need to buy a portable water tank in order to get water to the trailer's tanks.  Then that waste tank does have to be emptied,  So when should I plan to be dumping my sewage into the bathhouse toilet."

"I see your point, what do you suggest?"

"I can park the trailer back there alright and even run a garden hose for water out there, but I am going to need the use of a bathroom.  Since Heidi told me it would be a ladies only retreat, I would think that small bathroom off the kitchen of the main house would be the easiest for everyone."

"Alright that sounds reasonable.  You will be working around the house anyway, it wouldn't make sense for you to be running to the trailer every time you needed to use the bathroom.  Yes that will work just fine."

I expected her to say, glad I thought of it, but she didn't.    When I got the mini van back to the house, I parked it in the parking lot then got the tractor from the tool building/garage.  With it hauling the trailer around the property was fairly easy.

For the next two days, I spent a lot of time being chauffeur.  People arrived at the airport in Savannah, so I drove out in the mini van to bring them and their surprisingly few bags to the retreat.  I found out after the last of them arrived, why the guests had such small amounts of luggage.

"Michael, I would like for you to confine yourself to your trailer as much as possible while the retreat is in progress.  I know you will be using the main house bathroom but I would appreciate if you stayed inside the trailer as much as possible.  At least in close proximity to it."

"Not a problem for me," I replied.  I knew that I would get all the information I needed while I worked.  I could gather a lot of impressions about what happened at night, just by going to the bathroom.  

"Good, I bought these today.  Just stay in the trailer and I'll call you when we need you."  She handed me a walkie talkie.  I couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on.  Still I knew not to get curious.  Even if it was harmless, she was going to a lot of trouble to limit my access to the guests.  You can't keep a secret with so many women about.

The trailer had a small TV.  I generally had no use for a TV, but I had watched the local news those last two nights.  Just on a lark I tried my computer.  I thought that maybe someone had a wireless wifi connection.  Sure enough the computer showed I had access to five.  All but one were encrypted, the single open connection belonged to the Reverend.  I happily watched news and uploaded blog comments.

Since I really didn't want to know what was going on that first night, I urinated in the woods.  I could have walked a couple of hundred more yards and pee in the ocean.  Kind of an interesting thought, but even though it was a cliche I intended to do it at least once before I left.

I got my first look at the reason the women had so little luggage when I took the bike out to breakfast and to buy some groceries.  I past three women standing at the edge of the parking lot.  They were each dressed in a white robe.  They looked like middle eastern sheiks or something.  They were not spa robes but some kind of loose fitting white thing with various colored sashes.  Of the three each wore a different color sash.  It was my guess that each sash was a symbol for location or rank, something like that anyway.

I blew by them and went to breakfast at the pier.  I was not invited to breakfast at the dining room in the main house and didn't care.  I was just as happy to have mine on the pier with the people who I had come to know.  

"Hey Mike, you runnin' late today."  It was a statement not a question.

"Yeah, sleeping in a bed makes me lazy."

"What you want to eat hon?" the middle aged waitress/cook asked.

"Make it cheese and eggs and a biscuit," I replied.  While I waited and again while I ate, I asked myself what the hell was going on at the retreat, and why I cared.  Nobody there was too young or seemed to be under the influence of drugs or any kind of mental duress.  They were strange but hell I'm a Baptist, I know what strange is.

After breakfast I stopped by the closest grocery store and bought enough food for a few days.  I hadn't brought the trailer so I didn't load up.  I just got enough to make two meals a day for three days.  And some peanut butter and Ritz crackers.

When I shut down the bike in front of the trailer, I noticed the radio had been tripped.  It was tripped but I wasn't at the trailer to receive the message.  I called the Reverend on it.

"Hello, what can I do for you?"

"Mike one of the toilets in the bathhouse is stopped up.  Would you see what you can do?  I would rather not call a plumber."

"Sure," I said into the phone.  If a plunger wouldn't do it, she would have no choice.  Not only did I not have any tools, I had no skills in plumbing either.

I had a little trouble getting the bathhouse empty so that I could work on the toilet.  I plunged it a few times and it cleared.  I supposed that the Reverend would want me to rush back to my trailer, instead I walked slowly to the main house to use the bathroom myself.  I did it to get a good look around.  Everyone was in those white robes and no one had done anything more than brush their hair.  None of them would be recognized as the well dressed well made up women who rode from the airport with me.

They had let themselves go for sure.  Maybe that's all there was to this religion.  You know just get back to basics and find yourself.  If that was it, then I had to say I approved.  Most people can't find themselves under all those layers of civilization.  Now and then someone gets a glimpse but usually it is about two minutes before they meet their god.  Even if they cheat death they usually forget what they learned, when they get back to civilization.

Maybe the women at the retreat were just living out the teachings of their guru.  The only problem with that was that the Reverend was still dressed and made up. 

"Mike, I'm glad you are here did you get the toilet fixed?"

"Yes, it is working.  I was just headed back to my place."

"Why don't you come back for lunch.  We are eating at noon."

"Are you sure, I thought you wanted to keep me away from the guests."

"It might be time you met some of the ladies."

"Sure what's on the menu?"  I was terrified that it would be tofu or some kind of sprouts.

"I have no idea, each of the ladies had a turn in the kitchen.  I never tell them what to cook, but you are going to need to do the shopping for them.  Heidi stocked the pantry but I'm afraid we are running through it quickly."  She looked at me seriously then continued.  "It appears that I am going to need someone to do the outside things for us.  I hadn't really considered that.  I can't ask the ladies on retreat to change back to their old lives just to go to the store."

"Well it's all in a day's work to me."

"I was hoping  you would say that.  Would you go by the kitchen and get the list of things the ladies there need."

"Of course," I replied.

"In exchange for this little duty, you can take your lunch with us everyday.  I would prefer that you not eat any other meals in the dining room, but I think at lunch you would be good for our guests."

I had no idea what that meant, but I nodded.

The two women in the kitchen were both brunettes and both in their mid thirties.  I'm quite sure they would be attractive in any other setting.  In those robes and with no makeup they looked rather dowdy.

"Hello Michael," one of the look alike said.

"Hello," I replied.  I didn't know what to call them so I didn't even try.

"This is the list of things we need.  Mother said to keep it simple so these are pretty generic items.  You should be able to get them at any super market."

I suppose they meant the Reverend when they said Mother.  "Very well, I will be about an hour or so."  Since they didn't seem chatty I didn't try to make small talk.

The items were pretty simple and nothing special.  When I returned, I found lunch ready.  I had bought things for dinner evidently.  Lunch was a simple soup, and peanut butter sandwich.  It was a very simple thing to be serving women who probably had power lunches at home.  It just didn't seem quite right. but I didn't complain the soup was terrific.  It seemed to be almost an upscale version of school cafeteria soup.

The ladies all seemed to be chatting like a bunch of school girls.  I had absolutely no idea how women would act in a group when there is no need to keep up appearances, so I just ignored them.  Hardly anyone spoke to me which I found odd but not disturbing.

It didn't seem any big dea so I went back to the trailer after lunch.  I had one more radio call for a chore that afternoon, but mostly I just rested.  It seemed as though it was going to be a good gig after all.

"Now that you have a feel for the work here, would you consider staying on for the summer?"  the Reverend asked it in quiet voice.  So quiet I had to strain to hear her at all.

"I'm sorry as I said at the beginning, I'm just passing through.  I need to get on the road headed to where the weather is more condusive to the life style I've chosen."

"Well Michael, you are drifting but you aren't adrift.  I like that about you."

"I like that description of me.  I might have that put on the tombstone."

"Well lets hope not for a while."

"I second that idea," I replied smiling at her.  It was one of those warm fuzzy moments.  I really didn't have anything bad to say about her.  The Reverend was peculiar but she seemed totally harmless.  I stook to leave.

"Michael would you do me one more favor?"

"Sure," I replied.

"You are the male role model around here and you have been an admirable one at that.  I would like for more of the guest to get to know you.  Would you consider being a counselor while you are here?"

"I don't know anything about counseling," I replied.  

"I take care of all the spiritual counseling.  I would just like you to speak to the guest on practical matters.  Some have questions about men, and frankly you would be better at that kind of thing than me."

"Well, I might give them really bad advice," I replied.  I was worried.  "If these ladies are troubled, I could harm them."

"What gave you the idea these are troubled or fragile women.  They aren't either.  There ladies are here for a stress reduction retreat.  This is just a kind of back to the beginning retreat for them."

"Ah I see, all of this is just to simplify their existence for a while?"

"Exactly, I would like to have to you be available to just have a family type discussion with them.  Kind of like a big brother."

"I suppose I could do that," I replied.

"Good, and Michael give the other some thought.  If riding that silly bike later in the summer is a problem, I could always have you and it shipped to Florida."

"Thanks but I'm still just passing through."

"Well I have ten days to change your mind," she said smiling.

"Your time would be better spent finding a replacement for me."  She nodded as I walked to the door.

The next morning I headed off to the pier for breakfast.  I got about a mile down the pot hole filled road when the bike went out of control.  It went into a skid for no reason at all.  The road was dry and the bike wasn't even at max speed.  I had hear a clunking sound from the rear when it just started to skid.  I fought to stay on top of it as the rear tried to become the front of the bike.  

I applied both brake and when it slowed a bit I dropped a foot to the road and swung the bike around.  I also breathed a sigh of relief that I had managed to stay on top of the bike.  After my heart stopped pounding I took a look at the bike.  The chain was wrapped around the rear wheel.  One of the spokes was hanging loose and  two more were obviously broken but still more or less in place.  Almost all of them showed signs of damage.  The wheel was toast.

I began trying to at least get the chain off so I could pedal home.  It was jammed inside the gear box as well as in the wheel.  It took some doing but I managed to clear the damage enough to ride the bike back to the campground.  Of course I had to pedal the damn thing.

I skipped breakfast altogether while I tried to decide what to do with the bike.  I mean I was going to fix it sure, but the details were going to be a bitch.  For one thing I didn't have a real tool kit.  But what I did have was the retreat's mini van which I drove to town almost everyday.  I didn't think anyone would mind, or even know, that I stopped in a hardware store or a bike shop.

During that day I did my handyman chores, shopped for groceries and found time to buy a wheel from the local bike shop in Savannah.  I paid way too much for the wheel, but it was the best I could do on short notice.  I could have bought half dozen yard sale bikes for the cost of that wheel, but I needed it right away.  While in the shop I bought a set of tire levers  I had a spare tube in case I had ruined the one in the broken wheel so I didn't buy his over priced one.  Since it had gotten me home I didn't think it was damaged, but one never knew.

I stopped at an Advance Auto store I had passed on the way to the bike shop.  In the auto parts store I bought a set of metric wrenches.  I needed them to switch out the wheel and sprocket.  I also bought a small compressor that powered from a auto battery.  I figured I'd use the mini van as a power source.  I could probably find room for the tiny compressor when I moved on, if not I had no qualms about leaving the ten buck compressor behind.  

I did chores in the morning but in the afternoon, I tried to work on the bike.  I was so sleepy, I finally decided to take a nap then work on the bike in the evening.  When I woke it was shortly after three in the afternoon.  I still had plenty of daylight so I went to work on the wheel.  I kept dropping the nuts and washers and knew I was going to lose one before the job was completed.  I did of course.

Since there was no way to get a replacement, I wracked my brain to figure out a substitute.  I decided to remove one of the bolts.  I could take it to the hardware store while I was doing the retreat's shopping the next day.  I left the bike still broken down while I took a walk.  In the main parking lot, I used the lighter plug as a power source for the compressor.  

While I waited for the tire to fill, I looked up and noticed what seemed to be all the guest in the area called the amphitheater.  After the tire was up to pressure I slipped in close.  I was expecting to see something sinister, instead I saw them playing a rousing game of Simon says.  Of course Mother was Simon.  Heidi would have found something sinister in that, but I couldn't find anything wrong with it to save my life.

I scrambled myself an egg and made some toast before I called it a night.  I slept quite well as I had been doing since I moved into the trailer.  When I awoke the next morning, I had no way to go out to breakfast, so I make more toast.  It was a long wait until the call came to pick up the grocery list.

"Michael, could you find time for us to have a talk?"  The question came from one of the ladies I passed on the way to the mini van.

I remembered promising The Reverend that I would try to give the ladies advice.  "Sure, I'm headed to town for groceries now, but when I get back we could talk sure."  I said it knowing I had things to do, but a promise is a promise.

At the grocery store I bought more kids food staples.  It seemed that the guests had a craving for updated childhood menu items.  I had noticed it at first and thought it was just the one group of cooks.  All the women were cooking as if they were cooking for ten year old kids.

I stopped at the Home Depot and matched the bolt up.  I was almost positive I could slip a one and half inch long  quarter inch in diameter bolt though the sprocket no sweat.  I bought a dozen of them just in case and since they were pennies each it seemed a good idea to get different lengths as well.

When I was back at the retreat, I forgot all about the promise of a chat with the one lady.  I unloaded the van and checked to be sure there were no chores to be done.  I needed to cut the grass but it would wait a day.

I finished up the bike but didn't get a chance to test it.  You guessed it the lady from the parking lot showed up at my door.

"Hold on I'm all greasy I need to wash up," I said smiling.

"If you are busy I can come back," she suggested.

"No not at all, just need to clean the grease off my hands."
Her name was Maggie, at least that is what she told me.  She was maybe twenty pounds over weight, it was hard to tell in the robes so that was a pure guess.  I mean if she had been fifty pounds, there would have been no hiding it.  I think that anything under thirty probably just got lost in the loose fitting robe.  It occurred to me that the robes were a good idea.  The robes and the lack of make up pretty much put all the women on a level playing field.

I still had a residual grease film in the lines on my index finger of my right hand.  No amount of scrubbing would remove it.  I should have bought a can of that special hand cleaner.  After looking at the finger I decided to do that the next day.

"I'm sorry about the grease."  I said it raising my hand to show her.

"Please don't be.  It reminds me of my dad.  He was always working on things.  He was a lot like you in other ways as well.  Quiet and strong, someone I could go to when I was in trouble."  She stopped and turned inward for a moment, then said, "You know I haven't seen a man with grease on his hands in years."

"Really you must hang out with a very classy crowd."  I smile at her as though I thought it was a compliment.

"I guess.  I thought it was until recently.  Now I wonder about my life choices."  

"You are young, you can change your life choices.  If you really want to.  The problem with that is changing life choices at any age is very difficult."

"I know, I have really never given change much thought.  I have always been on this career path with certain goals.  I have almost blindly concentrated on reaching the next milestone.  I suppose I think the next milestone is where I will find happiness."

"And do you find yourself happier than you were before?"

"That's the problem, I have more with every stop along the way, but I wonder if I'm really any happier."

"Well my dad used to say, a man works for food clothing and shelter.  Then when he reaches that level he is just working for better food clothing and shelter.  I guess somewhere along the line you just get tired of better."  That's when it hit me what the retreat was all about.  It was about these people trying to find something they had lost.  Something they had before the drive to excel took hold of them.  They were trying to find happiness in recapturing their childhoods.  It was probably the last time they weren't driven to succeed.

"That is a wise statement but how do you know when you find that place where the food clothing and shelter is the right level.  More importantly what do you do then."

"To be honest I have no idea.  I think it is different for everyone.  Some people have to be the best at what they do and are driven to just be better than everyone else.  It makes no sense to be since I'm not one of them.  To be the best at something usually means too much sacrifice for me.  I always try to balance things."

"Balance is what Mother is trying to teach us all.  That life is filled with choices some of them are painful but some aren't.  No matter which they still have to be made."

"I do hope you are going to find happiness Maggie.  I'm sure that the Reverend knows much more about this than I do."

"Actually the mythical search for happiness wasn't what brought me to see you.  I came to ask your advice on a personal matter."

"If I can help I will, if I can't, I will admit that I can't."  I smiled.

"It's about a man." she said looking down as if it were sinful.

"Well I'm no authority, but I'll try.  What about a man."

"I know a man at work who seems to like me, but he hasn't asked me out.  I'm not his boss but I'm on a higher level for sure.  He is an investigator in our office.  I was wondering how you feel about me asking him out."

"Ah the old childhood admonishment that women never ask men out.  Or was that never call them on the phone."

"Both I think," she replied.

"What do you do for a living Maggie?"

"I'm an estate lawyer," She said it matter of factly as if that would explain everything about her life.

"So you aren't really too shy to ask him out, you just don't want it to be obvious?"

"Yes that's it."

"It's the old fear of rejection thing.  To rejected by a man in an inferior position would be hurtful?"

"Yes, I suppose you are right."

"If you feel an attraction, you must have some things in common.  Is there an activity you both like?"

"Yes we both like jazz music I suppose."

"Perfect, just say to him.  Edna who does my hair said the house band at, just pick a place, is really wonderful.  I want to go but I hate to eat alone and my friends all hate jazz.  Would you like to come along as my guest.  You say something like that.  Pick a date before hand so that he has an easy out if he wants.  You know like gee Maggie I would love to but I have to wash my hair on Friday.  That way you will know for sure how he feels.  Then go if you want, or move on to a guy with grease under his nails."

After Maggie so many women came for a 'talk' that they had to hand me tools while I did my handyman job.  I had them standing around talking to me, more than one at a time, while I weeded the flower beds.  I had them bending my ear while I put new screen in a cabin door.  In other words it became hard to get anything done for the women and their problems.  Most all of them were problems with men.  Everything from college boys to fathers in nursing homes, it was a real problem for me.  I didn't like to give advice, but it was what they all seemed to want.  Mostly it was just someone to tell them that it was okay to do something or other which they already wanted to do.

Life had been good to these women, but it had demanded a heavy payment as well.  I had more than one of them, who were born into wealthy families, tell me that rich girls don't marry poor boys.  It seemed to have been something universally drummed into their heads as children.  There was a special obligation to marry 'well' if you were going to be anything.  Of course none of them seemed to be happy with their lives either.

I didn't make judgements, I just let them talk.  Most of the ones who had married above their upbringing seemed to miss the kind of family life they grew up with.  Don't get me wrong I am sure most of the women who 'make it' never look back, but for some reason the Reverend's flock did look back.  

"Everyone is searching for that missing piece of their lives," I heard her tell the girls when I wasn't supposed to be listening.  "Some of you will find it and some wont.  Our group is nothing more than a guide.  You have to find your own way."  I had to admit that she made sense.  I didn't know for sure just what happen to the ladies but I hoped they all found their way to whatever it was they wanted to find.

The Reverend told me to make myself scarce on Sunday or the girls would worry me to death.  I chose to go fishing.  It was a short walk through the woods to the water.  It wasn't the ocean but whatever it was emptied into the ocean.

I used a coke bottle with a few ounces of water inside to get the bait out a few yards.  After I had two coke bottle lines out, I sat under a tree waiting for them bob up and down.  They seemed to be content to just ride the top of the water.  To be honest it suited me just fine

I had been under that tree for a couple of hours, when she came.  I had been reading a cheap paperback novel and listening to country music on the radio.  At first I guess I just sensed someone standing nearby.  I would have been concerned but I knew it would be someone harmless.  It was a different world that I lived in those days.

"Michael can I talk to you,"  The voice was one I recognized.  I had spoken to her before.  

"Sure June, come on over."

"Mother said not to bother you today, but I really do need to talk."

"Well if you have a problem I can help with it's okay to come to me."  I wasn't at all sure I meant that.

"I know you are not part of this ministry so I feel I can talk to you."

"No I'm just a part time employee.  As a matter of fact, I'm leaving when you go."

"I know. Where are you going?"

"Somewhere south, I don't like the cold any more."  I chuckled. "So what are you agonizing over today."  I could see she was picking at a problem like it was an itchy scab.

"Mother has asked for a contribution.  It isn't a lot of money, but I paid for the retreat, I don't feel I owe her anything more."

"You said contribution, doesn't that mean it's up to you?"

"Yes but she is adamant that she needs the money to help other women."

"I thought her clientele was all rich?"

"She says she has other congregations that are not so fortunate as I.  She says it is up to women like me to help others who need to find happiness as well."

"Well that sounds reasonable I suppose, but it really should be up to you to decide.  If you think you can help then maybe you should.  If you don't want to help, that is up to you I would think."

She seemed satisfied that I had told her it was okay not to contribute.  She kissed me quickly then started to leave.  "Oh June, how much were you supposed to contribute."

"Oh, it's just a hundred thousand, but still I just don't like being pressured."  I tried not to look shocked as she turned to leave.

I had Maggie on my mind when I awoke the next morning.  There were only two more days of the retreat.  I supposed that it was the reason for the contribution pressure by the Reverend.  If the women hadn't committed by then, she was making her final pitch.  I wondered what kind of pressure she was bringing to bear.  If she was simply doing a hard sale that was one thing, but if she was going past that it could easily be called a con game.  It looked as though Heidi might be on to something after all.  After all it wasn't all that far from the PTL scandal of Jim and Tammy Faye Baker.

I decided before I took any action of any kind that I needed more information.  The information could come only from the women.  What I didn't want to do was make it sound like an investigation.  I had no idea how far the Reverend would go to protect her game. I was also sure that I didn't want to know.  

Since the bike was running again, I went to breakfast at the pier.  I didn't give it any thought while I was riding.  There were too many other things that needed my attention while I rode.  During breakfast I began to calculate.  It it was a hundred K times 25 women.  That would be two and a half million per session.  I knew there would be at least one more session.  That was a lot of money.  Like the politician said, a million here and a million there and pretty soon you are talking about real money.   Hell a thousand dollars was real money to me.

I decided over my eggs that I would quietly see if any of the other women had been approached.  I would also check with Maggie to see what if any additional pressure the Reverend brought to bear on her.

The ride back to the retreat was uneventful, even though I was paranoid about the bike breaking down.  I hadn't given it much thought till the chain incident.  I really was concerned by that time.  The old cell phone thing wouldn't do much good if there was no one to call.  Outside the gate to the retreat I called Heidi.

"Hello," she said.

"Heidi, it's me Michael we need to talk."

"When?"

"The retreat is over on Friday, meet me on the pier on Saturday.  What time is good for you?"

"How about noon?" she suggested.

"That's fine I'm not planning to leave till Monday morning so anytime is fine.  I am going to check into a motel on Friday and get myself ready to leave."

"Good idea, you want to be out of there before we meet."

"Yeah, I won't be going back there after Friday.  Not sure when or where I will be staying after I take the last of the women to the airport in Savannah."  That was pretty much the end of the conversation.

Once inside the compound, I rode straight to the trailer.  I sat over a cup of coffee while I waited for the radio to squawk. When it did, it was the days kitchen workers.  "Michael, we have the list ready for you."

"I'll be right down," I informed her.  After a few seconds of thought, I walked from the trailer to the parking lot.  From the parking lot I walked toward the main house.  I got waylaid by one of the women.

"Michael, I need to ask you a question."

"Of course, if it won't take long, I have to go grocery shopping.  That is if you want to eat."

"Another school cafeteria meal," she laughed.

"Well I thought it was a school cafeteria meal served on fine china."  I smiled to let her know I also got the joke.

"Well the food is better than I remember school food but the menu is the same.  I have to admit the naps are a real change and for the better."

"Naps?" I asked.

"Yes we have three hours of quiet time after lunch.  Everybody just take a nap.  It's really quite refreshing."

It was at that moment that I finally made the connection.  The Reverend somehow was slipping the antihistamines into the lunch.  Twenty minutes after we all ate, we were groggy.  Quite time was to make sure everybody was lured to nap.  The Reverend insisted I have lunch with the group so I got to take my nap as well.  I had no idea what that was all about and didn't really care.

"So what do you need to ask me?" 

"Well when I get back, I think I'm going to ask my husband for a divorce.  I was wondering if you would like to meet for lunch when you get to Florida."

"Well I won't be there for a while," I replied.

"That's okay," She handed me a card.  It gave me her business address and phone number.  "Call me at the office.  I know I'll be there, I'm not sure where I will be living."

"I just might do that, if I get to your neck of the woods."  I paused a moment then ask, "Did you make your contribution yet?"

"Why," she asked.  "I didn't think you were part of the ministry."

"I'm not, I just wondered if you could afford that kind of money, if you are planning a divorce."  I hope that I covered myself with that explaination.

"Hell, it's my money.  John will be lucky if he can afford gasoline for his boat when it's over."

"Good for you, then I'll stop worrying about you."

"You were worried, that is so sweet.  No I'm fine.  The contribution isn't really all that much anyway."

I intentionally didn't ask her how much was not all that much to her.

"Michael are you sure there is nothing I can do to convince you to stay?"  The Reverend was counting out my two weeks pay for me as she spoke.

"No, like I said at the beginning I'm just passing through.  I'm on my way south."

"I swear I'm going to miss you."  She said that in a tone I had never heard her use.  She sounded almost soft and feminine.  It didn't help her case as at all, I was out of there already in my mind.

"Well thanks, but I'm headed out of here just as soon as I get that envelope you have in your hands."  I meant the envelope with a few hundred dollar bills.

"I put in a few extra dollars you sure earned it.  I do wish you well Michael.  I doubt that I will be able to find anyone else as good at what you do."

"Oh, I'm sure there are lots of guys better with tools than me."

"It isn't just the tools, you have been a real friend to the guests and I appreciate it."

"Thanks, would you mind if I spent one more night in the trailer.  I'll leave first thing in the morning."

"Stay as long as you like.  You know I would love to have you stay for the summer."

"No thanks but I will spend the night."  I had no place in mind to go, so why not spend another night free.  On my way out the door I sat the radio on a table.  It was the last thing I had of hers.

I slept well that night, even though I was a little nervous about what was to come.  Always the unknown makes me a little antsy till I jump into it.  I just packed up my gear and headed off to the pier about ten in the morning on Saturday.

Heidi found me at the end of the pier.  I had already eaten a hot dog so I sat looking out at the water.  The ocean always changes my perspective on things.  When I sat down on the bench, I was wondering what I should do about the Reverend and her cast of characters.  After an hour and a half of contemplating how vast it was and how small we all were, I decided what I was going to do.

"So, what have you found out?"  It was Heidi who asked.  The redheaded kid with her didn't speak at all.

"Who's your friend?"

"Michael this is Edward, Edward Michael Burke,"  She went right on before we had a chance to speak to each other.  "So what is her game?"

"There is nothing illegal going on out there that I could tell.  She is giving the women a chance to return to a simpler way of life for a couple of weeks and a chance to think things over.  If there is anything more sinister I didn't see it."

"Is that all?"  Heidi was very disappointed it seemed.

"Well to be honest, she is probably making a hell of a lot more money than any of us, but as far as I can tell it's just contributions to her ministry what ever that is.  She might be browbeating them for contributions, but she isn't starving anyone or drugging them."  I chose not to discuss the antihistamine use with her.

"So it was a waste of two weeks?"

"From your point of view yes, from my point of view, I made a few bucks and rested up before going back on the road.  Now that I have done that, I headed back on the road to finish my little trip."

"I just know something isn't right with that woman," Heidi said to the young man with her.

"So Edward, what is your interest."

"I work for the news department of the local TV station." He looked bored as well he should have.  It was my guess that he had plans for Heidi, so his day wasn't a complete waste.

"Well Michael I guess I should say thank you for staying  around to check things out for me."

"Well it was something worth seeing, so I have no regrets."

I changed my mind about a motel.  I decided to just move on down the line instead.

I got as far as Darien Ga before I was completely worn out.  I made only 60 odd miles that day, but it was a lot for half a day's travel.  The campground was a commercial site.  I planned to throw my tarp over the bike and trailer and sleep under it.  

Since it was June I had a few hours till bedtime, so I left the trailer and went shopping.  It had been a while since I was forced to cook.  I wanted to make chili but I couldn't make less than a ton of it, so instead I bought a container of chicken salad from the deli of a chain grocery store.  There was little doubt that the chicken was old but then I didn't really care as long as it didn't make me sick.  I also bought a loaf of bread, a package of chips, and a box of cookies.  The campground had ice and a coke machine.  Everything would be over priced, but I didn't really mind at that moment. 

The grocery store even had small containers of two cycle oil.  I tossed three into my buggy.  I knew there were things I should be buying, but I just couldn't think.  The two weeks of being in one place had dulled my road survival skills. 

After a leisurely meal of sandwiches and chips, I road back up the road on my bike.  I filled a grocery store bag full with bits of dead wood.  I was planning to make coffee the next morning for sure.  

My lean to smelled of gasoline but I didn't mind there was plenty of ventilation so I wasn't worried.  It was different sleeping on the ground again, but I didn't bother to make a trash bag mattress.  When I awoke Sunday morning, I realized that I should have.  I broke camp without making the coffee.  I was so uncomfortable I was in a hurry to get somewhere to sit in a padded chair while I drank coffee and ate eggs.  

After a less than wonderful breakfast in a fast food restaurant near an Interstate highway, I headed for Jacksonville Florida.  I hit town in the mid afternoon and found a campground just south of town an hour later.  Being outside town it got me out of the worst of the traffic so I could relax more or less.  It was again a commercial place so pickings were scarce.  It was easier just to pick up enough food for the evening.  Then I just eat from grocery store contains.  The site had a picnic table so I draped the tarp over it and slept more or less under it.

Since I had pushed the shower thing two days, I removed the rolled up spare underwear and tee shirt from the trailer before I went to the bathhouse.  I always felt better after the shower, and I did again.  I didn't care much for commercial campgrounds but I didn't really have the time or energy to go looking for a municipal one.  It was hot and the heat sapped my energy quickly.  Still the heat was far better than the cold  which I had experienced just a few months before.

"Hey, did you build that bike?"  The question came from a man a few years older than me.

"More or less, it's a kit motor on a used bike."

"Was it hard to build?"  Since he really seemed interested, I put off packing up to talk to him.

"Well it took a lot longer than they say, but it was an experience I don't regret.  If you go on line there are a couple of forums dedicated to these bikes.  You can learn a lot there.  When I started, they weren't as good as they are now."

"If you don't mind me asking what did it cost?"

"Not at all, the bike cost ten bucks but I changed the wheel and made a few modifications as you can tell.  I probably have twenty five bucks in the bike itself.  No make that thirty five I bought that fancy chrome chain for it.  That cost more than the bike.  The one on it was a rust bucket."  I watched him begin to look suspiciously like he was having second thoughts.  I hurried to reassure him. "You can buy a new cruiser at Walmart for under a hundred bucks.  I just enjoy messing with old things."

"The motor was a kit from ebay.  It was about a hundred and fifty dollars and then I replaced a few control parts just because I didn't like the kit ones.  All in all I probably have two hundred in the kit.  I have about two hundred and fifty bucks in this bike.  If you went with a new bike, and stayed with the kit parts, you probably are looking at three to three and half hundred dollars."

"And what would you charge to put one together for me?"  

"I never thought about that to be honest.  Frankly the shipping would be outrageous.  Take a look on line and you can probably find a bike builder near you.  Actually it is more fun to find a mentor on one of those sites and just build it yourself.  There is a lot of satisfaction in building it then riding it.  You get to meet a lot of new people just like you."   We exchanged a few more words then he left.  So as not to offend him I took his card.  I planned to use it to start my campfire that night.

The congestion of traffic and the number of intersecting roads along highway one forced me to do something I really did not want to do.  I pulled into a shopping center along highway one.  The shopping center was anchored by a Circuit City store.  I purchased a gps navigational system for a hundred and fifty dollars.  It was as much as the bike's engine kit had cost me but I felt that it had become necessary.  I didn't make very good time that Tuesday.  It had to do with the number of cars on the road and the number of people who flagged me down to talk about the bike.

At midday I switched to state highway 11 and progress was a little better.  I probably made fewer miles per hour but it was a lot less nerve wracking.  I pushed on to a small town named Deland.  Delands claim to fame was a very old college campus.  Stetson University was on the national registry of historical places or some such thing.  I found a place to camp outside of town.  Since I had been traveling all day I picked up something for dinner before I rode to the campground.

"How long you staying?" the old lady with barn red hair on her head and a cigarette dangling from her mouth asked.

"Just tonight." I said it without thinking.  I needed to start looking for a place to light.  The weather was definitely warm enough.  It must have been 90 degrees at 7pm when stepped outside.  I didn't ask the old lady because she didn't seem to be interested in talking.

The weather was so hot and dry, I put the tarp over the bike on the outside possibility that  a shower might pop up.  There was nothing to do so I played with the gps thing.  The problem with it was that you needed to know where you were going.  I was more or less drifting so I had to choose a destination before it was of any use.

I spent two nights in the orange grove, but the trailer was ready to go on the second morning and so was I.  I was dead sure that it was time to get off the road for a while.  The trailer was a good indication that the equipment was as tired of traveling as I.  I took to the road again.  I followed the smaller state and county roads whenever possible.  I pushed hard that day.  I looking for a place to settle even if I didn't realize it.  Somewhere smaller and in south Florida had been my plan all along.

"Hey there Mister, is that your bike outside?" It was the girl half of a teenaged couple who asked.

"It sure is," I replied without too much enthusiasm. 

"You taking a trip? I couldn't help but notice the camping stuff."  That came from the male half of the couple.  They were obviously close if hanging all over each other was an indicator.

" Actually I'm looking for a place to settle.  Some small town around here would be nice I think.  Do you happen to know of a place?"

"If it was to be me, I would head over to the gulf side.  Get away from these Atlantic 'canes."  That came from one of the other diners in the small town cafe.  He looked to be a construction worker of some kind.  Mostly Cubans down in this part of Florida these days."  I wasn't sure how he meant it but I had already figured it out and come to grips with it.

"How about the name of a town over on the Gulf size.  Some where small and not too expensive would be nice."

"Best thing for you to do is catch highway 17 and just ride it till you find something," the man said.  Since the kids had drifted off, it seemed like the best idea.

Highway 17 dumped me just outside Port Saint Louise late in the afternoon.  I liked the name enough to give it a good look.  The more I looked the happier I was.  Port Saint. Louise had a population of under fifty thousand, but it was only a short distance to a lot more people.  It was about a hundred miles south of Tampa.   Since I had no desire to live in a larger town, it looked like a place to at least lite for a while.

If the truth be known, I had grown tired of the road.  I felt sure it would be a good place to use as a base at least for a while.  I was even more convinced when I was asked about the bike half a dozen times before I even checked into a motel.  Most of those asking were obvious retirees.  The blue hair set, yes even women asked about the bike, seemed really interested in cheap transportation.  Some of the senior ladies were in pretty good shape for any age.  It must have been all that golf, since there seemed to be signs for golf courses everywhere.

It was getting late so I began thinking about a place to stay.  It was too late to look for anything more than a temporary shelter.  "Hi there," I said to the woman behind the counter in a convenience store that also sold take out. 

"What can I get for you?"  She smiled showing what had to be false teeth.  She couldn't have been more than forty I thought.

"How about a couple of hot dogs and a bag of chips," I suggested.

"What you want on them dogs?"

"However you fix them for yourself with be just fine.  How about a coke as well, make it diet please"  While she made the hot dogs I asked.  "Is there a good cheap motel around here."

"Got two motels here that I know of.  One is for tourists from the highway stuck here over night.  That one is not cheap, but the other one has a cutting or shooting about every week."

"Looks like I have no choice," I said that walking the dogs outside.  I sat at one of the three picnic tables made of at least eight people to eat my dogs and drink my coke.   It was late enough so that moving on wasn't really an option.

I went back inside after I decided not to move on again that evening. "Hey is there a place to camp out around here?"  I asked it of the cashier at the front of the store.  He was a youngish looked kid probably at least half Cuban.

"Yes, if you go through town and turn right onto Harborside Road  there will be signs to the country recreational area.  There are a few spaces there.  They are usually full, but they might have an open one for an old biker," he smiled.  I was carrying my motorcycle helmet in my hand so I was pretty easy to spot.

When I got outside I punched Harborside Road into my the gps and it gave me much better directions.  I could have gotten the same information from the gps unit if I had remembered it.  But I wouldn't have known about the cuttings and shootings at the cut rate motel.

The campground was nothing special.  It was one of those older mom and pop things.  The entrance was beside a well kept mobile home.  The couple who lived in the Mobile home were the park owners.

"Mostly we rent to recreational vehicle and camping trailers, don't get many biker types," the old man said.  He was a bird skinny specimen.  I was a pretty healthy looking guy.  I guess I might have been a bit intimidating, but I was certainly no biker type.  I laughed before I spoke.

"I don't think a motorized bicycle owner is really a biker."  I laughed again.

"I guess not," he finally replied.

"I don't suppose you need any hookups so how about I charge you half price and you camp in the back of the bathhouse?" 

'That sounds just fine to me.  I just need a place to sleep tonight, and maybe a couple more while I find a place to live."

"Oh you planning to stay around?"  It was the older woman with the flashy blonde hair who asked.

"Yes Ma'am I plan to hang around a while.  Not sure if it's a forever after kind of thing, but at least for a while."  

That sort of ended the conversation.  I moved the bike and trailer to the open space behind the bathhouse.  It was flat but there were a few trees.  I didn't need much else.  There were bugs of course, but bugs never bothered me much.  The Florida mosquitoes just weren't any match for some of those middle eastern insects.

I slept reasonably well even though it was on the ground.  I didn't bother to make a trash bag mattress.  I didn't figure the old couple would take kindly to it.   It didn't matter much since I planned for it to be my last night camping out.

The small town had an old fashioned diner and that was a big plus.  The walls were painted institutional green and the grease on them hadn't been changed in twenty years at least.  The food was as good as the look of the place had promised it would be.

"So what's it like to live here?"  I asked it of no one in particular even though the waitress stood over me at the time.

"Well I can't wait to get out of here.  There is nothing at all to do around here."  She said it turning to leave.  She obviously didn't want to talk about her home town.

"Teenagers," I said to that no one in particular again.

"Mister, it's a nice quiet little town.  Pretty hard to keep it that way with all the tourists passing bye but we manage."

"That's good.  I'm looking for a place to rent.  A small house or apartment would do but not too expensive."

"Get yourself a newspaper, we still list stuff like that in the paper."

I spent the day riding around looking the town over before I made a move.  I rode in what seemed like circles for two hours.  It was actually a fun ride.  I slipped in and out of rough looking neighborhoods but none as rough as a big city's better parts.

I stumbled onto the bible college just after lunch.  The campus was only three large buildings.  Two of them looked like residence halls and one main academic building.  There was also a small chapel in the center of the campus.  It was a small school I had no idea how many students but I was sure it couldn't be too many.  

There was an old run down commercial area across from the rear of the bible college campus.  It consisted of about five attached building with dirty brick fronts and cracked glass.  Some of the glass had been replaced with plywood.

I suppose the size and nature of the school ruled out night clubs.  I had to laugh at that thought for some reason.  The one building that seemed to be active was a grocery store with lunch counter.  There was also an insurance office and a boutique of some kind.  

I almost rode right past it.  The it was a closed service station.  Well it probably hadn't been a service station in years, but it had the unmistakable design of a 1950s style service station.  On down the street was the modern version.  A convenience store with gas pumps and a gaudy sign was the most popular business on the block for sure.

It was on a pure whim that I called the number on the old service station window.  "Good morning, Intercoastal realty," the female voice said.

"Good morning, My name is Michael Burke, I'm sitting in front of a piece of property with your sign in the window.  I would like to speak to an agent about it please."

"What property is that Mr. Burke?"

"It's an old service station building behind the Port Saint Louise bible college."

"That would be Edna Parcell, hold please."  She was gone before I could object, not that I would have.  I listened to classic rock music interspersed with messages about how valuable my call was.  

I was on the verge of dropping the call when another woman's voice asked. "Mister Burke, what can I do for you?"

"First of all you can tell me what the deal is on the service station behind the bible college.  I can see it's for sale, will the owner rent it, with an option to buy it in a year."

"He really does want to sell it," she said skeptically.

"Okay then I'm not interested."  I waited about a minute after that to see what she would say."

"Well I can ask him," she observed.

"One more thing, is there any reason I couldn't sleep in the building while I get my business started?"

"No there is no ordinance, but there also isn't a shower."

"I can see that there are two bathrooms with outside entrances.  I can make this work  Don't worry.  I would want a free hand to remodel while I'm renting.  Of course with the understanding that  if I do buy what I do stays.  The sale price to be agreed upon now, not after I  improve the place."

"Well let me talk to the owner and I'll get back to you."

"Please hurry Miss Parcell, I need to find a place to live today."

"Give me your number and I'll get back with you in a few minutes."  I recited my number for her then sat in the shade with a coke from the convenience store down the block.  I finished the coke and was about to nap when the phone rang.

"Hello," I know I sounded half asleep because I was.

"Mr. Burke?"

"Yes this is Michael Burke,"

"This is Edna Parcell, when would you like to see the property?"

"Well I'm sitting outside of it now."

"Just wait where you are, I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

It was more like half an hour when she did show up.  "Mr. Burke, I'm Edna."

"Nice to meet you.  So what's the deal going to be?"

"Why don't we take a look first?"

"Okay, but if the money isn't right, no matter what I see, I'm not buying it."

"Humor me," she said with a smile.  For a woman almost my age she was well preserved.  Of course cosmetic surgery might have been in her history for all I knew.

The door needed painting in the worst way.  Hell all of the woodwork needed painting.  The cinder block walls had always been gray so the only problem with them was mildew.  The mildew cure  was just a matter of being sprayed with bleach to clean it off.  

Inside the building was another matter entirely.  The single repair bay was painted with what had once been a light green enamel.  It still had it's shine under the many layers of grease.  The floor was unpainted concrete.  The only upside was the amount of light in the bay.  That light came from wall to wall windows near the ceiling.  The fact that they were above the eight of most people probably saved them from destruction.  

There was no ceiling as such.  The wooden trusses were exposed in the shop area.  The building was one of those very cheap structures.  It was built before auto repair shops tried to look like anything except what they were.  The office area was larger than I would have expected.  It was also had institutional green paint on the walls.  There floor was black and white tile It was half the depth of the building on the left side.  On the outside wall behind it were two bathrooms.  Between the rear wall of the bathrooms and the repair bay was a reasonable sized storage area.  In other words it was a typical 1950 are service station.

"Are the gas tanks gone?"  I asked it because the ape had a habit of forcing service stations to replace their old tanks.  Even ones that were no longer in use

"Yes they were removed a couple of years ago.  Nothing in them but still they had to be removed.  The owner never replaced them.  Frankly the land is worth  more than the building."  Edna said it and I knew that it was a hint that I wasn't going to be able to afford the building.

"So now I have seen the building how much does he want for it?"

"One fifty," she said with a straight face.

"You are kidding right?  This place isn't worth half of that amount."

"It's the land."

"Sure it is, there are a half dozen boarded up building that I can see from here.  There doesn't seem to be much demand for land on this side of town unless it is for an instant slum."

"Well you are entitled to your opinion I suppose," Edna was trying her best to act outraged.  We both knew it didn't matter to her what I thought as long as I bought something.  She was in the sales game, she wasn't married to the property.  She wasn't the owner after all.

"Tell him I'll buy it for $75K after a year of renting it for $500 a month for one year.  I'll do all the repairs the place needs in the meantime."  I knew it was too low a figure and I also knew I wasn't going to negotiate so I had already begun to think of my next move.  "The rental offer is only good if he agrees to sell it for that price.  I'm not putting money into the place and lose it a year later."

I hated that I had wasted two hours messing with the realtor.  I decided right there not to do that again.  What I needed was a very temporary place to stay while I looked for something else.  This rushing to find just the right place was counter productive.  I suddenly decided that I needed a place with a roof and I needed it immediately.

I found a quiet diner after the realty lady left.  I checked out the apartments for rent and found nothing that interested me.  It looked like I was going to have no luck at all and would be at the campground again.  The answer didn't come from the apartments or houses for rent section since it was mostly long term rentals.  There was however a small section for rooms for rent.  There were only two listings.

One was in a small town to the east while another was in Port Saint Louise.  The one in PSL was looking for a mature man or woman.  Someone quiet and responsible was preferred.  I used the cell phone to make the call right away.

"Hello," it was an older man who answered the phone.

"Hi, my name is Michael Burke and I'm calling about your room for rent."

"It's $300 a month, furnished and has a private bath.  It is over the garage though."

"That's not a problem for me.  So when can I look at it?"

"First of all how old are you and where do you work?"

"I'm fifty nine and retired for the government.  I just moved here and need a place to stay."  I did not mention that it most likely would be temporary.  I was pretty sure the old man needed the income.  Why else would you rent the room over your garage.  I also didn't mention that I rode a noisy motor bike.

I left the diner immediately then rode to his house.  The house was near the bible college.  The bible college was located in an older section of town so I wasn't all that surprised to find the house to be at least 75 years old.

The old man answered the door.  I introduced myself and he did the same.  "I didn't realize you rode a motorcycle?"  

"It isn't really a motorcycle.  It's just a bicycle with a motor on it.  I'm not in good enough shape to pedal one that far."

"So where you from," he asked.

"North Carolina," I replied.

"And you rode that all the way from there?"

"Yes but it was over a couple of weeks."  I didn't figure I owed him any more explanation than that.

"Well you got a job here?"

"Not yet but like I said on the phone, I'm retired.  I have time to look around for something to do."

"Well my thinking is, I want someone who is going to stay a while.  Don't need no tourist who is just down for the fishing."

"I'm planning to stay, what would it take to convince you of that?"  I asked it knowing that the old man was looking for a financial guarantee.

"Two months rent in advance.  I'll hold one as the last months rent so that I get at least thirty days notice one way or the other."  He didn't smile or make any other gesture to soften the demand.

"Let me see the place.  If it is acceptable, I can deal with the money issue."  

The old man led the way down the drive to the rear of the house.  At the end of the drive was a 1 3/4 story Dutch barn type garage.  A set of wooden steps led up to the second story room with a view of the neighborhood.  The neighborhood wasn't much, but it wasn't a slum either.  It was just an old neighborhood filled with old people and some lower middle class new arrivals.  There were swing sets in some of the backyards I could see.  There were some children or some grand children around.  With a little luck I wouldn't have to deal with screaming kids too often.

Inside the room it was dark.  There were two small windows in the front and sliding door in the rear.  I looked out the sliding door.  It had the same view as the one from the entry stairs, only more of it.  There was a small balcony outside the cheap sliding door unit.  On the balcony sat a small box.  The box could have been a seat of some kind.  The old man saw my questioning look.

"Rope ladder it's required that the place had a front entrance and rear exit.  That is the rear exit."

The room itself was pretty strange as rooms go.  The space had no more than the bear minimum wall floor and ceiling finishes.  As a matter of fact there was no ceiling just painted trusses with styrofoam insulation between.  The walls were probably the same with cheap paneling to hide the frame.  On the floor was the most inexpensive carpet known to man.  The old man's idea of furnished was a twin bed with a small end table and lamp along one wall.  That one lamp was the only light.

"I figured people would want to finish it off the way they wanted," he said.  He had obviously seem my lack of enthusiasm for his idea of furnished.  Still it had a roof and a bed.  At that moment I didn't need much else.  I also figured that furniture would come easily from the many yard sales around town.  I could always rent a uhaul for that.  I  had no intention of buying a car or truck just to get the place furnished.

I reached into my pocket to pull out the roll of bills the Reverend had given me.  I peeled off six, one hundred dollar bills.  "I'd like a receipt for that please."

"I don't have a receipt book, I can write you a receipt on a piece of paper,"  I took the bills from him.

"When you find something to write it on, then you can have it back,"  I said that looking hard at him.  It was time we had a meeting of the minds.  I would play by his rules, but I was not without my own rules.  Another thought struck me.  "Where can I store the bike?"

"I guess you could put it in the garage not much in there these days."

"Well find something to write the receipt on and we have a deal."

He left me alone in the room while he went to look for paper and pen.  I could see the long thin room divided into areas.  It would be tight but it was infinitely workable as an office with a bed in it.  I just had to decide what kind of business I wanted to operate.

The moving in was no big thing.  I went back to the park to pick up my trailer.  With the trailer in hand I rode back to my new room without a view.  I worked the trailer up the narrow stairs without too awfully much trouble.  I had my first bit of furniture since the trailer became my first mobile storage unit. 

I slept really well that first night.  The new set of noises didn't bother me in the least.  Having been on the move for a month had forced me to adapt to new sounds every night.  I awoke that first morning not quite ready to start the new day.  I even lay in bed thinking about what I would do first.

After just a few minutes hunger began to drive my thinking.  My thinking was about where not what to eat.  I hadn't really found a restaurant, diner, or cafe that I liked.  I knew that I would.  Port Saint Louise was like every other town in America, somewhere on the backside would be an old style eatery.  It was just a matter of looking for it.  I had no confidence that the kind of place I wanted would be on the gps, so I left it locked in the apartment.

Since it was early, I pedaled the bike out to the street.  I even pedaled it past the front of the old man's house before I dropped the clutch.  It took a few pedals to start it that first time but it did come to life within a few yards.  

Since I had ridden around the bible college already, I went in a totally different direction.  The bible college and my new residence were both within a half mile of the downtown.  I had never really been all the way downtown, so I rode the main street all the way through the four blocks of the built up section of the main street.  My guess was that there were several more building along the side streets so I circled for a while.

I found the downtown diner after I headed down a side street near the county courthouse.  Once I saw the county courthouse I knew there would be a diner nearby.  It wouldn't be the least expensive one in town but there is always one near a smalltown courthouse.

In the case of Lucy's Downtown Diner the food was pretty good.  Not great but then I had eggs and sausage so it was hard to tell what the other cooking would be like.  I doubted that the man at the grill was Lucy so I asked the waitress.  

"So are you Lucy?" I asked it with a smile.  There was zero chance that the twenty something girl with the spiked hair and pierced nose was anything but a waitress.

"No Lucy was the women who started the place.  That is her son doing the cooking.  He runs the place now.  You new here or just passing through."

"I'm new but haven't made a final decision yet as to whether I will stay or not."

"Do you fish?"

Remembering my coke bottle rig I replied, "Not enough to call myself a fisherman."

"Too bad that's about all there is to do here.  Small towns like this don't have a lot going on.  We mostly drive into Tampa to party."

"Well, I'm a little old for parties so I expect this place will suit me."

"Lot of golf around, and of course those rich folks communities outside of town.  We hardly ever see them though.  Those places have all their own stuff.  Now and then one will be here going to traffic court or something.  You can always tell them by the clothes."  I didn't ask anything else, I knew that I would figure that one out for myself later.

After the good, but not great breakfast, I headed out for a long drive just to get used to the town.  There was the Sheriff's office near the courthouse but I didn't see a jail.  I had a feeling there were holding cells in the courthouse and probably a county farm type facility somewhere.  If you had to do some time, they say a country farm is the way to go.  It was obviously a mostly rural county.  Well as rural as anything could be in Florida.

Out near the major highway a couple of miles out of town there was a modern shopping plaza.  My new town pretty much had all that I needed except a large viable market.   I had no idea what product or service I wanted to try next.

I couldn't see there being a great demand for my particular skill set.  Then again it was a very specialized field and I knew that I would never again be able to practice that profession.  I had known all along that I would need to find a new life.  I couldn't see much of a market for anything I could easily move to into at that moment.

Since I couldn't think of any business to start, I spent my first few days in the apartment resting from the long ride and acquiring things as I thought of them.  With the high price of gasoline the bike was ideal to run out and buy just one item as I thought of it.  With the trailer attachedd I was surprised how many thing I was able to drag home without a car or truck.

The first thing I bought was one of those folding director chairs.  It wasn't the most comfortable chair I ever sat in but I would be fine to use as a general purpose chair.  It was followed later that day by a dorm sized refrigerator which also fit on the trailer.  It took up all the space and was heavy enough to slow the bike down considerably.  

The next day I bought a knockdown microwave cart with a space underneath large enough for the small refrig.  It also had a shelf large enough for a small toaster oven which was my next purchase.  Since the room had a tiny camper style bath there was water available.

Everything in the bath was downsized to fit the smaller side wall it sat on.  I didn't mind the setup since any bathroom was a bonus to me. After a lifetime of strange bathrooms, it was just one more.  

The room was taking on a livable quality very quickly.  For the first couple of days my radio was my only entertainment.  I searched the area for a wireless connection I could pirate onto, but nothing seemed to pop up.  I looked at my internet connection needs and came to the conclusion I did not need a speedy connection.  

I needed a new cell phone plan anyway, so I made a special trip to the cell phone store near me.  Without going into brand, they had a deal on a cell phone plan.  Unlimited local calls in and out but no long distance which suited me just fine.  Long distance and roaming calls were pretty expensive but I didn't plan to use them.  I could also buy a modem at a one time charge.  It gave me only the ability to use a dial up ISP but that again was fine with me.  I had no need for speed.

I made the switch on the spot.  The plan was only 25 a month plus tax, they threw in a cheapo phone but I paid for the modem and connection cord.  It still seemed like a good deal to me.  They also had software for most of the dial up services on CD at the phone shop.  I took the disk for People's PC.  I was one of those unlimited access cheapo ISPs.

When I got home I signed up and began using the much slower service.  It wasn't so slow that it was a pain but it was noticeable.  After I established the connection I updated my blog which had somehow found a small audience why I had no idea.

After juggling the laptop for twenty minutes I shut it down and went looking for a small table of some kind.  I almost didn't see the Goodwill Store.  It was located in one of the older shopping area of Port Saint Louise.  The building must have once been a dry good store or something of the kind since it was very open.  I always think of those old building as having walls inside them but not that one.

I found a coffee maker still in the box.  The clerk swore that it was new.  Coffee makers are cheap enough that I would have picked up one a Walmart except the Walmart store was in the next town.  It was a thirty minute ride there.  I knew because it was where I had bought the refrigerator and where the cell phone shoppe was located.

I found two wooden TV trays in the store as well as the coffee maker.  I tied it all on with bungee cords and rode the five blocks home being very very careful.  

The room still looked empty but not quite as empty as before.  Since it wasn't quite dark, I decided to make the half hour trip to the Walmart store again that day.  I had decided to actually buy sheets and a spread for the bed.  I had been sleeping rolled up in a blanket but since the place was beginning to look like something civilized it was probably time I started to live like it myself.

With my old lady basket, my luggage rack on the rear, and trailer dragging behind I must have been a site.  It didn't matter much to me I got things done pretty efficiently.  I had to make ten trips to other folks one just to get the same things home, but I could afford it.  Besides it gave me time to decide if I really wanted that particular item or not.

The first yard sale I went to, I was looking for something to use as a closet.  I had begun to accumulate dollar store clothes and needed a place to store them.  Yes doing laundry was in my future.  I was getting to be a domestic animal in spite of myself.  All the real furniture was either too heavy or to big to move on the bike trailer.  What I bought was a white put together bookcase still in the box.  It was only four shelves but it would be plenty for my small but growing wardrobe.  I was not then and hoped to never be a clothes horse kind of guy.  It was purely jeans and work shirts for me at the moment.  I did own one pair of khaki pants and a white dress shirt.  Those had never been worn, but I figured would work if I had to go to a real meeting with someone important.

The shelves would hold the two pairs of jeans and the khaki pants on one shelf easily.  My five work shirts would fit on another leaving me two shelves for everything else I owned.  Fortunately it was more than enough room.  My life was very minimalist at that time.

That afternoon I made the longer drive to the Wal-mart to buy some clear storage boxes.  When I added those to the shelves, I had a complete storage unit fit for any home.  Okay, any home of a old bachelor that is.

I also bought a two burner stove top unit from a yard sale.  With the counter tops burner unit and the toaster oven I had pretty much a tiny electric cook stove.  The old man hadn't said a word about no cooking in the room over the garage.  I was worried about the draw of the counter top appliance.  The Dorm refrig wouldn't pull many amps I knew, nor would the halogen toaster oven, but the old style cook top unit might.  One popped breaker and I expected my cooking days would be over.

Nonetheless by Sunday of the first week I was pretty much settled in.  After the little room was pretty much full of junk, my mind again turned again to how I would fill the days.  Mindless TV didn't seem like a viable plan, nor did  endless hours on the computer.  I had always been physically active and wished to remain so.  Okay not like I had been but at least something moving about to make the day go by.

Of course the messenger service thing had never completely left my mind.  In a town as small as Port Saint Louise, there would be almost zero demand.  It was kind of a catch 22.  There was no messenger service like what I proposed anywhere outside of huge metro areas.  Even they weren't like what I had in mind.  In a small town there would be even smaller need or so I thought.  Since I had no other ideas, I decided to give it a shot.  Try to create my own demand so to speak.

I made the 19mile ride to the outskirts of the larger town.  There I found the office depot right where my gps told me it would be.  I ordered a thousand business cards.  My offer was simple.  An inexpensive, unique, hometown same day deliver and shopping service.  I used a picture of me and the bike make by the clerk at store (for a fee of course) on the card as well.  I had my cell phone number, the one with the all you can eat plan, added to the card.

The clerk suggested the huge blowup of the business card as a sign for the bike.  I went along willingly.  My bill for all that was under thirty five bucks so I was thrilled.  Even better he did it all right in the store while I waited.  The clerk and I had rigged up a kind of sandwich board thing that fit inside the new rear basket I had attached to the luggage rack.  It would lay flat if I needed the space to carry things but could be opened to a kind of pyramid while I roamed around town.

I didn't buy a business license.  I planned to act dumb if anyone asked about it.  

Bright and early on Monday morning I put on the khaki pants and white shirt.  I also began handing out my new business card.  I went to every store and restaurant in town.  Then to the businesses, every insurance agency and lawyer's office I could find.  As a final attempt to get my name out, I went to the courthouse and just handed out cards to everyone who stopped to look at the bike.  An hour of sitting in one spot handing out cards seemed to be more than enough time.

I got my first call later on that afternoon.  It was from the drugstore pharmacy.  They had a prescription that had to be delivered right away.  The five dollar delivery fee in town wasn't going to be a problem he assured me.  

I carried a clipboard into the drugstore. On it I wrote the delivery address and the time of my pickup.   "Now you are sure the customer understands that there is a charge?"

"Yes," I explained that to her."  The pharmacist was a very attractive middle aged lady but a bit snippy with her words..

"You also understand that if she refuses to pay, I'm coming to you for the money."  

"Yes I understand.  You don't have to worry Mr. Burke, Miss Wilson needs these drugs too much to quibble."  The pharmacist didn't look happy that I was questioning her.

 "If she won't pay,  I am bring them back.  Business is business," I replied.

"You are not a very pleasant man," she informed me.

"Actually, my late wife used to say that I'm a pain the butt."  Why I said that I have no idea.  I was embarrassed by my obvious flirting statement so I turned and walked away.

The delivery was ten blocks from the store.  Sure enough the woman who met me at the door handed me eight dollars for the five dollar delivery.   When I tried to return the surplus, she just smiled and closed the door.  I took that to mean tipping was optional from then on.

It was my only delivery for a couple of days.  My next delivery was for an insurance agent.  Well the agent was out of town and the check was to go to a client for a work related accident.  The secretary informed me that they needed a witnessed signature on the receipt.  I could be both the delivery person and the witness.  It worked out real well for her.  She didn't look quite as happy when I informed her that the charge would be five bucks each way.  After all I had to return the receipt.  

Later that same day I delivered a bag of hot dogs and French fried to a group of workers at the local turkey processing plant.  I didn't even want to know what they did there.  That trip fell into my eight dollar zone.  They paid me the price of the food plus ten bucks for the trip.  

I was not getting rich at the messenger service but it was filling the need I had at the time.  Just enough to do so that I didn't turn into a hermit.  The old man and I worked out a deal for me to use his garage now and then.  I needed it to work on the bike.  He charged me ten bucks for any day I worked on it.  I planned to make the most if it, start early and work late.  Since that was my habit anyway, it seemed to be a just okay deal.

Business wasn't great and I had no idea that it ever would be, but I did need a second bike in case mine was down for repairs.  Being down for repairs was a very possible thing with the Chinese engine bike.  Also the bike it self had to be modified.  I have a bit of a stiff hip.  Not so stiff that I can't pedal a bike when need be, but stiff enough that I can't raise my right leg very high.

When I went back to biking, after years of not riding often, I right away that I needed shorter pedal strokes and a lower rear end.  The solution came with a child's twenty inch bike.  I switched out the pedals and the rear wheel for the ones on my old cruiser bike.  Then I liked the kids handle bars better so I switched out and painted those.  Thus was born my own style of bike.  With the Chinese engine it got a lot of attention.  I called it the Transylvania Chopper.. It was kind of a Frankenstien's Monster bike.

My plan was to build a second bike while I was between deliveries.  I certainly had the time, but the truth is I wasn't all that enamored with the bike I had.  The little bike was powerful enough, but it required a huge amount of maintenance.  Well not really, but a lot more than an automobile would have required.  The vibrations didn't bother me, but it did shake the nuts and bolts loose every few days.  I had made it part of my routine before starting each day on the road to check them.  Since I was off the road I did it less often, but it still needed to be done.

I didn't care for the chain drive either as it seemed to need regular attention.  Every kind of bike propulsion system I looked at had it's problems.  At least it seemed that way to me.  I put the new build off while I just looked around for some kind of propulsion system.

"I thought about your offer Mrs. Edwards.  If I understood you on the phone you want me to serve your legal papers."

"That's right just the local ones though."

"Do you need to have something signed and return by me?"

"Yes, I need a delivery receipt."

"So if I go out to Johnny Doe's place and he is home and signs up, You want me to return the receipt to you at that moment."

"Yes that's right.  Well at least on the same day."

"Well then you can just take my rate chart and double it for the delivery including return receipt."

"That sounds fair," she replied.  Probably because the messenger service would be about 75% cheaper than the sheriff's service fee.

"Here is your problem,"  I suggested.  "If Johnny isn't home, I can either return the paper to you and charge you full price, or try to find him for an additional fee."

"I see what you mean."  She said that as if it had never occurred to her.  I knew she wasn't that dumb. "I do mostly divorces and no one will be running from you.  How about my secretary calls the person first to be sure they are going to be home.  Then you can do the delivery no fuss no muss."

"That's fine just as long as you know it's carry it out and get it signed, or carry it out and bring it back unsigned the price is the same."

"I don't care much for the sound of that," she replied.

"Well we could do this.  Your secretary calls, I go out and she won't come to the door.  I call you and you call the client to verify he/she has skipped to avoid service.  That will keep us all honest."

"Well I do realize you can't run out there for nothing.  Okay, it sounds reasonable to me."

"One more possibility comes to mind.  Someone says that he/she has run to the store or is at another location.  I will call you and give you a price to pursue it.  Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yes it sounds just fine."  With that she handed me three manila envelopes with addresses.  

"Would you just put a control number on these so I can give you a receipt."  I said that handing them back.  I hadn't spent thirty years in the Government without learning a little about how to cover my ass.  I also had the secretary initial the flat at the edge so that any tampering would show.  That probably wouldn't help but it might.

"Would you get your secretary to make up the receipt for the person to sign saying the envelope appears not to have been tampered with.  I'll be sure to tell them not to sign if it appears to have been."

"You are sure going to a lot of trouble," Ms Edwards said.

"Well I'm just careful or is it paranoid,"  I smiled.  She smiled back.

"By the way, I love your little bike."  With those words she disappeared back into her office.

I sat in her parking lot under a tree and used the GPS to decide where to go first.  I had the envelopes in my basket and in order when I pulled into the street.

I saw it as I rode toward the address on the first of the manila envelopes.  The small purple bicycle was laying by a trash pile about a block from my first destination.  I didn't even stop to look since I had things to do.  I also doubted seriously that it would still be there when I finished my three deliveries.  I didn't stop, but I made a mental note to return by the same route.

I got a little verbal abuse from a man about ten years younger.  He was in the middle of his tirade when the term 'kill the messenger' came to mind.  I wasn't concerned, but I did decide I might want to rethink my charges.  I also decided to have the secretary add a refused service line to the summons.  I had no desire to force delivery on anyone, at least not at ten bucks a pop.

After the three deliveries I made a point to return to the Lawyer's office using a route that took me by the child's bike.  The ugly duckling bike still lay by the road.  I hurried off to make my delivery of the signed receipts and collect my thirty bucks.  I stopped by the Dollar store to purchase two more pairs of the ten dollar khaki slacks.

Even though I doubted the bike would still be on the side of the road, I dropped off the package at home, then hooked up the trailer.  I also loaded up the small wrench set I had bought at the retreat.  Since I had lugged it half way from home, I might as well take it just in case.

The little purple bike was scratch and rusty, but it appeared to be functional.  The wheels were indeed twenty inch and looked to be sound under all the rust.  Removing the front and rear wheels made the bike fit on the trailer much better.  I rode the slowly and carefully during my return to the garage.  I took the wheels up to my room, but left the frame leaning against the rear of the garage.  It was totally out of sight.  I expect that I cold have left it all in the garage but the old man had agreed for me to store the motor bike there.  Nothing else had been mentioned at the time.  Since the old man would try to renegotiate, I decided to just leave well enough alone.

I had time before I was called out for another delivery to check it out pretty thoroughly.  The rear tire was worn, but not worn out.  It was also white which was a bit distressing.  Since it was free, I decided not to be too critical.  the rims were rusty but sound.  Since my own bike had the same kiddie handlebars, I knew that I could use those.  Especially since I had decided to build another bike like mine.  I removed the handlebars and the chain.  Then I pulled the crank set and chain ring.  I had room for those few parts on my rear balcony, but I could never get any more out there.  The next time I came across a bike, I was going to need to arrange for some storage space.

I had absolutely no desire to use a hand pump when I could easily buy a battery powered one for ten bucks at Walmart.  The AC adapter came from  the Goodwill store.  I had once been used with a video game or something of the sort. I picked the one with the largest number of amps from the box of loose converters.  

At the same time that I bought the air pump, I also bought a set of bicycle tire levers and one of the cheap chain tools.  I had rudimentary bicycle tool kit with those purchases.  Building another bike weighed heavily on my mind.  Not so heavily that I didn't appreciate that there was a subway sandwich shop in the Walmart.  I had a steak a cheese sandwich before I headed back to the small room.

The sign on the bike always attracted a lot of attention so I gave out a couple of cards before I left the Walmart parking lot.  The ride home was uneventful, but still I worried about the bike breaking down.  I have no idea why I was concerned suddenly, but I just had a real feeling of impending doom.

By Saturday morning I was bored.  I had a messenger run once or twice a day but I was still left with far too much time on my hands.  Not only that the messenger thing had tied me to the cell phone as well.  I tried not to get myself involved in things that required a huge block of my time.  Things like afternoon movies on TV as well as in theaters.  Not that I even owned a TV.

The Saturday yard sales gave me some focus at least for that one day.  The yard sale at a downtown church is where I found the old cruiser bike.  It was probably at least half my age maybe even a lot more.  It did have a good front wheel, and the frame was solid, those were the two most important things.  The church was asking 10 dollars but took 7.  I first removed the flat tires and tied them to the trailer.  I had pretty much expected any bike I bought to be a mess.  

I took the wheels home to pumped them up.  I decided to walk them back to the yard sale.  It was a short walk but it was a killer lugging the two wheels.  Installing them was easy enough.  At that point I could have pushed the bike home if it came to that.  Instead I was able to ride the bike back to my room over the garage.  The geography of south Florida is almost pancake flat.  The ride was a breeze even for me.  I spent the remainder of the day switching out parts.  In the end I had a bike exactly like the one I had installed my china engine in.  I say in the bike because the engine was inside the frame.  There were other engines that hung on the outside like a tumor.

I had a bike, I just hadn't decided on a power plant for it.  I had pretty much decided no more China engines.  The amount of maintenance was just too much for me.   It seemed that at least a couple of times a week I was at the engine with a wrench or chain breaker.  I wanted to try something a bit easier to maintain.

The bike I built went behind the garage under a tarp.  It was out of sight but not out of mind. Every time I heard a strange noise on the china bike, I thought again about motorizing the bike that I had built.  Strange noises were routine with the china bike so I was constantly on the prowl for ideas for a propulsion unit for the new bike.

While I worried about the bike breaking down, I tried to think of a way to propel the new bike.  While all that was going through my mind, life slipped into a kind of routine.  It happened without me even realizing it.  I would awake somewhere between seven and eight AM.  I would shower and dress for the day before climbing on my bike and going to breakfast.  Breakfast had become my one, eat out, sit down meal.  I refused to eat take out for breakfast but most other meals came wrapped in paper.

After breakfast I would go home to work on my blog or I would get called out on a messenger run.  I delivered everything from lawyer's notices to hot dogs for the turkey plant workers.  On a given day I could be busy or not get a single call.  Both were satisfactory to me.

The messenger service was paying about half my bills which was fine with me.  Unfortunately I had become a tax payer which was not so fine with me.  Most of the real clients were writing me off as a business expense. I knew that it wouldn't be long before the government came around checking up on me.  To cut them off at the knees, I bought a business license and paid my taxes faithfully.  I might not have, if I had really needed the money, but since it was more hobby than occupation, I paid the bloodsuckers.

The power plant for the newish bike still bothered me but I let it slide into the cauldron of other unresolved issues of my life. I had a feeling that it wouldn't stay that way as long as some of the other already had.

Sunday came and went in a blur of boredom.  I was content to just spend it sitting on the bed reading a cheap yard sale novel.  I drank a lot of coffee from my new coffee makers, and a lot of iced tea made in the large jar of  water inside my solar cooker located on the balcony. The solar cooker was no more than a large folding circular fan made from overlapping panels constructed of roof flashing.  They unfold to make a circle.  Inside the circle I sit the gallon jug of water and tea bags.  It take about an hour to make tea strong enough to withstand the effects of lemon. sugar. and water.  

The fact that it takes an hour is a downside of course, but the fact that it never boils over is the upside.  The water doesn't quite reach boiling but it does get awfully close.  At least I think it does.  I can also use the cooker to heat cans of vegetables without using a pot.  I simple open them, then sit them in the center of the large reflecting bowl.  The solar cooker would not have been practical on the road, but it was eminently so on the all day sunshine of the balcony.

 The downtown diner where I usually ate was not open on Sundays so I ate inside a Mcdonalds.  It was a shocking experience to eat surrounded by young people and even family groups with children.  The noise level seemed almost deafening.  It interfered with my enjoyment of the burned animal flesh and bird embryos.

Lunch was a sandwich at home.  The fact that I could make a sandwich had most likely saved me the price of the rent on the one room above the garage.  For dinner, as I did most nights, I stopped for a frozen plate of prepared food from the grocery store.  I used the toaster oven to cook those.  The low cost of bike travel made a daily shopping trip a reasonable thing to do.  About the only food hanging around my place was sandwich making materials.  Of course there were always cookies.  I have to force myself to eat them in moderation or I would be a blimp.  Sugar had always been my addiction of choice.  Fortunately for most of my life it was unavailable to me.

My entertainment was in the form of cheap books and the internet.  Mostly on the internet I got my news and even watched the occasional TV show.  Most of the time I only watched the TV shows after I move to a location where I could download a the file from a wireless connection.  At home I had only the cell phone modem and it was a 56k dial up ISP.  It was good enough to read the news and work on my blog, but it wouldn't download any large files without stalling.

I would run around on ebay looking for bargains with the cell phone connection but I couldn't exactly fly through them.  My interest was peaked by all the electric scooter parts on ebay.  It seemed that many of the electric scooters failed, got stripped and the parts sold on ebay.  Made me wonder if some of the parts weren't hot.

The scooter parts led me to a search on google for homemade bicycle drives.  What I found was encouraging.  I knocked around the internet searching and researching all the ways bikes could be run.  Sunday finally passed and I found refuge in sleep from all the mind numbing information.

"You the bike guy?"  The question was asked by what seemed to be a young woman with a thick Spanish accent.

"I run the bike messenger service yes," I replied.

"I don't need no messenger service, I need a bike."  It was a simple flat statement.

"I don't sell bikes," I replied.  She wasn't the first to ask about buying a bike, just the first to be serious enough to track me down.  "Is the bike for you?"

"Yes I need it to get to work.  It's a long way from my house to where I work."

"How far is it?"

"Three miles, I walk it or ride my pedal bike everyday but I am wet from the sweat when I get to work.  I am very uncomfortable for the first two or three hours."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you.  You might look into a moped.  Sounds like that might be a good thing for you."

"I have looked.  I can not afford them. How much would it cost for you to build me a bicycle like yours?"

"You don't want a bike like mine.  There is way too much maintenance on them.  I'm sorry I have nothing that would help you."

That early Monday morning call got me to thinking.

After the call I went back to the net for some serious looking.  I hoped to at least find some information that would be usable to the less informed, me.  In other words enough information for the simplest conversion, and then the easiest possible maintenance.  The bike I rode wouldn't be much good for people who lived in apartments.  There was just too much maintenance required for it.

I had a pretty good idea what I could do, I just needed to try it out.  The motor bike kit I had used to build my bike ran about two hundred bucks.  I could put a simple electric drive together for just over fifty bucks.  It would indeed be simple with no bells and whistles.  But worst of all it did not include batteries.  Still the bike might work on the flat lands where I found myself.

At around ten AM the pharmacy needed a delivery made to a house just outside of town.  The delivery was in my eight dollar zone, so it wasn't too far out.  I rode the bike without the trailer.  No sense dragging that thing way out there.

The woman who met me seemed to be in pretty good shape for her age.  The house was half a million, which by area standards wasn't a huge deal, but it wasn't a room over the garage either.

"I wouldn't have had you do this, if the darn car would have started."

"I'm sorry to hear about your car."  I didn't feel too bad she could afford to have it towed to the shop.  As a matter of fact the car was already gone.

"Thank you,  That's a cute little delivery bike."

"Thanks, well I should be going."  

"Could I have one of your cards please.  I might need you to run errands for me now and then."  I handed her a card with a smile then I rode away.

I began looking for a fast food joint on th way back into town.  Since I was out near the highway, I knew there would be a burger in a bag joint somewhere nearby.  Over lunch I handed out another card and talked bikes a bit.  I had wasted enough time so that it was almost noon when I arrived back at the garage.

The old man was sitting on his porch so I decided the time was right to work on a deal to use the garage to build bikes.  I had a deal to work on my bike but to build bikes I needed a much better deal.  It was best to work that out before I actually was doing the work.

"Hello Gerald," I said as I climbed his front steps.

"Michael, what can I do for you this morning?"

"I was wondering if we could made a deal for me to rent the garage below me as well as the room where I live."

"We already have a deal," the old man with the crew cut replied cautiously.

"Yes but I was thinking about something that would allow me full time use of the garage.  I need to store some things.  He didn't seem to be fooled. 

"You already store that noisy smelly bike out there."

"Hey the bike isn't that smelly and I try to get away from your house before I start it up."

"I know and I do appreciate that, but it still is noisy."  I stopped to take a deep breath before I went on.

"So you want to rent me the place or do I go looking for a storage locker."

"Well half the garage is about the size of one of those U Store it things. those are about $75 a month.  I will rent you the back half of the garage for $100."

"You just got through saying the U Store would only be $75?"

"Yes but the garage is at worth at least $25 more for the convenience."  He smiled because he knew he had me there.  

"Make it the front half and you got a deal,"  I said it as I peeled off $40 for the rest of that month's rent on the garage.  It was a little more than it should have been, but I wasn't in the mood to quibble.  I would have paid a bit more.  Not a lot but a bit.  I mumbled, "Bloodsucker," just loud enough for him to hear me.  I knew that it would please him for me to feel that I had been bested.  It was a small thing to do for the old man.

For the rest of the afternoon, I read everything I could find on electric bikes.  While I read I heard the old man moving things below me.

The more I read, the more a battery powered bike seemed to be the way to go.  It looked as though a 350 watt 24 volt engine with brushes was my best bet.  I would build a real clunker pretty inexpensively.  There were a ton of fancy bikes around so there seemed to be no need for those.  What people around that place seemed to need was a low cost, low maintenance, and extremely stable motorized bicycle.  With the price of gasoline and grain spiking, and no letup in site, there was a demand for sure.  At least until wages caught up with the rise in gasoline prices there would be some demand for motorized bicycles.  At least it seemed so to me.

  I ordered the engine because I had become bored, not because I was some kind of humanitarian.  During the three days the engine was in shipment life went on as usual.  The difference was that I had something to occupy my mind. My first problem was attaching the friction drive wheel to the scooter motor I bought on ebay.

Yes I had decided to go with a friction wheel.  The reason was simple it was the easiest to build and the maintenance was no more than changing a tire a little more often.  I could change a tire easy enough, so could any competent bike shop.  I made a note to toss in a set of 2 buck tire levers and instructions on tire changing as well.

I took my bike and trailer to Walmart while waiting for the motor.  There I bought a cheap drill and saber saw with extra bits and blades.  I didn't think there was any need to buy mounting hardware till the motor arrived.  But the tools I could have on hand.  

Along with the power tools I bought two cheap wrench sets and a complete set of screwdrivers.  I had noted that some bikes had Allen heads so I picked up a complete set of those as well.  For the rough stuff I bought a complete set of vise grips. The ranged from mammoth to small, I bought them all.

Since I was going to be working with batteries and wires, I bought a couple of sets of wire pliers in different sizes and a complete crimp tool set complete with ends.  It wasn't cheap to get ready for the cheap motor and bike, but it was a one time expense.

My gasoline bike chugged back home dragging the heavy trailer.  That same afternoon I drove to the Lowes home improvement store in the next largest town.  I placed an order for lumber to build a work bench and various odds and ends just to have around.  It would not have been necessary to do that, if I had a truck or even a car, but with a bike I had been forced to think ahead.  I paid the twenty dollar delivery charge.  I then went home to wait and worry about all the money I had just spent.  Why I have no idea.  I could easily live on my retirement money, the tools and bikes had been paid with the money from the Reverend.

The Lumber arrived the next day.  Of course I was out on a delivery of my own, so they dumped everything in he drive.  For that I caught hell from the old man.  I didn't much care to be honest.  I did move everything inside the garage as quickly as possible.  I also stored it in my part of the garage not his.

I changed into my work rags then I built the work table.  I built it from a full sheet of 7/8 inc plywood as a top, and doubled 2x4s for the legs and rails.  I actually nailed a 2x4 rail to rear wall of the garage's open studs.  It made the work bench very secure and stable.  I built a couple of work small movable work benches as well.  I must have been living right because I had enough lumber with some left over.  I stored the left over pieces carefully as I knew they would come in handy later.

It took all afternoon to build everything and even a little after dark to finish up.  I was worn out but I had wanted to work till I was either finished, or until I got a deliver call.  Since there was no calls, I managed to work until it was finished.

The bike was ready, the shop was ready, and I was past ready to begin.  The USPS was not ready it seemed.  The three days in transit turned into five with the weekend tossed in.  Over that weekend I found a second 20" bike on the side of the road.  It was much easier to move.  I went home to pick up my wrench kit

When I returned I moved the bike to the parking lot of a closed business.  There I stripped it.  I removed both wheels, the crank set, and the one hand brake and lever.  I even tossed the rusty chain onto the trailer.

At home I removed and repacked the wheel bearings.  The bike's spokes seemed to be loose, so I took a cram course on adjusting spokes on the internet.  I used the front fork of the bike in progress to spin the wheels.  They needed tightening and truing.  I seriously doubted that they were even in the perfect neighborhood, but they were better.  

While I worked on the kid's bike I gave it some thought.  I had seen two kid's bike's on the side of the road in just a couple of weeks, but I never saw an adult bike.  I realized for the first time that most American adults thought of bicycles as toys.  In other parts of the world a bicycle might be a symbol of wealth.  Americans would have to rethink many things in the years to come, I expected.

I pumped up the tires before I added them to the one front wheel that I had left over from the first bike.  Since I had the weekend with nothing at all going on, I tested the new bike extensively.  I rode it around the neighborhood with no motor.  I found it to be nice and stable, until I added the twenty pounds to the frame.  Batteries probably would not be a full twenty pounds but they also might be.  If I wanted to build a cheep bike, the provision for cheap batteries was a must.

The bike became very unstable when I added the batteries.  It was either very top heavy making it difficult to control, or just plain heavy making hard to move around when not rolling.  Batteries on the bike seems to be a real problem.  One that might be insurmountable.  I went back to the internet.  

I found the answer on one of the bike forums.  One of the bike riders had built a trailer to carry groceries and his kids for ride alongs.  The trailer used his kids old bike wheels.  When I read it, the three bike wheels on my balcony came to mind.  I did a lot of reading about bike trailers over the next few hours.  I found that there were several designs but only one, the most basic, seemed right for me.

Once my mind shifted from batteries on the bike, to batteries in a trailer new options came available.  I wondered how easy it would be to tow a tailer and how much the weight would matter.  Since bicycle are not areo-dynamic in the least, I expected any added weight would effect performance minimally.  At least up to a point.  Twenty pounds to forty pounds might not make much difference at all.  It was something to test once the engine arrived.  I had pretty much decided that batteries on the bike for a seventy year old was not a feasible plan.

Since I had made that leap in my mind, the actual design of the trailer became important.  The outrigger wheel support seemed to be all the craze in third world countries, but I didn't like that idea at all.  The trailer would have to fit through an apartment door to meet my criteria. That meant a full axle trailer.  

I could come up with only two ways to manage that.  One would be to remove the axles from the wheels and have one end of each welded to a tube of the right length.  Doing that would spread the load over the whole tailer not concentrate it on one side of the axle.  The other would require no welding so it got my vote immediately.  All I had to do was to buy a threaded rod more or less the same diameter as the axle.  It would need to be the correct length but that wasn't a problem.  Since I could buy such a rod for less than three bucks, it became the method of choice.  I quickly made the design on the MS paint program.  I saved the file for later reference. 

After having worked on the Chinese engine bike the electric bike was a breeze. The engine mount was no more than a couple of shelf braces from the hardware store and the fender supports from one of the children's bikes. The wiring harness was a snap and made from a wall switch and an extension cord. Everything was made from common easy to find items. Any repair or replacement needed at a later date would be very simple.

The battery trailer itself was extremely easy to make. The 2 foot long 3/8 in rod wasn't very sturdy but after the wheels were on, I bolted it tightly to a 2"x2" board that filled the space between the wheels closely. the 2"x2" was a custom fit just a hair over 16 inches and it strengthened the axle greatly. The battery box was something else all together. I decided to pick up the batteries first then make the bed of the trailer fit.

On day two of the build, I went looking for batteries. I knew I needed 2 good, cheap 12 volt batteries. What I bought were two lawn and garden tractor batteries brand new. I also bought a cheap auto battery charger. The batteries and the charger came to just over 60 bucks. If it had been for me, I would have found an auto junk yard and bought a couple of used batteries from junkers.

I rode the China Girl bike, with my utility trailer behind, to the home improvement store. I bought a 1"x10" 8' long and a 1"x12" 4' long. I had the store cut them into pieces the correct length and chop the left overs as well. Two small hinges, a tube of liquid nail, a bag of wood screws, a precut 2' by 2' 3/4" piece of plywood and a box of finish nails ended my purchases. The lumber was heavy in the trailer so I went slowly on the trip home.

I used the precut lumber to assemble the battery box. I nailed and glued the pieces together using the trailer frame as a base. The battery box was not going to be easy to remove but there should be no need to do so. When It was all finished I took a look at my handy work.

I realized that I forgotten about a trailer tongue. Back to the home improvement store, to purchase a piece of steel electrical pipe conduit. I had the store cut it for me into the length I measured between the bike and trailer. I also had them cut the scrap into pieces the same size. I also bought another heavy duty shelf brace, and a mending strip.

When I got home, I flattened both ends of one piece of the conduit. I drilled two hole in one end to use for the 1/4 bolt I had bought before the build began. I had always planned to assemble most everything with them. Before I bolted the shelf brace on the other end of the trailer tongue, I enlarged one of the 1/4 inch holes to fit the bike axle. Then I bolted the shelf brace onto the end of the tongue. The flat bar mending strip got added on an angle to add strength to the tongue end. It was not nearly as pretty as a good welder would have done, but it was good enough for a prototype.

I had gotten lucky on the bike frame. It needed very little paint touch up. From working on my China Girl bike I knew that painting with a spray can was neither clean not especially desirable. I had to paint to cover the wood of the trailer, but I sure didn't want to paint the bike frame. Auto touch up paint worked for the couple of scratches on the bike. A throw away paint brush and a cheap can of enamel paint colored it red to match the bike. I did spray paint the bike's wheels with an aluminum spray paint.

Since the batteries were heavy as hell they were the last thing added. With them in place and the bikes wiring attached to the battery pack with alligator clips, I was ready to test the bike. I was assured by the auto parts store that the batteries had a full charge, so I didn't worry about rigging a battery charger circuit for the test run.

The granny bike, as I began to think of it, did pretty well in it's first test.  The test got cut short by a business call.  I didn't dare take an untested bike out on a delivery, so I rode it home.  With the Chinese bike under me, I headed off to the pharmacy.  The pharmacist and I had worked out an uneasy peace.  I thought she was a bit over bearing but I'm sure she felt the same about me.  We had somehow developed an understanding, if not admiration, of each other.  I was sure I would be paid no matter what the situation, and she was sure her drugs would get to the right person.  It was a good working relationship.

"So Mike, what are you working on now?"  It was the closest she had ever come to a personal comment.

"Oh I'm trying to develop a cheap mechanized bicycle for older people.  You know people like me."

"Funny, I never thought of you as older," she suggested.

"Then again you never think of me at all,"  I laughed at the obvious addition to make it a slap down.

"Now, I did not say that."

"But it is true," I smiled knowing I had shaken her.

"Mr. Thomas let his prescription run out.  His doctor called to order it.  Since he was at the Doctor's office when he placed the order, Mr Thomas might not be  home yet,"

"So what do I do while he is out.  You surely don't expect me to wait while he goes out to breakfast do you?"  We were back to butting heads again it seemed.

"Let me call to see if he is home."  She said it grudgingly.  The pharmacy took that doctor patient thing too far, I thought.  There was no privilege but still everything was super secret around the drugstore.  After the call to his home she called the doctor's office.  Thomas had left the doctor's office almost an hour earlier.

"Mike, it isn't far would you go out and check on him?  If he doesn't answer the door, just see if his car is in the drive.  If it is call the police."

"No way, I'll go out and try to deliver this.  If his car is there but he doesn't answer the phone, I'll call you and you can call the police."

"Oh alright, you are the most stubborn man I have ever met," she snapped.

"And you push way to hard to get your way."  I smiled and when I did the anger drained from her face.

"Okay we are both difficult," she smiled what might have been her warmest smile to date.

The ride out to Thomas's house should have been uneventful but of course it wasn't.  The motorbike's chain jumped off the rear sprocket.  It had been pretty loose since I hadn't checked it recently.  The chain had a habit of pulling the wheel forward in the bikes frame.  When the wheel shifted far enough the chain came off.  There was no sense replacing the chain unless I also moved the wheel.  Making the repair on the side of the road was no fun, but it did give Thomas more time to return home, I thought.  It took about fifteen minutes just because the bike was ornery as usual.

When I finally arrived at the Thomas place, the first thing I noticed was that his car was in the drive.  I parked the bike behind it as a matter of fact.  Then I walked to his front door and rang the bell.  I waited a bit, then knocked very hard on the door.  I waited then knocked again.

In spite of myself I walked around to the back looking in the windows as I went.  What I saw through the fancy den bay window made my blood run cold.  Thomas was hanging from the exposed beam.  His neck looked far longer than it should have.  There was no doubt in my mind that Thomas was dead.

I returned to my bike to make the call.  I'm sorry but dead bodies before lunch make me nervous.  I have seen hundred of them and they always make me nervous.  It's one of natures most basic survival instincts I think.  Whatever killed that person might still be around and a threat.  In this case the threat had died with Thomas.  It seemed that my primitive brain didn't understand suicide.  

The granny bike, as I began to think of it, did pretty well in it's first test.  The test got cut short by a business call.  I didn't dare take an untested bike out on a delivery, so I rode it home.  With the Chinese bike under me, I headed off to the pharmacy.  The pharmacist and I had worked out an uneasy peace.  I thought she was a bit over bearing but I'm sure she felt the same about me.  We had somehow developed an understanding, if not admiration, of each other.  I was sure I would be paid no matter what the situation, and she was sure her drugs would get to the right person.  It was a good working relationship.

"So Mike, what are you working on now?"  It was the closest she had ever come to a personal comment.

"Oh I'm trying to develop a cheap mechanized bicycle for older people.  You know people like me."

"Funny, I never thought of you as older," she suggested.

"Then again you never think of me at all,"  I laughed at the obvious addition to make it a slap down.

"Now, I did not say that."

"But it is true," I smiled knowing I had shaken her.

"Mr. Thomas let his prescription run out.  His doctor called to order it.  Since he was at the Doctor's office when he placed the order, Mr Thomas might not be  home yet,"

"So what do I do while he is out.  You surely don't expect me to wait while he goes out to breakfast do you?"  We were back to butting heads again it seemed.

"Let me call to see if he is home."  She said it grudgingly.  The pharmacy took that doctor patient thing too far, I thought.  There was no privilege but still everything was super secret around the drugstore.  After the call to his home she called the doctor's office.  Thomas had left the doctor's office almost an hour earlier.

"Mike, it isn't far would you go out and check on him?  If he doesn't answer the door, just see if his car is in the drive.  If it is call the police."

"No way, I'll go out and try to deliver this.  If his car is there but he doesn't answer the phone, I'll call you and you can call the police."

"Oh alright, you are the most stubborn man I have ever met," she snapped.

"And you push way to hard to get your way."  I smiled and when I did the anger drained from her face.

"Okay we are both difficult," she smiled what might have been her warmest smile to date.

The ride out to Thomas's house should have been uneventful but of course it wasn't.  The motorbike's chain jumped off the rear sprocket.  It had been pretty loose since I hadn't checked it recently.  The chain had a habit of pulling the wheel forward in the bikes frame.  When the wheel shifted far enough the chain came off.  There was no sense replacing the chain unless I also moved the wheel.  Making the repair on the side of the road was no fun, but it did give Thomas more time to return home, I thought.  It took about fifteen minutes just because the bike was ornery as usual.

When I finally arrived at the Thomas place, the first thing I noticed was that his car was in the drive.  I parked the bike behind it as a matter of fact.  Then I walked to his front door and rang the bell.  I waited a bit, then knocked very hard on the door.  I waited then knocked again.

In spite of myself I walked around to the back looking in the windows as I went.  What I saw through the fancy den bay window made my blood run cold.  Thomas was hanging from the exposed beam.  His neck looked far longer than it should have.  There was no doubt in my mind that Thomas was dead.

I returned to my bike to make the call.  I'm sorry but dead bodies before lunch make me nervous.  I have seen hundred of them and they always make me nervous.  It's one of natures most basic survival instincts I think.  Whatever killed that person might still be around and a threat.  In this case the threat had died with Thomas.  It seemed that my primitive brain didn't understand suicide.  

The granny bike, as I began to think of it, did pretty well in it's first test.  The test got cut short by a business call.  I didn't dare take an untested bike out on a delivery, so I rode it home.  With the Chinese bike under me, I headed off to the pharmacy.  The pharmacist and I had worked out an uneasy peace.  I thought she was a bit over bearing but I'm sure she felt the same about me.  We had somehow developed an understanding, if not admiration, of each other.  I was sure I would be paid no matter what the situation, and she was sure her drugs would get to the right person.  It was a good working relationship.

"So Mike, what are you working on now?"  It was the closest she had ever come to a personal comment.

"Oh I'm trying to develop a cheap mechanized bicycle for older people.  You know people like me."

"Funny, I never thought of you as older," she suggested.

"Then again you never think of me at all,"  I laughed at the obvious addition to make it a slap down.

"Now, I did not say that."

"But it is true," I smiled knowing I had shaken her.

"Mr. Thomas let his prescription run out.  His doctor called to order it.  Since he was at the Doctor's office when he placed the order, Mr Thomas might not be  home yet,"

"So what do I do while he is out.  You surely don't expect me to wait while he goes out to breakfast do you?"  We were back to butting heads again it seemed.

"Let me call to see if he is home."  She said it grudgingly.  The pharmacy took that doctor patient thing too far, I thought.  There was no privilege but still everything was super secret around the drugstore.  After the call to his home she called the doctor's office.  Thomas had left the doctor's office almost an hour earlier.

"Mike, it isn't far would you go out and check on him?  If he doesn't answer the door, just see if his car is in the drive.  If it is call the police."

"No way, I'll go out and try to deliver this.  If his car is there but he doesn't answer the phone, I'll call you and you can call the police."

"Oh alright, you are the most stubborn man I have ever met," she snapped.

"And you push way to hard to get your way."  I smiled and when I did the anger drained from her face.

"Okay we are both difficult," she smiled what might have been her warmest smile to date.

The ride out to Thomas's house should have been uneventful but of course it wasn't.  The motorbike's chain jumped off the rear sprocket.  It had been pretty loose since I hadn't checked it recently.  The chain had a habit of pulling the wheel forward in the bikes frame.  When the wheel shifted far enough the chain came off.  There was no sense replacing the chain unless I also moved the wheel.  Making the repair on the side of the road was no fun, but it did give Thomas more time to return home, I thought.  It took about fifteen minutes just because the bike was ornery as usual.

When I finally arrived at the Thomas place, the first thing I noticed was that his car was in the drive.  I parked the bike behind it as a matter of fact.  Then I walked to his front door and rang the bell.  I waited a bit, then knocked very hard on the door.  I waited then knocked again.

In spite of myself I walked around to the back looking in the windows as I went.  What I saw through the fancy den bay window made my blood run cold.  Thomas was hanging from the exposed beam.  His neck looked far longer than it should have.  There was no doubt in my mind that Thomas was dead.

I returned to my bike to make the call.  I'm sorry but dead bodies before lunch make me nervous.  I have seen hundred of them and they always make me nervous.  It's one of nature's most basic survival instincts I think.  Whatever killed that person might still be around and a threat.  In that case the threat had died with Thomas.  It seemed that my primitive brain didn't understand suicide.  

"It seems your checkup didn't go all that well Mr Thomas,"  I said it out loud even though no one heard me.

The police arrived.  The town had about a dozen policemen spread over four shifts.  So there should have been three on duty for the whole town.  Since five showed up, one had to wonder who was minding the store.  There was one patrolman at first.  He went around back to confirm that I was not a nut, I suppose.  I stayed in front sitting on my bike.  Since there was no question that Mr Thomas was beyond help, there was no sound of breaking glass.  

The patrolman came back around the house with is microphone on a rope glued to his lips.  He was excitedly calling it in.  I waited patiently while he made his report to the station.  I was sure he would be calling in his crime scene team whatever that consisted of in a small town.  

I was still shaken and wanted to get away from the place. "You about through with me?"  I asked it when he put the microphone on a rope back on his shoulder patch of velcro.

"I need you to stay and talk to the chief," he suggested.

"Is he on his way now?"

"I put in the call, he should be here in a few minutes."

While I waited for the chief, I got to see the crack Port Saint Louise police department in action.  First the two patrol officers showed up.  My guess was that it would turn into a traffic ticket holiday.  Everyone was going to spend the day at the crime scene or at least a large part of the day.  There were going to be some testy cops, since they were most likely going to miss their lunch.  A hungry cop is a irritable cop, at least that was my thinking.

I told my story at least five times two three people.  I think they were hoping I would find more detail if I told it enough times.  There just wasn't anymore to say.  Finally the chief showed up and I told him my short story.  Since he being the last of them, I got cut loose.

My first stop was the drug store.  I needed to return he drugs.  I wasn't really thinking of anything else.

"Are you okay," the pharmacist asked.

"I'm just fine," I replied.

"I'm so sorry that I sent you out there.  If I had any idea, I would not have done that."

"Like you said, you had no idea.  Besides someone had to find him.  Better me today than someone a week from now."

"What a terrible thought.  He lived alone so I suppose it could have played out that way," she added.

"Does he have any family?"

"No he lives alone."

"Well someone drove him to the Doctor.  I wonder who it was."

"How do you know someone drove him?"

"While I waited for the cops, I checked the engine of his car and it was cold.  There was no puddle under the car for the air conditioner condensation.  His car hadn't been driven this morning.  Someone drove him to the Doctor, I wonder who if he has no family."

She looked thoughtful for a moment then asked, "Mike, have you had lunch yet?"

"No why?"  I replied cautiously.  

"Come on, I'll take you lunch in exchange for the delivery fee you won't be getting."

And that's how I came to have my first lunch with Andrea Garcia.  In spite of the name Andrea was not of Spanish decent.  Her step father, a Cuban American, had adopted her at the age of ten.  Andrea was bilingual which was a good thing to be in South Florida at the time.

Lucy introduced me to Cuban food as well as giving me a cultural lesson.  I had no idea what I was eating since she ordered for me, but it was delicious.  It was way more spicy than I had ever seen any woman eat previously.  The restaurant was the equivalent of a Cuban Mcdonalds I suppose.  It didn't matter the food was good and Andrea was a nice looking middle aged woman.  Any woman fifteen years younger than me was attractive in some sense.  Andrea without the lab coat was attractive in every sense.

I hated for the lunch to end, but she had to return to the pharmacy and I had the senior bike to test.

I had the granny bike to think about, but Mr Thomas stayed on my mind as well.  I wondered who had been with Thomas just before he canceled his own ticket.  I wondered exactly what it was that pushed him down the stairs.  Whatever it was the fall proved too be to much for him.  I guess it bothered me because every man or woman has their limits.  Hanging was a sure sign that he was serious about ending it.  It was simple morbid curiosity on my part.

I was still shaken when I took the granny bike out for a spin.  The topography around town, to put it simply was pancake flat.  That being the case the bike just sang along.  I had made my own drive wheel which was a full half inch larger in diameter than was recommended.  Since the 300 watt electric engine came with a threaded drive shaft and a nut used to hold the sprocket in place, the construction of the drive wheel had been a no brainer.  I removed the nut took it to the home depot in the larger town next door.  I matched it up with a bolt and three more nuts like it.  Then I had added a bunch of flat washers and lock washers for good measure.   At the same time I purchased a 1 1/2 inch castor with hard plastic wheel.  I went straight from the Home Depot to a welding shop.  I paid way too much to have three bolts welded together but it was the only outside work I had done.  When I arrived home,  I put it all together to make the drive wheel.

The drive wheel had already been constructed and the bike had it's prelim test before I found Mr. Thomas.  The serious test began after my lunch with Andrea.  I quickly decided that the simple on off switch would not work for a granny.  It was find for me, but without the ability to ease in the motors rpms it had a tendency to give the illusion of way to much acceleration.  It was a single motor dragging 40 lbs of batteries so it wasn't going to fly off but it seemed as though it would.  That could be pretty scary.  It looked as though a throttle of some kind was going to be a necessity.  That was the first thing I noticed, that was just before I made a sharp right turn.  

Just for reference that is not a good move at any speed with a trailer.  Especially one that proved to be top heavy.  Yes it twisted the hitch and fell over.  It also threw the batteries on the concrete.  Fortunately batteries are made to take a beating.  

Since one beating might be all they were made to take, I began to rethink the trailer idea, not the concept but the construction.  I came to the conclusion that the problem was in the wheels.  The bike trailer needed smaller wheels to make it less top heavy.  As I de constructed the trailer I also realized that the trailer's axle was small to handle the weight of the batteries.  What I needed to build was not so much a general purpose bike trailer but a task specific trailer.

I decided that for wheels, it would be lawn mower wheels.  I expected to find abandoned lawn mowers about as often as I had found abandoned bikes.  Since I didn't want to wait, I rode the China bike to a lawn mower repair shop.  The old man who sat in the office was the manager/owner, but he no longer did the actual work.  He was the one who made the decisions.  

He agreed to sell me two of this largest lawn mower wheels for 7 bucks.  I took the deal since I wanted to get on with the bike building.  The diameter of the axle opening was 1/2 inch so it was easy just to buy some long 1/2 inch bolts.  I designed and built that trailer myself.  I had no idea what I was building, it just seemed to be a reasonable way to build a trailer.  

Strength vs weight was always a consideration in anything going on a bike.  I used a 3/8 inch piece of plywood for the bed of the trailer.  I had some left over 1x2s that I used for the side rails.  I enter locked the sides and ends for strength.  I also used wood glue as well as ringed nails to hold the pieces together.  I drilled two 1/2 hole in the side rails with a spade bit.  One on each side in approximately matching spots.  I greases the bolts then ran them through the nylon bushings of the wheels.  Locked them down inside the frame with two bolts on each side then used a pipe clamp to secure the nuts to the trailer bed.

I built a battery box from scraps so that the batteries could be removed from the trailer.  The trailer could be left with the bike or removed depending on the storage situation of the owner.  Without the throttle and controller the bike was a wild ride but at least as much fun as the gasoline bike.  The range and speed would be substantially less I feared.   The bike was ready for another test run but I was exhausted so I fell into bed without testing it.

While I slept the auto battery charger did it's work.  I had figured out how to charge both 12 volt batteries at the same time.  I also had a timer on the charger's circuit, so that it ran for one hour at a time.  I set it for one more hour before i drifted off to sleep.

I rode the China Girl bike to the downtown diner for breakfast.  As I had expected Mr. Thomas was the story of the day.  Since it was a small town everyone seemed to know that I had found his body.  

"It was so awful about Mr. Thomas, but you knew he had cancer?"  It was the waitress who asked it.

"No I didn't know that.  I was delivering his drugs, but I had no idea they were for cancer treatments.  I just had an address and name."

"Yes everyone thought it was in remission, but I guess not."  That statement came from a man my age.  He didn't care that he was eavesdropping.  I didn't either.

"I was wondering who drove him to the doctor."  I said it matter of factly to everyone within earshot.  "I think someone said that he didn't have any family."

"He had a married daughter.  I expect what they meant was that he didn't have anyone here.  He and the daughter weren't on very good terms."  That came from yet another customer.

"I thought he was driving these days," the same younger man suggested.

"I don't think he drove yesterday."  I said that pretty secure in the knowledge that he hadn't.

"If he didn't drive, it might have been Miss Simon."

"Who is Miss Simon a lady friend?"  I asked it smiling inside at the thought of it.

"Not likely, she lives next door to Edwards.  Well not next door but in the same neighborhood." 

"Ah well that is possible.  I sure would like to know."  I suggested.

"Why would you want to know that?" It was the waitress.

"I'd just like to know what kind of mood the old man was in."

"Obviously he was depressed," the waitress suggested.

"That would be my guess as well, I would just like to know.  I am sort of involved in it you know."

"Not really, you were just the delivery boy," a younger man suggested with a smirk.

I thought about my reply for sometime before I answered. "That is true, I was the delivery man.  I haven't been a boy, since 1970 but I do deliver things.  My job doesn't make me stupid, any more than working in a bank makes you rich."

I could see that he was offended, but I could also see he didn't want to take it any further.

The waitress brought my food which diffused the situation even more.  I had the sausage and eggs without any more discussion.  I did split my attention between the excellent food and the bank employee.  A cornered yuppie can be a dangerous animal.

After breakfast I returned to the senior bike.  I wanted to range test it, so I laid out a two mile coarse with a one mile marker along the way.  The pleasant surprise was that the bike moved well even under pedal power.  When the engine kicked in it seem to almost zoom along.  Once the speed was up I could kill the engine to get the extra push of the heavy trailer's momentum.  It was a pretty good little system for me.  I had no idea how someone else would react to it.

I had my two mile course laid out, so off I went.  With the land being so flat, all the 300 watt motor had to do was to pull me and the batteries around on flat ground.  I expected it to do pretty well.  I figured the batteries at about twenty amp hours.  The motor pulled 15 amps so I should have about an hour of full load pull.  Since I did not have a controller it pulled full load all the time.  At 8 miles an hour I should have about an eight mile range.  It sounded good on paper but I had no idea how it would actually work out.

The batteries got weak but not dead at eight miles.  I had hoped for more, but it was a good start.  With a little luck the controller would make a big difference I thought at the time.  Since I didn't have a controller to try, I decided to just ride the bike as it was till I found one.  

I had a much larger advertising space on the rear of the electric bike since the rear was a trailer.  I put a permanent sandwich board sign on it.  A big chunk was for the messenger/delivery service and smaller bits for bike sales.  Yes I had decided that the senior electro was ready for sell even before I tried the controller.  I had the cheapest possible battery pack there were others that would do much better.  I planned to pitch it as an exercise machine that was fun not drudgery.

It took all morning to get the ebike tested and the signs printed.  I rode the China bike to the print shop to have them made from files on a floppy disk.  I had become quite the sign designer with the help of the computer.  It was about 2pm when I took the electric bike out for a spin.  I did very little pedalling since the land was flat and I just wanted to run it around town.  

I got a lot of looks but not nearly as many as the China bike.  The bike didn't have the same eye appeal nor did it have the noise of the gasoline engine.  That noise attracted attention, some good some bad, but it got noticed.  The whisper quiet Ebike was a real change, but I liked it. I knew that Wallymart sold a bike for $200, my goal was to sell a stripped down conversion of the customer's bike for $100 plus the cost of the batteries.  The customer would choose the batteries.  The motors were available on ebay for about $30 all day long.  The friction wheel was no more than a small welding job, a bolt and some pvc pipe joints.  Under two bucks except for the welding.  Since my last welding job, I had found a guy who would make me the joint for the wheel cheaper.  He had made me ten of them for twenty bucks.  They resided happily in my utility trailer, along with a hundred feet of white lamp chord from the home depot.   The $125 included the custom trailer for the batteries.

My bike with all the senior friendly features could be produced for pretty much free, but I had to charge $50 for the time.  For the same $200 a senior could get a custom bike, more senior friendly, with features designed just for them.  I thought it was a good pitch but only time would tell.  If I never sold one at all, I would be just as happy.  I really did it just to see if I could.  

After lunch of a sandwich made with luncheon meat from the grocery store, and lots of mustard to disguise the taste, I decided to go see this Miss Simon.  The one who might have been with Mr. Thomas the day of his death.  If nothing else, she might know who was with him.  His death still bothered me on some personal level.

An automobile battery charger hummed away on the Ebike's battery pack, so I fired up the China bike and off I went.  I had gotten Miss Simon's address from the telephone directory.  I didn't need to punch it into the gps system.  I knew just where she lived in relation to Mr. Thomas.  His location would forever be burned into my brain.

Her's was a small white frame house.  It most likely was two bedrooms with an indoor outdoor room on the rear in place of a third bedroom.  Those kinds of houses were all the rage in the forties when it was built.  It had, no doubt, survived a lot of hurricane repairs without changing its basic design.

"Yes?" The woman only a couple of years older than me asked.

"Good morning, my name is Michael Burke.  I am the one who found your neighbor Mr. Thomas yesterday."  She simply nodded.   "I was wondering if you knew who drove him to his doctor's appointment?"

"Why?"  It seemed that Miss Simon was a woman of few words.  She was also a small woman with lots of small wrinkles and almost blue hair.  It wasn't quite the easter egg blue of my late mother's hair, but it was silver with a hint of blue.

"I was curious to know how he behaved that morning."  I suppose I had a caring look on my face because she finally responded with more than a single word.

"He told me that his daughter was coming to drive him.  I asked because I hadn't seen him out in his yard for a few days.  He loved to work in  his yard.  When I didn't see him out, I went down to ask if he was feeling alright.  He said he wasn't feeling too well and that he had an appointment with his doctor.  I asked if he needed a ride, but he told me his daughter was coming up to take care of him."

"I thought the two of them didn't get along."  Yes it was a rumor but I made it sound as if I knew it for a fact.

"They didn't.  I was as surprised as you when he told me.  He called her when he was first diagnosed and she didn't even come to see him.  He fought that cancer all by himself.  I was broken hearted for him."

"I'm sure you and his other friends rallied around."  I tried to make it sound as comforting as possible she seemed to be in some pain.  I guess being his age made her conscious of her own vulnerability.  Maybe that was part of my empathy with Mr Thomas.

When I left Miss Simon's house I noted the second car in the drive of the house where I found Thomas hanging like giant country ham.  I jumped to the conclusion that it was his daughter, but I decided to be sure.  I pulled the bike into the drive behind the two cars.  I gave the house a quick threat assessment as I turned off the bike.

If it was the brat and her husband it might turn into a war of words, hardly anything to worry about.  If it was a burglary in progress, it might well turn into a battle.  Now that could be very unpleasant since I might be the one with a knife at a gunfight.  Still I was curious.  The Thomas thing had really bothered me.  I was in the wrong part of the world to find bodies laying about.

I knocked on the door.  The woman who came was probably in her late thirties at the very least.  She was a bottle blonde trying to look sixteen.  It wasn't just the fake blonde hair, it was the tight jeans and the top that left her belly exposed.  I had a hard time believing it was a grieving child, so I prepared myself for the worst.  It didn't help that she looked angry and combative.

"Excuse me miss, could I ask who you might be?"

"Why, who are you?"

"I'm the man who knows for a fact that there isn't supposed to be anyone in this house.  The man who lived here alone, passed away yesterday."  I said looking hard at her.  I had emphasized that Thomas lived alone.  Even if it was the kid I wanted to get a dig in at her.

"Well, who we are is none of your damn business."  That came in a male voice from someone out of sight.

I pulled out my cell phone.  I was ready to punch in the three digits to connect me with the police, when the woman spoke.  "Who are you calling."

"As a good citizen I'm calling the police.  As far as I can tell you are buglers."  I had turned sideways to protect my vital organs, at least a little, if it became any kind of fight.  With the storm door between us it looked as though the move would serve simply to make me a somewhat smaller target should it be a gun battle.

"Wait, there is no sense getting the cops involved in this.  I'm Gloria Thomas.  Well now I'm married so it's Gloria Reed."

"I see,"  I suppose she could have showed up to take care of her father's funeral arrangement's, but I had an estranged daughter.  If she had to do it, she would do it by phone from home.  I had a feeling Gloria and her husband were checking the place for cash.  From the looks of her, she could be checking if for good dope as well.  That was unfair, she just looked like some almost middle-aged woman still trapped in her twenties.

Since I obviously wasn't quite sure about her, she went on with her explanation.  "The chief of police called me at home yesterday.  My husband and I came in last night.  We plan to stay a few days and clean up any loose ends."  She smiled.  It would have been more effective if she had answered the door with a smile.  

"When was the last time you saw your father?" I asked.

"Yesterday, I drove him to the doctor's office."  I saw her husband walk up behind her.  He was a big man, not tall and muscular but rather 50 pounds over weight at least.  Not the weight lifter gone to seed over weight, but the soft sofa over weight kind of guy.

"I found your father's body," I replied simply.

"So what?" the husband asked.

"So I'm curious.  I want a few questions answered.  See I'm involved in this like it or not."

"Well get your ass uninvolved,"

"Or what tubby?"  I asked it stepping back from the door.  If the man came running out, I didn't want the door flying in my face.

"Or I will see to it that you do," he suggested angrily.  He seemed to have taken offense at the tubby.   Now if you are likely to get in a fight with a large stranger it is to your advantage for him not to be acting rationally.   People who are enraged, rush in like bulls.  Where as a thoughtful man might pick up a lamp and brain you with it.  As I had expected the tubby remark pissed him off.

Even Florida houses, built mostly on slabs, sit a little higher than the ground around them.  I suppose they do that to keep the normal monsoon rains from running under the door.  In my case that morning It meant that I was standing on about an eight inch high stoop.  When tubby hubby came rushing out the door.  I stepped to the side and down.  I waited long enough so that he couldn't adjust to the quick move.  

His momentum carried him past me and into the yard.  He obviously forgot about the eight in drop.  He was stumbling around when I gave him a hard blow to the kidney.  With just a little luck he would be pissing blood for a day or two.  I never cared much for people who disrespected the dead.

Now my balance was terrible even in those days, I sure as hell didn't want to fight.  It seemed that Mr. Reed had enough fat so that the blow wasn't nearly as effective as it might have been.  He was on all fours and trying to stand when I said, "Lay back down Reed and I want hurt you any more."

"Fuck you," he said trying to drag his overweight body up.  I almost hated to do it, almost.  I kicked him in the belly.  I could have kicked him in the head just as easily, but that would look really bad to the cops where were bound to show up.  I didn't want him all beat up, or spitting up blood, I just wanted him hurting.  A nice sharp kick to the abdomen hardly shows at all, but it can definitely ruin your day.  A good serious bruise to the diaphragm hurts with every breath you take, and it does it for days.  It's the gift that keeps on giving.  Of course the first few breaths after the blow are almost impossible to manage without help.

"You want to roll over on your back Reed.  Now just relax and think happy thoughts.  Take deep breaths, and repeat ten times, I will never fuck with old men.  You do know that when the cops come, and they will, you are going to look pretty damn foolish.  I'm at least twenty years older than you."  Twenty or more but he was in no condition to correct me.

I turned my attention to Gloria.  Now what happened at the doctor's office and what kind of mood was your dad in on the way home."  Gloria didn't look like she wanted to answer.  "You know I can tap dance on his head."  I said that turning back to her husband.

"His cancer was back.  He was depressed of course."

"He had fought it before why was he more depressed this time?"

"He was getting pretty weak and thought he might have to go into a nursing home.  The thought depressed him."

In a flash I saw it.  How it probably was.  He said that and Gloria the brat saw all her inheritance going down the drain.  He was depressed and at best she did nothing to help. at worst she fed on it.  She could have helped drive him to it.  I wouldn't put anything past her and her tubby hubby.

"So what did you think about it all."

"What do you think, I was upset myself."

"Yeah, I bet."

It was about that time that the black and white patrol car pulled into the drive.

I spent about a half hour explaining it all to the small town cop.  He laughed his butt off when the two of them told how this gray haired old man kicked the crap out of tubby hubby.  I just smiled like a man hearing the biggest BS story of all time.  

"If you really want to file a complaint, head on down to the magistrate's office and draw a warrant.  Personally, I would hate to go into court and admit a man as old as Mr. Burke kicked my butt, if he really did."  The office's attitude should have warned them how foolish it all sounded.

"You know Mr. Burke found your dad, I can't see him driving back here to just to kick the crap out of a stranger.  It just don't make much sense to me.  I have a feeling the DA is gonna' feel the same, but it is your right to go down and draw a warrant.  You do that and I will arrest Mr. Burke."

"If we are going to draw warrants, I suppose I could draw one as well?"  It was a question asked just for show.  "After all he did rush out the door to attack me.  That is when he tripped and fell.  Is it assault in Florida for a man to threaten and then attempt to make good on the threat?"

"It sure is.  It's simple assault, even if he was the one who lost."  The cops smiled at me.

"Just get the hell off our property," Gloria Reed demanded.

"Officer, I'm curious is it her property before the will is read?"

"Good point, do you have a copy of the will?"  He asked that of Gloria, he made a point to ignore tubby hubby.

"I'm my dad's only relative of course it's my house now."

"That is for the court to decide.  Since you can't produce a will, I suggest you leave everything where it is until you find one.  I wouldn't be loading my car up with things just yet."   We both knew what their plan was.  It would be hard to stop them, but the threat might work.

Just as soon as the cop had confirmed that the Reed family wouldn't be needing protection from the old man on the bike, we both left.  I was on the bike when he walked by me.  "Meet me at the Burger shack down the street," he demanded.

I wasn't at all upset or intimidated, I was simply curious.  The ride only took me a couple of minutes.  I saw the officer sitting in the shade of a large tree of some kind.  I only knew that it wasn't a palm tree.

"So, you really did kick his fat ass didn't you?"  The cop asked it with a wide smile.

"Why no, I have no idea where that nonsense came from.  He tried to assault me, and he tripped in his hurry to get to me.  I was just standing in the yard when you drove up.  I was shocked by his attack and by seeing you."

"I wonder why the neighbor called it in as a white haired old guy kicking the crap out of a fat man on the lawn in front of Mr Thomas's house?"

"Beats the hell out of me.  You know how us old folks are.  Our eyesight isn't all that good, and we get confused easy."

"Sure," he replied a little concerned.  "Why the interest in Mr. Thomas?"

"Well I don't have any reason to doubt that he hung himself, but I sure would like to know if that kid of his made the noose."

"Of course she did, that's what kids do."  He looked at me then added, "You don't have children do you."

"I have a step daughter," I replied. "And yeah she would hand me a rope in a minute."

"Well this might not be exactly the same thing, but you are on the right track there."

"Yeah, that's what I kinda' figured.  I suppose I just wanted to know that he had a good reason.  Not just she pushed him to save her inheritance."

"We checked, his cancer came back.  It looked pretty grim for him to be honest.  Would you want to spend your last days crapping in your bed and having to lay in it."  He took a good look at me then added, "Don't answer, we both know."

Some mysteries just stay mysteries, such was the case of Mr thomas's suicide.  He probably did the right thing but I still wondered if Gloria Thomas Reed, hadn't given him a nudge.  In the end Thomas was better off, so I suppose that it didn't matter.  Even if I could find out and prove it, what would be the use.  The insurance company might refuse payment, if he had a policy, but she would most likely get everything else.  Most likely a jury would never convict her of anything.  To be honest I doubted that any prosecutor would bother taking her to trial.

The whole episode got put to rest while I went back to work on promoting the senior bike.  I rode my senior ebike twice a day.  I rode it across town to breakfast.  I parked it around the corner from the diners so that more people would see it, and the sign on the rear.  In the late afternoon, if I wasn't busy with anything else, I rode it to the park, or to one of the shopping centers.  The four miles out and four miles back rule put most all of the town's shopping area's in range.

The offer I got was to sell the bike I rode.  The man who bought it was my age.  Since I had decided to build them more as a public service, and to keep me from going mad with boredom, I made about 50 bucks on the bike.  I sold it to the old man as excercise.  He paid me a $150 for bike minus the trailer and batteries.  The price was fair, I thought.  The buyer chose to buy a set of SLA batteries for the bike.  I added a cheap luggage rack for an additional $35.  His battery pack got bundee corded to the carrier.  I thought it made the bike top heavy but he was satified.

I began collecting parts for a new bike immediately.  I knew just what to strip off junkers by that time, so I carried my full tool kit in the trailer.  I rode the streets of town on both of the trash pick up days looking for bike parts.  

My days were filled with a couple of deliveries and lots of treasure hunting for bike parts.  I had begun meeting Andrea Garcia for lunch in the park a block from the Pharmacy.  She was lonely since her divorce so we connected in that way.  She made it clear from the beginning that it was to be a friendship not a love affair.  For some reason that suited me just fine.  I was a little surprised when it seemed to be enough.

Over that next couple of weeks I learned a lot about her life.  Andrea had a teenaged daughter who had decided that her mother wasn't near as smart as she had been a couple of years before.  It was typical teenage bullshit.  I knew it from what my wife's letters had said about cindy.  Kids just feel cut off and alone when they have hormones raging.  At least that had been my wife's explanation.  All a parent could do was try to keep their mistakes harmless, and clean up the crap both real and emotions that they left in their wake.  My wife had been forced to do that alone most of the time.  Between her first husband cutting out when Cindy was a few months old, and then her marrying a man with itchy feet, she had raised her daughter almost completely by herself.

Andrea was doing th same thing.  I was at a loss to advise her and I think that might have been my appeal to her.  I admitted that I didn't know squat, when I'm sure everyone else was giving her advice.  All I could do was sympathize.  I also talked to her about herself not her brat.  That might have been appealing as well.  For what ever reason Andrea and I had lunch together most days.  If one of us couldn't make it we called.  Exactly as we would if it were a date, which I assure you Andrea and I never considered it.

I had the bike parts on hand and was ready to build the next senior bike.  To perfectly honest I missed the electric bike.  There was something soothing about the quiet of the bike.  Even the much reduced speed of it suited me fine.  

One morning on the way to breakfast I saw my electric bike go humming by.  I gave chase and found it parked in front of the local hardware store.  I cornered the buyer inside.  He told me how much he loved the bike.  He found himself dreaming up things to do just to ride it.  

He said the charger was a bit slow so he might get me to build him a trailer after all.  The auto type batteries could be charged at a higher rate of speed.  I had charged my batteries for only one hour after a ride.  I had a timer on the charger to prevent over charging even though the charger shut itself down when the batteries were charged.  Or so the  manufacturer claimed.  I was again convinced that the trailer and big batteries was the way to go.  He did say his range was increased by two or three miles with the lighter batteries.  I wasn't surprised by that.

Since he didn't ask for his money back, it was time to get serious with the new build.  After breakfast, I rode home to begin the assembly.  Unfortunately it couldn't begin until I did something paint wise.  The frame itself wasn't too bad but it did have scratches.  All of the wheels I would be using had rust spots. It ranged from a light dusting to a complete covering of surface rust.  The rust wasn't deep enough to weaken the metal but was unsightly.  I had been seriously considering a color scheme for the new bike.  

Color would make a difference to little old ladies, more than to guys buying one because they had lost their driver's license.  Yes I expected some business from drunks.  The gasoline bike would appeal more to the DWI crowd though.

The second bike frame was only 24" and a girls bike again.  The yellow spray can paint did a pretty good job of covering the previous yellow.  Trying to stay with the same color seemed to be the easiest way to go.  I could vary the color when I added parts from the child's bike.  I hung a couple of goodwill sheets on the rear of the garage to catch the over spray so that the old man wouldn't have a seizure.

Since it was so much trouble to set up, I went ahead and painted the kids bike parts as well.  I painted the handle bars flat black, then the rear wheel and crank set the same color.  I also painted the front wheel of the 24" bike black as well.  While the parts dried, I rode the gasoline bike to the park to have lunch with Andrea Garcia.

"So Michael what are you up to?"  She said it looking a the paint on my hands.  I had missed some spots during my quick clean up with gasoline.

"Painting my new bike," I replied smiling.

"I do hope you plan to charge more this time?  Your last customer was in the store talking about what a deal he got from you."

"No, I hadn't planned to charge any more."

"So how is it coming along?"

"It's doing just fine.  I have plenty of time to work on it, the messenger business is very slow."

"Michael this is a small town, you knew there wouldn't be much to do."

"Yes I know.  I really wouldn't want any more to do.  Hey guess what?"

"I hate guessing games.  What is it that you are dying to tell me?"

"I'm going to have a birthday."

"Oh when is your birthday?"

"Saturday, I'm going to be sixty."   I knew she wouldn't ask so I threw it out there.

"Sometimes I forget that you are older than me.  You seem so active and full of life, it hard to image that you aren't twenty."

"Don't I wish I was.  My aching bones remind me that I'm no kid anymore."

"So I guess I'll have to bake you a cake?"

"I wasn't hinting, but that would be wonderful."

"Well you will have to come to my house.  I certainly do not want any of the others at the drugstore to know."

"I'm that bad huh?"  I laughed to show that I was joking.  

I passed the week building the next senior bike, and making delivery runs.  The lawyer business was picking up as well the deliveries.  I didn't really care for the summons serving business but it was steady and that was more important than my likes and dislikes.  I still did not have a long distance second bike, and that troubled me some.  I built a second trailer and had a second set of batteries charged and ready to go.  Since it only took an hour to charge them, I figured I could recharge one set while I used a set if worse came to worse.  I just did not want a second gasoline bike.  So I was pretty much putting my hopes on the electric senior models.

I had the bike built and ready for a motor on Friday afternoon.  I decided not to buy the electric setup until at least Sunday.  The biggest auction closing day on ebay seemed to be Sunday.  I took my only bike out to check the yard sales on Saturday morning.  

The first two sales had nothing of interest to me.  At the third sale, I saw a kids electric scooter leaning against a tree.  "Does that scooter work?" I asked of the woman taking the money.

"It did till my husband tried to ride it.  He broke the rear tire and we haven't found a replacement."

"Ah I see, how much do you want for it?"

"We paid almost a hundred dollars."  She said it as though she expected me to offer her something close to that.  I simply stood looking at her.  When I didn't make and offer, she went on, "How about fifty dollars?"

"I'm sorry it might cost a lot to get it fixed and I would wind up with more in it than a new one.  I could see twenty for it.  I don't expect you to sell it for that though."  I shrugged my shoulder.

"Okay, I'll take twenty.  It is just taking up space in our garage."  I gave her the twenty dollars then, tied it to my big bike utility trailer.  I went from that yards sale directly home.  I didn't want to drag the scooter around.  I was also curious to see what I could salvage from it.

Once home I began removing the bike components.  I took the brake, the throttle, and the controler off before I tackled the motor.  I removed the motor, drive belt and both wheels.  Since the rear wheel was flat, and the tire was pretty worn, I switch both tire and tube from the front wheel.

I set the two small lead acid batteries aside to charge.  I had no idea that I would ever use them except maybe for lights or something of that sort.  I doubted that they were any good at all.  

When I sat down to take a better look at what I had, I found the electric motor to be only 125watts.  If my calculations were right that would make it only, 5amps.  I began to wonder if I had wasted my money.  

Looking at the senior bike, I sat down to design a drive system for it.  First of all the rear wheel could be made to work as a friction drive by just building a frame.  Since I had used the smaller rear wheel on the bike again, there was plenty of room for the motor and most likely the wheel mounting as well.

It was getting late so I put the project on hold while I showered and dressed for my birthday party.  I knew it wasn't really a party but I didn't know what else to call it.  I left a little early since I had volunteered to stop for pizza.  I made that offer because I knew Andrea's teenaged daughter would be home.  She was too young to date so she would be our chaperone.  I doubted very seriously that we needed one, but it was part of her function.

I dressed in my good jeans, the ones without grease stains, and a pullover golf type shirt.  Both had come from goodwill.  I just wasn't interested in buying clothes.  I had picked them up while looking for bike parts.

"It's a really beautiful neighborhood," I said standing on Andrea's front porch. 

"Thank you, I wanted a safe place to raise my daughter so I spent the extra money."

"Well you can't get much safer than a gated community," I suggested.

The modern 2 story house was different from the neighbor's  houses, but also somehow the same.  There was a sense of unity even in the diversity.  Inside the dark wood and open glass design, I found a warm and almost old world charm.  

Outside the house was all hard straight lines but inside it was all warm and fuzzy.  It was the kind of place my mom would have had, if she had Andrea's money.  It reminded me of chocolate cake for some reason.  Andrea led me to the kitchen.  I had chocolate cake on the brain for sure.

"So where is your daughter?" I asked as I placed the pizza boxes on the table.

"Grace is upstairs doing god knows what in her bedroom."

"If her room is like my daughter's, it has more entertainment devices than your den."

"I didn't know you had a daughter."

"Yes but mine is grown, married, and has a son 3 years old."

"Do you have a wife as well?"

"My wife passed away a few months back."

"I'm so sorry," she said.  I could tell from her expression that she really did feel sympathy.

"Thanks, well we need to start on this pizza while it is at least warm."  I said it to change the subject.

"Let me call Grace," with those words Andrea left me alone in the kitchen.  

Since I was alone in the kitchen I sat at the table and tried my hardest not to be nosey.  It didn't work of course.  If you want to know about a woman, look at the things sticking on her refrigerator.  You can tell a lot from the notes.  The was a very prominent note on the frig.  The note was to  remind someone in the house to take life one day at a time.  I recognized it as not just good advice, but a reminder that the battles in life had to be fought one at a time.  Sometimes you have to forget the big picture and focus on just moving forward no matter how small the victory.

I was curious so I kept looking.  There was also an appointment reminder for Grace.  She had an appointment with a mental health clinic.  That along with the 'friend of Bill's' advice led me to believe Grace had a substance abuse problem.  Odds were I was about 100% wrong since she was awfully young to be seeing a shrink for a drug problem, then again it was none of my business.

Grace looked a lot like her mother except she had youthful blonde hair.  She was a typical fifteen year old girl, cute.  Yes cute was the best way to describe her.  She might have a set of physical characteristics in common with her mother, but she lacked a certain maturity in her features.  Andrea was almost beautiful but Grace was just cute.  It was a real difference.

There was one more difference, grace had the look of a junkie.  If she was in fact off the drugs, it hadn't been very long.  Her eyes weren't sunken and she didn't have the shakes, but she still drifted into that vacant stare of a junkie.  It was the 'I'm lost' look more than anything else that gave her away.  She also toyed with the pizza which was not a good sign for a teenager.

I studied her then Andrea over the pizza.  I looked over at Andrea to see her looking thoughtfully at me.  It was then that I realized I had been set up.  She wanted me to see her daughter, to figure out that she was in trouble, and probably to get involved somehow.   I decided to play dumb instead.

The cake was delicious.  Homemade chocolate cake was something I had missed out on over the years.  On the few birthdays I was home, my wife had made my cakes.  Even when it wasn't my birthday she baked for me.  I guess I subconsciously associated homemade chocolate cake with love.

Over the pizza it became obvious that the relationship between Andrea and Grace was strained.  I tried to ignore it but it made me uncomfortable enough to rush through my pizza.  The pizza was good and the cake was excellent so I did enjoy dinner on that level.  The emotional strain was making it very hard for me to have a good experience.  

Andrea was trying hard to include her daughter in the conversation but the daughter had no interest.  She seemed to be in a hurry to get away from us.  She reminded me some of my step daughter in that respect.  Unlike Cindy, it wasn't just me she wanted to get away from.  Cindy and her mother had been close, I was just a stranger to her.  

Grace on the other hand wanted to get away from her mother.  No matter what Andrea thought, Grace was not happy about her situation at the moment.  I had a feeling that her new found sobriety, if it were real, was not Grace's idea.  That being the case, it was only temporary.  I had no desire to get involved so I tried to ignore them both.

Dinner came to a merciful end after half an hour of struggling to make conversation.  Andrea tried too hard to engage her daughter.  Grace mumbled and grunted her replies.  It was just plain embarrassing for me.  It was one of the worst family experiences in my life.  God knows I had enough of those meals at home.  I didn't need one in my new life.  

When the cake was cut, I quickly had my piece then made excuses to leave.  I really did want to get back to work on the ebike so it wasn't a total lie.  I rode my gasoline bike home and was grateful that the experience was over.

It was too late for me to get much done so I put off working until Sunday.  Instead I wrote on the blog and did some research on my bike parts.  I already knew that the scooter had a small 120 watt motor.  I could find very little information about it's viability for the bike.

In the end I still had no idea if it would be sufficient for the senior bike.  The motor on the last bike had been double that and seemed only barely adequate.  Still I had to like the price of the drive system so far.  All I could do was to try it.

Sunday morning I finished the bike assembly and was ready for the engine in short order.  I looked around the shop for parts to secure the motor and then mount the drive wheel.  It was my plan to mount the engine to the wishbone behind the seat of the bike.  Then to somehow rig the scooters rear wheel drive to ride on top of the bike's rear wheel.  the connection between the motor and the drive wheel was the original belt from the scooter.  I kept the front scooter wheel just in case I could switch if for the rear drive wheel some day.

I  had nothing in the garage to mount either the motor or the drive wheel.  I also needed enough wire to splice in to make the throttle work.  In other words it was off to the hardware store with a list and my utility trailer attached.

I found the answer to my motor attachment was a couple of large plumber's steel pipe bands like those used for radiator hoses only much larger.  Two of those would hold the motor to a mending bar, which I could bolt to the bike's frame.  I decided that I could attach the rear wheel mechanism to a U shaped bracket.  I could make it from two L shaped shelf supports.  A couple of axle braces could be fashioned from the fender supports.  The fender had removed from the bike first thing.  I picked up a few mending strips in various lengths to use to adjust the distance from the scooter's rear drive to the motor's location.  I needed to do that to get the belt tight enough.

I headed back home with the parts and a few tools I thought I might need tucked safely in my trailer.  I saw the car in the old man's drive and recognized it from the night before.  Andrea had come to visit.  Before that Saturday night fiasco I would have been thrilled.  But I was more than a little wary of her visit.

"Hi, hang on a minute while I put the bike away."  I backed the bike into the walk in door of the garage.  I wasn't allowed to use the garage door.  It didn't matter the garage was situated so that I could push the bikes in and out without any real problem.  I took time to empty the trailer before I left the garage.  I found Andrea still standing just outside the door.

"So you want to take a walk?"  I asked to try to put her at ease.

"Could we just go somewhere and talk?"

"Of course," I replied.  "Where would you like to go."

"How about we just go inside."  Andrea was not smiling at all.

"I don't live in the house.  I live above the garage."  I waited for a reply of some kind.  Instead she walked to the steps.  She began to climb them without another word.  I tagged along behind her.  So stepped aside at the top of the stairs so that I could open the door.

"I can reheat some coffee or give you a coke," I suggested.

"Nothing for me," she said.  Andrea had something heavy on her mind.  There was no doubt about it.  I had never seen her so lacking in expression.  That night she was the poster child for depression, I decided.  I nodded but I still put a delta coffee cup filled with the morning's coffee into the tiny microwave.  She might not need coffee but I sure did.  I had a feeling of dread.

"So what brings you to this end of town?  You out slumming tonight?"  I had a big smile on my face.  I wanted her to know that I was kidding.  I also hoped things would stay light.

"I wanted to talk to you about Grace."  Andrea said it flatly.  I had no idea what she wanted but I had a pretty good idea that I wasn't going to like it.

"Okay, what about Grace?"

"I saw how you looked at her."  I was waiting to see how she meant that.  "You could tell something was wrong couldn't you?"

"Actually, she seemed like your run of the mill, know it all teen.  I have a step daughter not so many years older than Grace.  I remember those years well."  It wasn't a real lie.  I had read all about my wife's struggles with her daughter.  I knew it was a monumental task for a woman alone.  I had sympathy for Andrea.

"It's a little more than your typical teenaged rebellion," Andrea informed me.

"Oh?"

"Grace has been involved with drugs."  Andrea looked away when she said it.

"Has been as in she is clean now, or has been as in she is still taking drugs."

"Grace got clean for a few weeks, then that trash who supplies her drugs came back into her life."

"So she would really rather be on drugs but gets clean when her supply dries up."  Andrea looked down and nodded. "How big is the habit?"

"What do you mean?"

"How is she paying for the drugs?"

"He gives them to her.  Grace  has no money of her own."

I looked Andrea in the eye and said it without trying to soften the blow at all.  "She is paying.  You can count on it.  How and how much is the only unknown."

"She disappears for a week at a time, when he comes around.  I guess I always knew how she was paying.  A mother just doesn't like to think that of her daughter."

"How old is the boyfriend?"

"She is too young to have a boyfriend."  I looked at her hard, and she added, "I don't know.  I'm sure he is older than her."

"Oh of that you can be sure.  Boys her age don't have the kind of money to buy her drugs.  The man who comes back into her life is probably a grown man."

"Yes, I think he is."

"I would guess that he likes his girlfriends young.  Andrea that is the best case scenario.  It might be even worse."

"How could it be worse?"

"Oh trust me it could be worse than a grown boyfriend.  He might have her turning tricks for the drugs."

"My daughter is not a drug whore," she snapped.

"No, your daughter is a stone junkie."

Andrea turned toward the door.  I didn't say a word as she almost left.  I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew that she first had to face reality, if she really wanted to help her daughter.  Things will never be what you want them to be.  They will be what they are.  Once in a while you can exert come influence on them, but mostly you can only let them unfold.  As my dad said, "Some times you just got to live through life."

She had her hand on the door when she surrendered. I could see her body slump.  "You are right.  I don't even recognize her sometimes."

"That can happen at her age even if she isn't on drugs."

"I need help.  I have had her in counseling for months.  The counselor says she is getting better but I can't see it."

"If the counselor told you it was a total waste of your money, would you continue paying her."

"Of course not," then she realized what I was saying.  It was in the counselor's best interest to tell her what she wanted to hear.  "So what do I do?"

"Find her a prison with feather pillows," I suggested.

"What?"

"Find her a residential rehab.  One that is tough as hell, so that she can't get the junk and the boyfriend can't find her.  But first she has to want to get clean and sober.  All the pushing in the world won't help."

"I think the counselor is working toward that goal.  To make her see that she needs to clean up."

"If you want to go that route fine,"  I said it as though I thought it was a bad idea, because I did.  Her daughter would decide to clean up when she had a good enough reason.  She would stay clean only when she had a good enough reason.  The reason could be anything but only she could find it.

I was not a big believer in shrinks, as you can tell.  I believe in experience.  You can tell someone what it's like to sit in a jungle trying not to swat bugs, but they don't really know till they have been there.  It's like that with drugs.  Junkies see drugs as relief, just like killing that pesky bug.  They never see death as the eventual outcome of their actions.  You shoot up or slap the bug and begin a chain of events that could easily end in your death.

"So, if you have it all mapped out, what is it you think I can do?"

"I,"  She paused a moment then went on, "You aren't like other people.  You know things, I can see it in your eyes."  She gave me a stern look.  "I heard about Mr Thomas's son in law."

"He tripped."

"Of course he did."

I changed the subject.  "So what is it you want from me?"

"I want you to keep the boyfriend/dealer away from her."

"No you don't."  I said it matter of factly.

"Why don't I?"

"Because the only way to do that is to kill him."  I said it so that there was no point to discussing it.

"Can't you just threaten him?"

"And when that doesn't work and it won't, what then?  If he is dealing drugs, he has been threatened before.  He will recognize a bluff.  You have to understand human life means less to some people than it does to you."  I purposefully did not explain how I knew that.

"What am I going to do?"

I found a receipt from the Home Depot and wrote a name on the back of it.  "You can look these people up on the internet.  They are as good as there is.  If they can't get her clean, no one can.  But she has to sing in voluntarily.  They don't hold people against their will.  While she is in the program, sell everything you own and move away.  Move far enough so that it is inconvenient for him to follow her.  He will just move on to some other young girl.  He has time and money invested in your daughter, so he will never leave her alone as long as it is easy for him to get to her.  Make it difficult and he will just move on.

"How do I convince Grace to sign herself into a residential program."

"I would ask her if she wanted to die or go into the program.  That really is her only choice.  You surely have a cop friend who can get you some pictures of dead junkies.  Beat her over the head with them.  Confront her and fight for her life.  Yell, scream, slap her around if you have to, but get her in the program."

"She might just run away," Andrea suggested miserably.

"She is already gone.  You either bring her back or she slips away most likely forever."

Andrea didn't get the instant fix she was expecting, so I'm sure she felt that she was leaving empty handed.  What she got was a hard lesson in life.  Sometimes life is a bitch in a long blue dress, and sometimes it is just a shit sandwich with no mustard. 

After Andrea left I let her problem slip to the back of my mind.  I knew that the problems were difficult and challenging to her, but not to me.  My problem was fitting the new senior bike with the small electric motor from the skate board.  I had the bike all set up and ready to go by seven.  I was really curious but was just too exhausted to test it,

The motor was attached to the wishbone behind the seat using large pipe clamps from the plumbing department of Home Depot.  The rear scooter wheel assembly was held in place with a series of L brackets and fender drop rods.  The whole thing seemed tight.  The belt drive looked as though it would work out just fine.  

After a shower I worked on my blog for a while.  I had planned to turn in early, when the cell phone chirped.

"Hello," I said into the tiny device.

"Hi there I need a package delivered," the male voice said.

"Sorry, I am shut down for the evening.  Call back tomorrow."

"This is really important couldn't you make an exception."

"I'm sorry but no.  Call me tomorrow."

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"No, and at the moment I don't much care.  I'm shut down until tomorrow."

"Suit yourself but you'll be sorry."

"I always do and I usually am."  The phone went dead.  There was something ominous in that call.  I began to get a bad feeling about Andrea.  She might have gone home to confront her daughter, the daughter might have called her druggie boyfriend, who in turn called me.  The timing fit well enough.  I did not like the feeling of dread that swept over me.

I had Andrea's home number because she gave it to me before the birthday cake fiasco.  It was just in case something came up.  I called her hoping I was wrong in my guess.

"Andrea have you talked to your daughter about the rehab center?"

"I talked to her as soon as I arrived home."

"Where is she?"

"In her room, why?"

"Look in on her to make sure, and ask her if she called her friend."

"You mean the drug dealer.  I am sure she hasn't called anyone."  She sounded almost snippy.

"Just look in and ask her please.  It may be important."

The phone was silent for a while.  When she came back she said, "She is gone."

"Now listen carefully and do exactly as I say.  Do not pack and do not waste a single moment get the hell out of the house.  Go somewhere your daughter does not know about and do it right now."

"What are you talking about?"

"I am pretty sure she went to him and asked for help.  I expect his idea of help is not the same as hers.  Now just get out of there right this minute."  I hung up the phone since I didn't have time for senseless arguments.

I slipped quietly out of my den and down the steps.  I waited in the shadows of the garage.  I had no idea what was on the way.  There might not have been anything at all, or it might have been an RPG through the window.  I wasn't sure how he would find my address.  I wasn't in the phone book since I had no landline.  The cell would not show up anywhere unless he could get the company to give him my billing address.

Andrea know but she was a friend.  She could also be convinced to talk, which is what I expected to happen.  If I had been the doper, and wanted to send a leave me alone message, I would have sent an article of Grace's clothing with blood on it to Andrea.  And who better to deliver it than me.

Andrea must have listened to me, or they found her and the doper had no business with me.  Either way I didn't have any visitors.  I didn't have Andrea's cell phone so after two hours of standing guard, I went back upstairs and locked up good.  

I didn't hear the shots, but I heard the sirens.  I looked out of the one small window in the front of the garage.  I saw the flashing blue light in the drive.  My first urge was to rush down, but I knew that if there was a problem, I could well be shot by accident.

The cop who came to me door about twenty minutes late was a real milk drinker.  Looked to be about sixteen, but I knew he had to be at least 21 to even be a cop.

"Burke?" he asked from the landing at the top of my steps.

"Yeah, I'm Burke.  What's all the fuss?"  I almost hated to find out.  It could range from an accident to a homicide.  Blue lights in the middle of the night was never a good thing."

"It looks like a drive by shooting."

"Anybody hurt?"

"Not that we know about.  Just some holes in the windows of your landlord."

"The old man didn't have a heart attack did he?"

"No, not even shook up.  Says he just called so that his insurance would pay for the windows."

"If he isn't hurt, he will have all the windows in the house replaced with the insurance footing the bill."  I said it with a smile I didn't feel at all.

"So I take it you don't know who did the shooting."

"Not me, I'm new in town.  I haven't had time to make cursing enemies let alone shooting ones."  I thought about it a moment.  "It could be one of his girlfriends with a jealous husband."

"Oh he said he didn't have any girlfriends.  So there is a girlfriend?"

"Not that I know of but who knows what these folks do down at the senior center?"  I laughed out loud.

He was not amused.  "Well thanks for your help."  He didn't mean it, but I didn't mind at all.

So Grace's boyfriend wanted to send me a message.  Someone knew where I lived, but not exactly where.  The bike stood out like a sore thumb so someone could have seen me pull into the drive.  Or Andrea could have told him, but didn't go into great detail.  Well the least I could do was to find out about my shooter.  Since I wanted to do it without any fuss, it became impossible to just ask around.  It was going to be a challenge, since I wasn't sure that a warning was the real intent.  If I knew it was a simple warning, I could go about my business and collect information over months.

Since I didn't know for sure what his intentions were, I needed to find the information quickly but very, very quietly.  Andrea was the best source for me.  She would know enough to get me started. I also doubted that she would know the kinds of people for it to get spread back to Grace's friend.

I returned to my bed.  I was relatively sure the nights drama had played out.  Nothing could be done until the morning anyway, so I opted for five or six more hours of sleep.  

The next morning, with a freshly topped off battery pack, I gave the bike a test ride.  The speed might have been down a mile an hour or so, but I doubted even that.  The lower amperage pull of the motor gave the bike a better range.  It went from eight miles to ten.  It was a good sign.  After my last bike with the throttle, I decided that the controller and throttle from the cheap scooter might have actually helped the bike obtain the extra range.  Even if it didn't the rider felt a little more in control of his bike.

"Michael are you alright?"  I looked at the clock.  It was almost noon.  I had been sitting home waiting for her call.

"I'm fine, did Grace call you last night?"

"She called, she said that she was alright."

"So is she planning to come  home?"

"No she said she was going to stay with Hector."  At least I had some of his name.  "Why did you have me leave home last night."

"Just being overly protective I suppose."

"Do you think I'm in danger?"

"I have no idea.  He has Grace, that may be enough for him.  If you don't make waves he will probably leave it alone.  Drama isn't good for his business.  He stays in business by staying off the cop's radar."  What I didn't tell her was the shooting was a knee jerk reaction and cutting her into small pieces might have been as well.  I had no idea what the jerk was capable of.  He might have seen the movie 'Scarface' too many times.

"Then I can go home tonight?"

"I suppose so."

Of course the car took off like a bat out of hell, leaving me to clean up his mess.  Several witnesses stopped to help out.  There just wasn't much they could do.  My bike was ruined, and I was a mess.  I used my cell phone to cancel the delivery.  I told the store owner to send one of his people, or tell the grower he needed to send a picker in.  I was out of commission for a while at least.

"You are bleeding," It was a young mother with a child in tow who spoke.  "I live over there," she said pointing to a house nearby.  "Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I'll be fine.  I don't think anything is broken.  I expect I look a lot worse than I feel."  What I didn't say was that I didn't feel all that good either.  I sure as hell didn't need a hospital bill at the moment.  

I heard the siren long before I saw the cop car.  I had a feeling it was headed my way.  All of a sudden I needed to sit down again.  My usual balance problem increased ten fold as I felt myself begin to sway.  I made it to a metal pole with some kind of sign attached before I sank to the ground.  I didn't pass out but my mind was in neutral.  The people around me seemed to be in a fog.

"What happened," the young officer asked.  "It wasn't the same officer as the one from the night before, but he wasn't much older.

"Traffic accident," I replied.

"Hold on we have an ambulance coming.  Did the car stop?"  I realized that he was asking that of the small crowd.

"Hell no, the son of bitch speeded up.  Couldn't wait to get away."

"Can you tell me what the car looked like?"

"Better than that, you have pictures of the whole thing.  Over there on that pole is one of those Florida state intersection cameras.  Been there about two weeks, they are checking to see if they need a stoplight here."  It was the young mother who lived nearby.  "We have been raising hell to get something done about this intersection."

"I'm just gonna' close my eyes and rest," I said aloud.

When I opened them again I was in the emergency room of the hospital.  "Mr. Burke, how you doing?"

"I'm fine, I just took a nap," I said hoping someone would believe me.

"Sure, looks like you took a nasty fall.  Cars and bikes shouldn't try to share the same space at the same time."

"Yeah," I replied unable to think of a witty reply.

The voice was replaced by a different one.  "So how you feeling champ?"

"I feel fine, but I think the other guy is the champ.  I expect I am the one who took the beating."

"Sounds like a reasonable assessment.  Hold on and I'll take a look and tell you more."  He poked and prodded me for a few minutes then said, "You are damn lucky."

"I know nothing major is busted,"

"That too, but also that we are not a trauma center."

"What's the difference?"

"About fifty thousand dollars, and you will be able to walk out of here in about an hour."

"You got to love small town  hospitals," I replied.

"Emergency clinic, you didn't even rate the hospital."  The doctor and the nurses all laughed at his joke.  I didn't.

"Do you have someone to come get you?"

"I'll call a cab," I replied.

"You can't do that.  We have to release you into someone's care or send you on to the hospital."

"Give me my phone," I demanded.  

"When we are finished," the doctor said.  Then he launched into all these directions.  Do this to the scrapes, and take that pill for the pain.  He told me I was going to have some joint pain, I didn't bother to tell him I always had joint pain.

When they finally let me have my phone, I called Andrea Garcia at the drugstore.  I explained what had happened and asked her to come pick me up.  While I waited for her to arrive, I settled the bill.  My insurance as a retired government employee paid 80% of the thousand dollar plus bill.  I put $225 on my Visa card.

I was sitting on the edge of the flower planter, in front of the clinic, when Andrea Garcia drove up.  I went to the car before she could do anything silly like run around to open the door for me.  The clinic had pumped me full of local anesthesia while they cleaned up the scrapes so I felt no pain.  I was a little foggy so I didn't jump up either.  I carefully got into the car.

"Mike, I'm so sorry I got you into this."

"I'm not sure this has anything to do with you."

"I heard about the shooting at your house."

"It wasn't my house.  It was the landlord's house.  It's no big deal, nobody was hurt and he has insurance for the windows."

"Was he angry?"

"He doesn't know anything about this, but he asked me to move anyway.  In his case I think he is just being a little paranoid."

"I hardly think so he might have been killed."   She took a deep breath, "Where to?"

I noticed he look at her watch.  "Take me home, I can use the ebike to check on my other one."

She nodded.  "Mike I really am sorry you could have been killed."

"Oh if it was someone who really wanted me dead, I would be.  If it really does have something to do with you and Grace, I expect this was a butt out message."

"Maybe you should?"  I could tell she didn't mean it but I had no intention of letting her in on my plans either. not that I had any.

"Yeah, I'll give it all some thought."  The rest of the drive to my house was in silence.  It wasn't noticeable since the drive was only a few minutes.

"So I'll be by for you around six.  I can change your bandages and look after you."

"I'm fine and I'll look after you."  I grinned at her.  Not a lusty grin, but just a confident one.

After she left I rode the ebike to the service station, where my bike had been towed.  I could have had it towed home but I wasn't on the scene when the tow truck took it away.

"Man you are one lucky dude," the manager of the station said to me after I identified myself.

"If I was really lucky, I would still be riding the bike, not looking to see what I can salvage."

"Well the bike is junk, but it probably was before the accident."  I gave him a hard look.  "I noticed all the rust on that thing."  

"Oh yes, it was a rescue bike to begin with."  I admitted it.  It looks like the engine just got scratched up some."

"Some hell, that thing is a mess.  Only reason it isn't leaking oil is that it is a two stroke and has no oil."

"Yes but the cylinder and the clutch rod looks okay.  The scratched up gear cover and magneto cover is no big deal.  I'm sure it looks worse than it is."  I could tell from the look he gave me that he didn't believe it for a minute.  "I'm just going to need to buy a bike and switch the motor out."

"You got anything in mind?"  I looked at him a little suspiciously.

"No nothing," I replied.

"My kid bought a 21 speed bike in the spring.  His old bike is sitting in my garage.  If you want, I'll make you a good deal in it."

"Oh how good a deal?"

"You owe me thirty for the tow,"  he saw my reaction.  "I know it's steep for a short tow but the county sheriff sets the rate.  Don't matter if it was less than a mile, or twenty.  Fifty bucks for the tow and the bike.  That bike is like new.  It is in a lot better shape than the one you wrecked."

"If I do the fifty, I get to do the work here tomorrow."  We both knew it was a reasonable demand.

"Bring your own tools." he demanded which was the same as closing the deal.

"Have the bike here tomorrow, if it is as you say, then I'll pay you and go to work."

When I got home again it was mid morning.  I had time to work on my on line journal a bit.  I entered the details of the bike accident without mentioning that drug dealer angle.  I thought it was interesting enough to be a blurb on the blog.

I even had time to take the ebike out to a late lunch.  I really did like the quiet and even the slower pace of that bike.  It would only go half the speed and a few miles, but it was quite nice in its own way.  I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I was asked about the bike over lunch.  After all I did have the for sale sign on it.  Even though I wasn't ready to sell it, I told the older man and woman all about it.

The ebike had its own trailer so I could have made my purchase and rode it home on top of the batteries, but I didn't think I had enough juice to do that.  I knew what I wanted to buy, but it would have to wait until I got the gasoline bike running again.  

When Andrea came I was sitting on my steps with a cup of coffee.  She didn't get out of the car so I walked over to it.  She didn't look good.  "You okay?" I asked.

"Yes, just a hard day and a lot of worry about Grace."

I nodded.  "Let me get my stuff and we can leave."

When we got to the gate of her community, I had her pull over while I spoke with the guard.  "Hi there," I said to the white haired man a few years older than me.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, my grand daughter ran away last night.  I came down to help my daughter find her."  It was as good a lie as any and it explained the age differences.

"I'm sorry, is there something I can do."

"Yes, she ran away sometime around eleven.  If she left the community, she would have to go through this gate right?"

"If she left in a car yes.  Is she wanted to climb or go under the fence she could have.  The kids have several places around here like that."

"Yeah, I kind of expected as much."

"So if she left in a car, you would have made a record of it and called her mother?"

"Yes but if she left with another resident, I wouldn't have paid any attention.  I really only look at the stickers on the windshield.  Guests have to be cleared in by the home owner.  Kids can not clear cars in."

"She she couldn't have called and pretended to be her mother and had you let a car in?"

"Well maybe, the clearance can be done by phone."  he looked at his long then said, "But her mother didn't clear anyone in."

"Is there anyway to tell if a guest was cleared in between ten and eleven."  He looked over at Andrea sitting in her car.  She looked worried as well she should.  It was tough on her but it seemed to help the guard make up his mind.  A guest was signed in to visit Mrs Adams at eleven fifteen.  They signed out again at eleven thirty."

"Could you call to verify that the Mrs Adams authorized someone to enter."  He hesitated.  "I know it's asking a lot but if you don't ask her I will."  He didn't answer he just picked up the phone.  I walked outside to give him some privacy.

"She didn't call anyone in last night.  Looks like Grace Garcia made the call."

"Yes, I guess so.  Do you have a license number?"

"Yes but I really shouldn't give it to you."

"I don't see why not, you don't have to keep the confidence of someone who might have kidnapped that little girl."  He and I both knew she wasn't little and certainly wasn't kidnapped, but on the six o'clock news she would be both.

"I remember that car now.  It was a new Buick with blacked out windows.  Here you go,"  he said handing me a scrap of paper with the number.

When we got to Andrea's house, I used her computer to find a picture of the latest model Buicks.  I found a black Buick Lucerne which was a good match to the car that ran me down.  I wondered who the car belonged to.  The easiest way to find out and not have it traced back to me later, was to make a phone call.  Yes someone would know that I was checking, but the cops would never  be able to connected the source me.  Even better the source would never come forward on there own.

While Andrea did whatever women do when they  get ready for dinner,  I used my cell phone to call the home phone number of an old friend.

"Hey there guy, it's me Mike."  The small statement triggered a question.

"Mike are you alright.  I know you are too mean to die, but that leaves a lot of other things that can happen."

"So you have been reading the journal?"

"You know I have.  Actually a lot of us are reading it.  One of your er friends at FIBBY is checking out the not so Right Reverend at the moment.  If nothing else, IRS is going to be taking a hard look at her finances."

"I didn't mean for that to happen," I replied.

"Then be careful what you write in your journal.  Lots of people have an interest in you, some good, some not so good."

"I only gave that site to you and Smyth, how did the rest of them find it."

"Come on Mike you signed the permission for the blanket wiretap.  It runs for five years.  If you draw the pension, you have the routine surveillance.  The office doesn't want to fund free lancers."

"I see, I never thought that was real.  I thought it was like the boogy man, just a story to keep us in line."

"NSA knows when you fart, so lay off the beans." 

The line was quiet while I tried to think of a way to phrase it that wouldn't be too suspicious. "I have the license number of the car that ran me off the road.  I would like to have a chat with the owner.  Think you can find out who owns the car and a little about them for me."

"You know the old man doesn't like us doing that kind of thing."

"Yeah I know.  It's okay I can probably find it on the net."

"I think, I can check the obvious non classified files for you.  I have an Emerson."

"If you would I would be very grateful."

"Grateful hell, I expect to be paid."

"Do I have to travel all the way to Washington to make the payment."

"Who knows.  I might just show up at your door."

"I would wait a couple of weeks for that, I might be moving."

"Do I want to know why?"

"Just a disagreement with the landlord nothing to it."

"Okay give me the license number, the family is circling the wagons here.  Mike you should check your email for a while.  I think there will be messages for you.  I don't like the telephone."

"Can do and thanks."  I had been careful not to mention the sources name.  If they were listen to my end, they only knew it was a friend.  I had plenty of those.  Yes they could trace the number, but the trace was a dead end.  I had ended my dead end phone, when I set up the business.  I could go back to one, and probably would if I had to leave in a hurry.

"Who did you call?" Andrea asked.  "I heard your voice so I stayed in the kitchen to give you some privacy."

"Thank you, I made the call on my cell so it won't be on your phone."

"That isn't why I asked."

"I know. I was talking to an old girlfriend."  Okay I mislead her, but then again it wasn't a complete lie.

Angela dropped it as I hoped she would.  There were some basic decisions I needed to make before I decided how much to tell Angela.  I wasn't quite ready to make those decisions.

She removed the bandages from my two worst scrapes.  She covered them with antibiotic ointment then recovered them.  I would have left them open to dry but she was the expert.  I did use her scissors to cut off the work pants that I wore.  It was hot enough for shorts and not having the fabric rub on the large bandage on my knee would be a good thing.

"I would take you out for dinner Andrea, but I really didn't think about it when I chose to wear old grease stained clothes."  The clothes were clean just stained.

"It's okay, I expect you would be more comfortable staying in.  I will let you take me to dinner one night this week though."

"Fair enough," I replied.  Andrea was trying to be outwardly brave but she was torn up inside.  Anyone could have seen that even me.  "Hang in there honey, you never can tell, Gloria may just come walking in any minute."

"Do you really believe that?"

"You have to believe it Andrea, at least for now."

"And what do I believe tomorrow?" she asked.

"Tomorrow or the day after, you find something else to believe in.  Just go from day to day and do whatever it takes to bring her home."

"What will it take Mike?"

"I don't know the answer to that.  I do know that you have to be ready for whatever comes along.  She might show up out of the blue and you have to decide how you are going to handle it."  She nodded as if she understood.  "Andrea, one thing though, she won't ever be the little girl she was before so make some tough decisions now.  When she is ready to come home, she will be desperate, that is the time to get her into a program.  Don't let her bully you."

"The program is what chased her away."

"Yes it probably did, but she would have kept right on using.  You would have kept right on thinking she had it under control.  She would have kept on putting out for dope and you would have let her.  Until one day something else came up and she took off with her druggie boyfriend.   As long as she is using she is going to act just like a junkie."

"How do you know so much about it?" Angela snapped.

"I have seen it all before in places all over the world.  It's always the same.  A junkie in Thailand acts just like a junkie in LA. or even Port Saint Louise."

"You are sure she will come home." Andrea asked.

"I'm sure she will reach out to you one day.  How you respond is going to make a world of difference to her future."

Andrea shook her head then went in to cook dinner.  She made a flat pasta that had a nodding acquaintance with spaghetti with meat sauce.  I enjoyed it because it was good, and I didn't have to pay or leave a tip.  Well not in money, one way or another when a woman cooks for you, there is always a payment to be made.

She tried to shove me off to the guest room, but I chose to sleep on the sofa.  I wanted to be near the entrance just in case there was trouble.  I slept in short bursts all night long.  I expected the gate guard would give me some warning if anyone came.  I had gloria call down to advise the guard that she had not and would not be authorizing any visits, no matter what he heard later.  Since it was the same guard, he understood.   At my insistence she also suggested that he do a call back to verify anyone else who signed a guest in that night.

At that point she went to her room and to bed.  I flipped on the TV.  I wanted anyone who came to the door to at least think someone was awake in the house.  It might turn some away or it might cause them to burst in guns blazing.  It probably didn't make any difference but I gave it a shot.

The next morning I just had coffee.  Andrea had something that looked like bird seed with milk.  I didn't even want to know what it was.

Once home I just hooked up the ebike and rode to the service station.  I had a full tool kit but I really didn't need it.  The bike which the station owner brought in was a huge mountain bike.  His son must have been seven feet tall.  I got on it and couldn't even reach the ground without a very large tilt of the bike.  So much so that a motor would add enough weight to make it unmanageable.

The first thing I did was to drop the seat all the way to the frame.  That made the bike's height manageable but the pedals were too far back then.  It would be very uncomfortable for me to pedal the bike.  It was more an irritation that a problem since I wouldn't be pedalling it often.

Next I removed the motor and chain from my bike and installed it on the huge mountain bike.  Since the owner of the station wouldn't loan me a drill I got him to drill a hole in the bike's front tube for the motor mount.  I had the same problem with my old bike so I had all the parts in place to fix it.  The front tube was larger than the motor's mount.  The rear mount was almost too small, but it only took a very little grinding of the frame to make it work. The metal didn't appear to have been significantly weakened.

With the motor off the wrecked bike I turned it over.  With the bike frame upside down I turned the rear wheel.  It appeared to be reasonable true.  I was glad to hear it since I didn't want to mount the rear sprocket on the mountain bike's wheel.  I had no use for the gears and I liked the have the coaster brake on the rear.  

The rear wheel switch wasn't hard at all.  I used the rear brake cable to control the clutch.  The front brake I left just as it was.  I used the mountain bikes gear selector as the throttle just as I had on my old bike.  I had taken five days to install the motor on my first bike and half a day to move it to the mountain bike.

When I test rode the bike I found that the chain from my old bike was sloppy on the huge mountain bike's chain ring but it worked well enough to start the motor.  For me that was its only purpose.

The motor came to life instantly.  That was an encouraging sign for sure.

The bike was up and running just fine.  I got both bikes  home with a minor amount of hiking back to pick up the senior bike.  The new bike did just fine and looked very similar to the one I had before it was wrecked.  Except for a dent in the gas tank, it could have been the same bike.  It did have different handlebars.  My old bars were bent beyond recognition.    I still had the bars from the child's bike, so I quickly painted them black, then installed them in place of the curly bars on the mountain bike.  It was another rag tag bike, but I liked it.

"Are you going to have your bike fixed today?"  Andrea asked it in a whisper.  I had told her to be careful calling me for a while.  Whispering wasn't what I had in mind.

"Yes," I said it in my regular voice.  "The bike is already repaired and running just fine."  I had been a little surprised that it went together so well.  "It really wasn't all that much of a job.  The first build it the hardest.  Just moving the parts isn't hard at all."

"So are you going to stay with me tonight?"

"Sure, if you feel it will do any good?"

"I would feel better.  I don't think Hector is finished with us."

"You might be right.  I don't have any idea.  What I do know is that if he comes calling, we need more than a phone to call to 911.  We need to go shopping for you some home protection."

"I'm afraid of guns," she said.

"Well what I have in mind isn't dangerous unless you are holding it backwards and I don't think anyone could do that."

"You were going to say not even you would do that.  I am still afraid of it, but you are right.  I saw how easy it is to breach the security at my gated community."

"Yeah in this world you are pretty much responsible for your own security."

"So, I'll pick you up at six and we can go out to dinner and shopping."

"Okay, I'll even dress for it.  Well dress as best I can anyway."

I spent the afternoon checking email and thinking about what I planned to do to clean up the mess I found myself in.  I still wasn't ready to make a final decision but I did place an order on ebay.  I wanted to have an option, if I decided to go redneck on Hector."

The email showed up around five in the afternoon.  It read simply.

"Mr. Burke,

I am sorry to inform you that the car you wish to purchase is not available.  The owner Mr. Hector Rameriz is not interested in selling.  You can contact Mr Rameriz at his home if you wish to pursue this purchase.  His address is 2120 Cypress Street Port Saint Louise Fl.  He should be available most anytime since he is not employed at this time.

If you can not reach him at that address you might check with his parole office to obtain a forwarding address.  Yes Mr Rameriz has been convicted of some minor drug charges but that should not cause a problem with his sale of the Buick in question.  Actually I believe that Mr Rameriz has a casual association with the local police so he could be considered a rehabilitated individual and trustworthy.

Miles Hardy auto broker.

An Emerson in the trade is a cold ID or usually several of them.  Even in those days it meant a cold computer as well.  An untraceable computer, usually taken in a raid of some kind which never made it to the reports.  Almost everyone in the bag had an Emerson.  The name came from a very well placed and hard to find mole.  When he finally got caught, we found out a lot about how he got away with it for years.  Lots of that information found its way into the craft as they called it.

It was nice to know Rameriz was a known drug dealer.  It was not so nice to know he was working with the cops.  The cops had a vested interest in looking the other way.  There was no sense reporting anything to them.  That is unless I wanted Rameriz to know.  Sometimes it was a good idea to pass messages to a target by duping someone he trusted.  I was collecting enough information to pursue Rameriz, if I chose to do so.

Taking out a drug dealer was harder than taking out a bank president, but easier than a dictator.  Well at least that was my opinion. 

"So dinner or shopping first?" Angela asked.

"I haven't eaten and I hate shopping, so if you don't have a preference let's eat first thing shop."  I said looking around to see if she was being followed.  No one seemed to be paying her Honda any attention at all.

"Any particular place you would like to go for dinner?" she asked.

"Nothing in particular.  Why don't you choose, since I promised to take you to dinner?"

"All right but no complaints," she demanded.

"Deal," I agreed readily, since I had no idea what restaurants were nice and which weren't.  I almost never ate out anywhere but fast food and the downtown cafe.

She chose one of those chain steak houses.  You know the one you see on TV all the time.  The price of the two meals was enough to feed me for a week.  I didn't complain because the way things were going, it might be that proverbial last meal.  The food was good, but to me food is like cars.  Once you get past the basic purpose all the rest is just window dressing.  A steak and a chunk of hamburger do the same things as far as I am concerned.  

I did find out a little more about Andrea and Grace over dinner.  Andrea had grace when she was around thirty.  Andrea didn't want to give me her real age at the time.  That with even my rough math skill would give me her current age.  It seemed that Andrea was a bit vain about her age.

When she had Grace, she was working for a big box retail store.  Andrea wasn't a divorcee as I had thought, she had never married.  Since Grace came along she hardly ever dated.  That's when I learned that Garcia was her step father's name.  

"So what about Grace's father?"  I asked it looking her in the eye so she would know that it was curiosity not judgmental.

"He was married with a family of his own.  I don't think I ever expected that he would divorce his wife, no that should be divorce his family."

"Does Grace ever see him?"

"She has never met him.  I know she is curious, but it would kill his wife to know about us. I never told her his name."

"Well it is something for a rehab counselor to explore.  I just don't know what, if anything, it has to do with her problems now.  So were I you, I would stop beating myself up about it."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Of course, when something goes wrong, a parent is always looking to blame themselves.  She  might have tried the drugs to be cool.  I might have nothing to do with you.  The reasons are best left for the shrinks."

"I know, first we have to get her back."  The word we had been way too easy rolling off her lips."

I had to fight her for the check, but she let me win.  She did insist on leaving the tip and I let her.  Dinner was over half a buck.  I shook my head all the way to the car.  The food was good, but not that good.

The Army and Navy store in the next larger town sold all kinds of guns.  Some were new some were trade ins.  We just caught a break in finding the used generic pump shot gun.  It was a twenty gauge youth model with a short barrel length.  

Andrea was not a small woman so she was able to handle it just fine.  The basement of the building had been converted to a shooting gallery.  Since it was used the owner agreed that if I bought it, I could take it down to check it out.  If it misfired, he would take it back.  He would then loan me a cleaning kit to clean it before I left.  All that for a buck and a half was a pretty good deal.  I tried to pay him but Angela insisted.  Not only that she was adamant.  I didn't want to be remembered by the gun shop owner, but it was too late.  

She took to the shotgun easily.  I made sure there was no one else around, before I emptied the chamber and the magazine.  I made her load the magazine but leave the chamber empty.  Then I told her to pretend someone unknown was at the door making a noise.

"Rack the shotgun raise it to your shoulder and fire it, then rack it again and wait."  I handed her the gun at that point.  "Now," I said.

She racked the gun, then she fired it at the target.  She racked the gun then waited still facing the threat.  In the case of that night the threat was the target.  There is another one, NOW."  She fired again, then racked the gun.

She seemed to know what to do.  Whether she could do it or not was quite another thing.

I cleaned the shotgun, then put it in the long, thin, very heavy, brown paper envelope provided by the gun store.  I carried it in my hands and a half dozen left over, number four turkey shot shells, loose in my pocket as we left the store.

"Now where?" she asked.

"Circuit city,"  I had done my homework on the net.  Circuit City had a wireless web cam that wasn't too expensive.  That purchase required only finding them on the shelf and Andrea handing over her credit card.  Andrea made it very clear at the gun shop, she paid her own way.

At home that night attaching the cameras outside her front and rear doors was easy enough.  Her computer was the receiver.  the concept was the same as the nanny cam.  She could check in from work as well as see who was at the door before answering it.  I set the cameras off to the side so that not only could she see the person at the door but also the door itself.  If she was at work and checked in before leaving, she might be able to see any damage to the doors.  Those things along with the gate security and the shotgun might give her a bit of an edge if Hector came visiting.  It might also prevent her from shooting her daughter.

Andrea had an alarm system but it had been a built in, when she bought the house.  The alarm was one of those builder's models.  All it did was set off a siren in the attic.  Every house in the area had one, but I didn't trust it from crap.  People got so used to hearing them that unless it screamed for more than a couple of minutes, no one paid the least attention.  Also they had been installed long enough that most all of them had dead backup batteries.  Kill the power before you went in and they would be as dead as the people inside.  I told her to use it anyway.  I had learned long ago to never underestimate the enemy but never to over estimate him either.  As my Jewish friends would say. "It couldn't hoit."

Her house was a good as I could make it on short notice. 

Andrea had been the perfect assistant while I hung and programmed her computer for the cameras.  She made coffee and handed me tools.  A man could not ask for more.  Of course if she had been a wife, she would have watched TV while I did it.  Then again if she had been my wife, I wouldn't have bothered with the cameras.

After the camera were working, and the shotgun had shells in the magazine but not the chamber, I sat down with a cup of coffee.  I was sitting on one end of the sofa when Andrea came in with her first aid kit.  

"Pull up your pant leg." she demanded.

"These jeans are a little tight for that.  I can do that later at home," I suggested.

"Drop you jeans," she demanded in an even stronger voice.

"The scrapes look alright Andrea," I suggested.

"Do it Michael.  I have seen men in their underwear before."

"Yes, but you haven't seen me in my underwear."

"Come on Mike do it and lets get this over with."

"What?"  I asked it not sure that we were thinking the same thing.

"I want to clean that cut and make sure it isn't getting infected."

"Oh," I replied.

"What did you think," she was all smiles.

"Nothing," I said trying to cover my stupidity.  I lowered my pants while she looked and touched the scrape just above my knee.  Her hands had the effect one might expect on a man who hadn't been with a woman in months.  I was embarrassed.

"Well that looks just fine," she said.  I was sure she meant the scrape.  She looked me in the eye when she spoke again.   "So now that you have me all wired up, and armed to the teeth, do you think you could sleep in a bed tonight?"

"I don't mind the coach.  I really do not want to sleep in Grace's bed and you don't have a guest room."

"You don't have to sleep in Grace's bed to sleep on a bed you know.  How much more obvious do I have to be."

I had a problem at that moment. My mind was a bit foggy but something she had said previously cut through me like a knife.  She had used 'we' when referring to retrieving her daughter.  I hoped it wasn't all part of roping me into that chore.  She was definitely inviting me to sleep with her, but at what cost.

"Andrea things are all crazy right now.  This is not a good time to get involved in a romance. I think you would regret it later."  She looked angry all of a sudden and left the room quickly.  I found the blanket in the hall linen closet and settled in for yet another night on the sofa.

When I awoke, it was to the sound of Andrea fixing breakfast.  I must have been exhausted because it was almost eight AM.  I went to her hall bathroom, used it for it's intended purpose, then brushed my teeth.  I could shower at home.  I was pretty sure that she was in a hurry to get to the store.  It would be open in a few minutes so Andrea was going to be late.

Since she was still in her night gown and robe I asked, "Are you going to be late?"

"No Sarah is going to open for me today."  She seemed to have forgiven me.  "Do you want bacon or sausage with your eggs."

"Sausage," I replied.  I moved to stand behind her at the stove.  I put my arms around her and added.  "Nothing sexier than a woman cooking."

"Give it up Mike, you missed your chance last night."

"Fair enough," I replied moving away.  Life is like that sometimes you eat the bear and sometimes the bear eats you, I thought.  At least she wouldn't be demanding me to bring her daughter back as payment for some sex act.

Breakfast was chilly and that was fine with me.  I preferred to make my decisions on my own terms anyway.  I think she left the robe open so I would know exactly what I had missed.  Whatever the reason it was distracting to say the least.  Andrea had a nice body for an almost middle aged woman.  Hell what am I talking about she was a kid compared to me.  I was an old fart who had turned down a much younger woman, I probably needed counseling more than Grace.

I had been home about two hours when the call came.  "Mike the is Andrea at the drugstore.  I need you to take another prescription to Mr. Thomas.  He can't drive."

"Sure,  I'll be down in a few minutes."  After all that had happened, I thought it was a pretty good guess that it was an ambush.  Since I was pretty sure there weren't too many almost sixty year old drug enforcers, it was also a pretty good guess I was going to be at a serious disadvantage.  Most likely in numbers as well, since I doubted Hector would take even the slightest risk by meeting me alone.  Without a doubt they would all be armed, and of course I wouldn't be.  My only weapon was Andrea's letting me know there was something wrong.  Thomas had hung himself the week before.  

It was a five minute trip to the drugstore, that was five after I got the bike started.  I got the bike started easily for a change, then rode to a point half a block from the drug store.  When I didn't see the Buick, I assumed that even a small time narco dealers had at least two cars on call.  I was within easy walking distance when I placed the call.  After I made my excited statement, I leisurely walked to the drug store.  I went directly to the drug counter where I was met by Andrea and two fairly young men.  

They were smiling like idiots, but she looked terrified.  Her eyes darted all over and she was visibly shaking.

"So, you have company this morning?"

"Yes," she managed to say before one of them pushed her aside.

"Shut up bitch, I'll do the talking."

"And you are?"

"I'm a friend of Grace.  I came to give you a message."

I heard the siren in the background.  "And what would that message be?"

"You need to move on.  You got no stake in this.  Hector owns the little one and now he owns this one too.  You need to keep moving while you still can."

Instead of the siren going on by as one would expect it stopped in front of the store.  Two sheriff's deputies burst in guns drawn.  I smiled.  "It looks like the Calvary has arrived."  The two enforcers looked pretty stupid with their mouth's hanging open.

"Officer, these two men came in demanding drugs.  They said they were armed."  I turned my attention to Andrea.  "Isn't that right?"

"Yes," she managed to croak.  If they indeed owned her she had just taken her life back.

The cops turned their attention to thugs one and two.  Sure as hell they had guns and even a bottle of pain killers from the pharmacy shelf.  I had no idea that they actually had the drugs.  It had just been a lie to get them searched.  I had just made two heroes and one big time enemy.  It looked as though the game was on whether I liked it or not.  

As the cops took them out in cuffs, the biggest one turned and said to me, "This ain't over."

"Oh you can count on it."  I whispered it under my breath.  I had no intention of going on record, since life was about to turn difficult for us all.

"He said they would kill Grace, if I called the police."  Andrea said.  She was a mess.  

"You didn't call them I did."  I had no idea that the semantics would make a difference to Hector, but Grace was of no use to him dead.  I thought a second and then asked, "What did he mean they owned you."

"They demanded that I give them drugs from the pharmacy.  I had no choice Mike."

"Is this the first time?"

She hung her head, "No, he called me the next day after she ran off.  He said they would kill her, if I didn't give them drugs."

"So all this time with me, you were supplying them with drugs and not telling me anything.  Why did you warn me today."

"I couldn't let them hurt you.  You were just trying to help.  They must have been following me."

"I don't think that is why they are so hot to have me leave town.  It has to be something more."

"Grace told them you are my new boyfriend.  I suppose that Hector is afraid that if I have a boyfriend I might stop going along,"

That could only make sense to a paranoid.  A drug dealer might be paranoid enough to believe I could convince her to turn against her daughter.  Well it was academic at that point.  We were most likely going to be in a shooting war soon.

"Where is your assistant who opened up?"

"They told me to send her home.  I did as they demanded."

"You need to call her and have her come in so you can go home."

"Will she be alright here?"

"They have no reason to go after her.  It's you they want."

"And you," she quickly added.

"They don't really want me.  That was just a bluff for you."  I knew better but I didn't want her to know that I did.

I waited with Andrea until her Assistant arrived at the store.  Once she understood the circumstances she had no problem taking over while Andrea returned to the safety of her home.  I followed her car with my bike.  Since I couldn't keep up, I just took the same route.  I arrived at the gated community five or so minutes after Angela passed through the gate.  I used my cell phone to call her house.  She answered on the second ring and assured me that she was fine.

A few minutes after she hung up I was allowed to enter.  I rode the bike down the palm lined main entrance then past the community pool.  When I arrived at Andrea's house, I found her sitting at the small, round kitchen table.  She was totally dejected.  "What have I done to deserve this?"

"I have no idea.  You may or may not have done anything but that isn't our first concern now.  Our first concern is to see that this ends the way it should."  There was no sense in not sharing my plan with Andrea, she was going to at least suspect what had happened after the fact anyway. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I need to eliminate the threat to me.  In the process I hope we can bring Grace home."

"Can't we just grab her and run away?"

"Is that what you really want.  To give up everything and start over somewhere else.  You know Grace will just make her way back to this clown, if we force her to come with us.  The first step in her cure is to have her come home willingly because she has nowhere else to go."

"I don't see that happening.  The prick Hector can use her to score drugs from me."

"He had to know there was only so much you could or would do.  After you were totally broke, the well would run dry anyway.  The drugs were just a bonus for him.  He may or may not find other uses for Grace.  You have to face it, he may have already."  I paused to look at her.

"What are you saying Mike?"  

"I'm not saying anything specific.  I'm trying to define the situation.  We need for something to happen that will cause the situation to change dramatically."

"So what is going to change?"  She was way too curious all of a sudden.  Something told me not to trust a woman whose daughter was in danger.  Her first concern would always be her daughter.

"I don't have any idea.  You need to report your daughter missing now and tell the cops the whole thing."

"I can't do that.  He said he would kill her if the police came around."

"Okay, well then good luck,"  I said it as I stood and walked to the door.  She didn't try to stop me.  She had obviously made her choice.

Back home, I found the priority mail package from the Ebay seller.  I took it into the house and thought, it couldn't have arrived at a better time.  I didn't even open the package.  I tied it to the luggage rack of the bike, before I rode to a field outside of town.  I parked the bike about thirty five feet from a stand of trees.

I figured the distance was about the same as from the vacant lot to Hector's garage.  Yes I had driven by his little frame house at the end of a dead end road.  I spend about an hour practicing with the 150# draw crossbow.  The crossbow as designed for deer hunting so I wasn't all that confident when I ordered it.  The crossbow was a pleasant surprise.  it was accurate within three or four inches.  More than enough for a heart shot.

Thirty five yards in the dead of night, for a man with failing eyes, would be too much to ask of myself.  It would have to be in the daylight which was a bad, bad idea, but I had no other.  I returned home with the crossbow again in pieces and in the plain shipping box.

I made a few deliveries after my test of the crossbow.  I planned for things to look just as normal as possible.  I worked on the ebike to make sure it was fully charged.  I even rigged both my set of batteries up in a parallel configuration to give me even more distance on the ebike.

It was well after nine when the sun finally began to fade.  When I left the house, I rode the ebike and pulled the battery trailer behind.  It was almost six miles from my room over the garage, to the empty lot across from Hector's house.  That empty lot went all the way through to the next street over.  The next block over also was also on a dead end road.

It was dead dark and not a sign of life when I pulled the ebike just off the road.  It would not be visible to any casual observer.  I took the cross bow with me as I slipped quietly through the underbrush.  The first step in my operation had already been taken.  I took step one even before I left the house.  I called the old friend with the Emerson, since I didn't have one.  She agreed to call the FBI, DEA,  ATF, and any other three initials she could think of, the next day.  Her Emerson phone would ring once the next day when it was time.

I settled in across the street from Hector's house for a long wait.  There were people coming and going all night.  I never saw Grace, but I did see Hector Rameriz.  He came in and out of the house several times.  I guessed that he had his panties in a wad because his muscle was in jail.  I kept an eye out for them but they didn't show all night.  It was at least eight AM before Hector came out the next morning.  He came out to greet the black buick with three men inside.  Two of them I recognized from the drugstore.

God does sometimes smile on me.  The first shot was the easiest.  I put a bolt into Hector's chest.  It was a clean shot and I knew that it was buried deep.  I even had time to put one in the biggest of the thugs.  Him I took a chance with and put the bolt into his eye.  

A man, in deep cover, firing a silent weapon with no smoke can afford to hang around to see if his first victim moved.  Hector was very still on the ground.  If he wasn't dead he was damn close.  One of the other two thugs tried to break for the house.  I had expected it so I put one midway in his torso.  At that point I crawled backward from my cover and slipped to the bike.  I broke down the bow before I left the woods.  I rode the bike past a canal.  It was past what little rush hour there is in a small town so no one was around when I tossed the bow into the almost ink black water.  I saved the box to put into a country dumpster a few miles from my house.  The bike was more or less crawling when I rode it into the landlords drive.

I cleaned up and then rode the gas bike to breakfast.  I made a point of following my routine for the rest of the day.

"Grace is in jail," it was Andrea's voice on my cell phone.

"What happened?"  I asked it just as I would if I had known nothing.

"Somebody killed Hector and one of his bodyguards.  While they were investigating the shooting, some federal agents swept in and took her away.  I have no idea why they did it that but she is still in custody."

"Well she was in a drug house, I expect they want to know whatever she knows."

"Yes I was there when they questioned her.  Mike it's really ugly what she has been doing."

"Well do what you can for her.  Get her a good lawyer and stand by her, not much else you can do at this point."

"So old Hector got shot huh, probably some drug dealer he pissed off."

"I don't know they said he was shot with a bow and arrow."

"Now that really is strange.  Must have been some good old red neck deer hunter he pissed off."  I said it as the conversation wound own then ended.

The knock on my door that I expected didn't come.  The next day the old man reminded me that I needed to find a new home.  I explained that I had more or less furnished the room and was comfortable, but he would have none of it.  In the end I sold him everything for two hundred bucks, then packed the bike and left.

So I'm back on the road again, but I'm not going too far this time.

.