Monday, January 31, 2011

Flatheads, Crescent Wrench's and Pliers (Part 6)

“C’mon in guys, we’ve been waiting for you.” A voice from the darkened garage beckoned to us. We were all “sun-blind”. You know, when your pupils are dilated from being outside and then you go inside a building that’s dark and you can’t see shit. We walked into what had become party central of Memory Avenue. A place where all the teenagers smoked, drank, made out and listened to Led Zepplin, Molly Hatchet, AC/DC, Black Sabbath and Aerosmith. I had been in the garage on various occasions over the past couple years and I knew the record collection was quite massive.

“So, did you bring the magazines?” a familiar voice asked. It was Mike; He’d been in and out of my sister’s life for a couple years. Dating, fighting, dating… I never really understood their relationship and still don’t to this day.

Fin, Fish and I made our way in to where the three teenagers were sitting around a beat up, old folding table. As my eyes adjusted to the light I noticed that Mike was sitting to the left of Dennis and Glenn was sitting to the right of Dennis. Typical, I thought. Dennis was always getting Mike and Glenn to do his dirty deeds for him and it seemed he was the one that was going to run the show for today as well.

“Yeah, we got them. I told you we’d bring them.” Fin answered as he stepped forward with the box of porn in his arms.

“Well, well, I’m glad to see the Punk was true to his word and he brought the Greaser and the Shooter with him as promised.” Glenn spat.

“Can it Glenn.” Dennis said and quickly hit him in the back of the head.

“Ouch, shit man! You didn’t have to hit me.” Glenn complained.

Fish, Fin and I stood in front of our teen counterparts not really saying anything. I was in the middle, Fin to my right and Fish to my left. My BB gun was in my right hand, Fin held the box and Fish was digging around in his pockets trying to get a smoke out. The song on the radio ended and a station break commenced “YOU’RE LISTENING TO WIXX 101.1 ON YOUR FM DIAL! THE ROCK ON THE SHORE OF GREEN BAY!”

“Shit, can someone turn the volume down? I hate commercials.” Dennis said, Mike stood up and walked over to the Hi-Fi on the workbench and turned the volume down. He then started picking through the albums on the shelf above his head.

“So, let’s see what you delinquents have?” Dennis said as he tapped the table.

Fin stepped up and set the box in front of Dennis. Glenn reached forward and pulled out a couple of the magazines and started to flip through them. Dennis grabbed one, set it on the table and opened it up to the centerfold. Mike was busy getting Led Zepplin’s “Houses of the Holy” onto the record player and soon the song “Dancing Days” started blasting out of the speakers.

“This SONG ROCKS!” Mike exclaimed over the din of music as he came back over to the table and took a magazine from Glenn, sat down and started flipping through it casually.

“Dennis, you guys got the money?” I asked.

“Relax Skip. We got the money; we just want to make sure these are what Finnegan said they were.”

“C’mon, you know we aint gonna to pull any shit. That’d be pretty damn dumb.” Fish chimed in.

“How much you want for them?” Dennis asked.

“15 bucks.” I said.

“We got 10. Take it or leave it.”

“Fuck this. You guys are trying to rip us off!” Fin complained.

“Shut up Fin.” Fish said “We’ll take it.”

“10 is good.” I said.

“Mike, pay these fine young businessmen.” Dennis ordered.

Mike stood up, pulled a wad of crumbled up bills out of his pockets and set it on the table. “Don’t spend it all in one spot boys.” He commented.

“Let’s go.” Fish said and he started towards the door. Fin followed. I picked up the cash and started towards the door.

“Hold on Shooter.” I heard Dennis say behind me.

I halted, turned and looked at the three of them sitting at the table. Mike’s feet were propped up on one edge, Glenn was digging through the box for more magazines and Dennis was standing now.

“Let’s go Skip.” Fish called to me as he opened the door. “We got to get up to the hardware store.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there Fish.” I said over my shoulder and waved him on with my left hand. “What do you want Dennis?”

“Why are you hanging out with the Greaser and the Punk? You’re more than welcome to hang with us anytime. Hell, everyone knows you’re the smart one of that group. Finnegan is a punk and is always causing fights. Minnow is always playing with tools and shit. You though, you seem to just take it all in and avoid as much trouble as you can. And, the girls like you. Hell, you could do a lot worse than hanging here with us.”

“I don’t turn my back on my friends. No matter what. And Fish and Fin always got my back.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard that Musketeer bullshit before. Well, if you ever change your mind, you can always welcome here.”

“Thanks Dennis.” I said and headed toward the sun drenched doorway.

Once I stepped out of the garage I see that Fish and Fin are waiting for me. “C’mon guys, let’s get to the hardware store.” I say to them.

“Sure man. Hey, what did they want you for?” Fin asked.

“Yeah, Skip. What’s up?” Fish echoed.

“Ah, it’s nothing. They just wanted to know who peppered up my face. They thought it was the assholes at the dead end. I told them I wiped out riding Fish’s bike.” I lied.

“Yeah, like they would do something to those guys. Hell, no one goes to the dead end without coming back with some bruises.” Fish complained.

“What’s up with those guys?” Fish asked.

So for the rest of our walk up to the hardware store Fin and I filled Fish in on all the crap that happens at the end of our street. We explained how a group of six teenage boys, who all lived at the end of our street by the East River, would charge you a “toll” to go fishing, canoeing or swimming. And if you crossed East River Drive you’d better have money or you’d get your ass whipped. I then explained how we now went over one block to Karl Street to gain access to the river.

Our conversation lasted us all the way to the hardware store up on Webster. “You guys are right, they are assholes.” Fish said and then added “You know what color you want to paint the bike.”

“Blue, metallic blue.”

Friday, January 28, 2011

We interrupt this broadcast...

Sorry folks, I was suppose to have the current tale of youthful mishap and mayhem ready for you by now. But due to those two wonderful words "Viral Influenza" I was unable to post last weeks episode and so I'm trying to merge it with next weeks edition as well.

No, you don't say. You really want to hear about my hospital stay and how I missed the NFC Championship game and how important it was to me since I'm not just a Green Bay Packers Fan but I'm also one of the teams over 35,000 owners. Well, ok, I'll give it a shot.

Here's the short of it...

5:18 PM Friday evening: arrived home, grumbled at daughter who was on couch watching television. Went upstairs and went to bed.

5:24 PM Friday evening: last conscious thought was "I feel like crap."

5:20 AM Saturday morning: alarm wakes me up, body feels like it's been used as a pinata at the Marine Corps birthday party, shower does little to alleviate pain. Getting dressed in dark I realize I just may not be able to walk down the steps.

6:00 AM Saturday morning: wife takes my temperature, informs me and the world it is 99.8 degrees and I can't work. I make feeble attempts to the contrary. I fail.

8:00 AM Saturday morning: phone calls made to work, the black veil of sleep descends on me like a pride of lions on a downed gazelle in the Serengetti.

5:44 PM Saturday evening: manage to move my bone bag from second floor bed to first floor couch snagging 2 popsicles, 3 excedrin and a glass of water on the way. I RULE!

6:15 PM Saturday evening: I realize the movies in my head are better than the ones on television and succumb to them.

9:35 PM Saturday night: attempt to move flesh covered pain up to bed took 10 minutes. More popsicles, pain killers and sleep.

6:00 AM Sunday morning: pain is a bitch of an alarm clock, sweat does not mean I've showered and popsicles are getting old quick. These are all conclusions I quickly make as I eat more pain killers. I seem to have gotten a faulty bottle of pain killers because they're not working.

6:01 AM Sunday morning: Prayer to God "Please kill me and stop torturing me. I live at $()# LSKGJ ERO VOKIERO. Your faithful servant Skip."

12:16 PM Sunday afternoon: Prayer didn't work, Still alive. On couch. Packers on tv in 3 hours. I hate popsicles. Pain killers bottle is empty which is good cause they didn't work anyway. Head still hurts, body hurts. but Packers coming on TV!

1:00 PM Sunday afternoon: I forsee a hospital trip in my near future cause theres a guy on my porch swing in a black cloak.

1:45 PM Sunday afternoon: at hospital, can't open eyes, machines going BOOP and BEEP, some guy put stickers on me, getting poked, swallowing pills, bodily fluids forcibly removed from body. That'll teach my body to piss off the doctors!

2:15 PM Sunday afternoon: still in pain, more BOOPS and BEEPS, one machine insists I'm dead, more bodily fluids stolen from me at needle point, more pills, some guy fills me full of something he calls X-rays, eyes refuse to open.

5:20 PM Sunday afternoon: I learn my Nurse's nickname is Grace, it's a nickname given in irony, but in her defense she injects me with a beautiful liquid known as Dilaudid, it raced through my system obliterating every ache, pain and hangnail on my body. By the time it reaches my forehead its stronger than the entire Picatiny Armory during WWII. My 3 day old migraine doesn't stand a chance. I can finally open my eyes in the blacked out room.

6:45 PM Sunday evening: released from hospital, go home. Packers are in Super Bowl. Doctor's note says no work til Thursday.
11:00 PM Sunday night: Pray to God "Please don't. Your faithful servant Skip."

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Flatheads, Crescent Wrench's and Pliers (Part 5)

I said my goodbyes to the guys and headed out of the garage. As I approached the edge of the driveway Fin called out to me to wait, and I did. He ran up to me and told me he needed to head home as well. The sun was heading quickly towards the East River as we headed south on Libel Street. The shadows of the trees and buildings offered us their cool respites from the warmth of the day, and sending chills down my spine.

“I really think your idea sucks, Skip.” Fin complained.

“Look Fin, I understand you don’t like the idea, but do you see any other way to get up the money? You got a piggy bank we can raid? Or, do you have any other idea that could help us?”

“No man. But… but… Finders Keepers rules. Man, I found the Playboys so technically they’re mine. Not yours. Not Fish’s. I should say what happens to them. And for you to presume you guys can just sell them to anyone who wants them really sucks!”

“Fin, stop freaking out. Look, we haven’t decided to sell them. And if you had wanted to keep them for yourself you wouldn’t have told us. Besides, we always share with each other. All for one! Remember? Isn’t that what we agreed to when we read the Musketeers book? That we’d keep to those rules?”

“I haven’t even looked at all of them. You know? There might be something in there I want to keep.”

“Ok, how ‘bout this, we all get together tomorrow afternoon, go through the magazines, keep a couple for ourselves and then sell the rest? I’m sure Fish will be cool with the idea and we all have our own magazines.”

“What if I want one your or Fish want?”

“Simple, you found them, you get first pick. I’ll take last pick since we are building the bike for me.”

“Ok, I can live with that. Say, how’d you get so smart with this sort of stuff?”

“Try living with two older sisters and one younger sister and have to fight for who goes first on getting new school clothes or shoes. You learn real fast how to make the best out of all situations.”

As we approached Memory Avenue we saw some of the neighborhood kids riding bikes, throwing footballs and skipping rope. The Sandoval kids had a game of tag going on in the front yard with the Ellison kids. The Jamrogs and Montifels were apparently having a cookout that filled the block with the mouth watering scent of hamburgers, steaks and hot dogs. You could also hear the sound of the Pop-Top beers and sodas up and down the block crackling like rifle fire during hunting season.

The twins, Dennis and Glenn Jamrog, were showing Mike Montifel their new skateboards and how they could jump off the curb with them. I smiled and waved at them, knowing that soon, all three of them and me and my crew would be in the Jamrog’s basement making a deal for the magazines. They were older, always had money and rarely had adult supervision. We just had to come up with a way to get them alone to talk to them.

I knew for a fact, Mike, Dennis and Glenn all received allowances from their parents and I made this morsel of information known to Fin. He said he would try to talk with the older kids after dinner. I told him to stop by and get me when he was ready.

Fin didn’t stop by, I guess he forgot or he had other shit to do around the house that night. I’m glad he didn’t show up because it was a bad night for me at my house. So bad that I’m not gonna go into details right now. Instead, I’m gonna move on with the story.

Sunday morning, around 10 am, I snuck out of my bedroom window, leaving behind a note to my mom stating I’d be home later in the day. I added that I would be ok, don’t worry about me and that I’d stay out of trouble. Once again, I took my BB gun and the tools Fish had given me, I also had managed to pilfer 5 bucks from my sister Vera’s wallet and as I did so I made a silent promise to pay her back one day. (I still owe her those 5 bucks too.)

I snuck into Fin’s house through an open basement window, now; all three of us had promised each other that we’d always leave a safe way into each other’s houses just in case we needed a sanctuary away from the madness in our particular families’ worlds. Fin kept a basement window unlocked; I kept my bedroom window unlocked and Fish kept the back door to his garage unlocked. All three of us had utilized those safety points at various times in our brief friendship and never once did any of us ask questions as to why the others had to use them.

Once inside Fin’s darkened basement I made my way over to the lawn chairs him and his mother kept down there and sat down. We, Fish, Fin and I, had made a make-shift lounge there. Chairs, a used end table and for a coffee table we had hi-jacked an old wooden cable spool from a construction site that we used as a coffee table. I opened the drawer to the end table and found a pack of smokes we kept there and lit one of the sticks up. The acrid, blue smoke quickly filled the room as I sat in the darkness thinking about whether I wanted to ever go home and if my home was a place I wanted to stay.

It wasn’t long before Fin came downstairs and discovered me sitting alone in the dark. His footfalls on the wooden steps echoed through the room like the bass notes of a Pink Floyd song. “I thought I heard you sneak in.” he said as he reached in the drawer for a smoke. “I was getting ready to come over and get you.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not home.” I joked.

“Good, you saved me the trip over. Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

“No reason. Just didn’t feel like turning on the light. Besides, I think better when it’s dark. What happened to you last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were supposed to come get me after you talked to the teenagers.”

“Oh man! I forgot. Sorry. I did talk to Mike, Dennis and Glenn. They’re interested but they want to see the magazines first.”

“Ok, we can do that.”

“Yup, I called Fish and he went and got the box this morning and took it to his house. All we need to do is go get them and bring them over to the Jamrog’s garage. After we go through them first.”

“Ok, let’s get going. Um, but can we jump your fence and cut up Karl street? I’m in no mood to deal with my family.”

“Sure man, no problem. Let me get my shoes on and we’ll head out.”

A few moments later we had snuck out Fin’s back door, scurried behind his garage and hopped the fence into the backyard of the neighbor’s house. We snuck between some houses and headed up Karl Street towards Libel.

It was a beautiful day, the birds fluttered from limb to limb looking for the perfect place to make their nests. Bees busied themselves in the multitude of flower beds that had just come into bloom. Dogs throughout the neighborhood barked at imaginary noises and cats stalked the birds from the bushes.

But in all honesty, I didn’t even try to enjoy the half mile trek to Fish’s. I was on a mission to get as far away from Memory Avenue as possible. “Skip!, man, hold up!” Fin called to me. “You don’t have to run. Shit, Fish’ll be there when we get there.”

I stopped, and turned toward Fin, we were standing at the corner of Libel and Brookridge. Cars were driving by on their way home from church filled with familie’s dressed in their Sunday’s Finest clothes. Housewives in fancy hats, factory workers in ties, kids in suits and fancy dresses, each and every one of them completely oblivious as to the shit one person can heap onto another.

“Fuck Man! What the hell happened to your face?”

“Nothing man. Just leave it alone.”

“Was it that prick again?”

“Yeah, forget about it. Let’s get to Fish’s house.

For once, in quite a very long time, Fin actually listened to my request and shut up. We hurried to Meadow Lane to Fish’s house and met up with Fish in his basement. Fish was sitting on the old couch his parents kept down there for us kids to us. At his feet was the box of Playboys and scattered on the couch and floor were a dozen of the musty smelling, glossy pages of carnal pleasure.

“What the hell happened to you?” Fish asked me.

“Leave it alone.” Fin quipped in defense of me.

“Was it the asshole again?” Fish inquired.

“Skip didn’t say, but I can only assume it was.”

I slid some of the magazines out of the way in order to make a place for myself to sit on the couch. “You gotta smoke on ya Fish?” I asked. He nodded and pulled a pack out and handed Fin and I one. We all lit up, Fin sat down and started flipping through the pages of one of the many magazines. I tried to look interested and picked one up. But instead of seeing naked women in their entire erotic splendor all I saw were cigarette ads, car ads, and whiskey ads that all promised a better life and all you needed was a metric ton of money.

I heard Fin and Fish talking but I couldn’t or wouldn’t listen to them. All their words seemed to buzz in my ears like a million bees swarming down upon a field of wild daisies. The only thought on my mind was how long it would take me to either get out of my house or get my revenge on the prick that routinely got his jollies out of kicking my ass.

I looked over at Fin, he was sorting the magazines into two piles, a keep pile and a sell pile. His keep pile was much larger than his sell pile. His eyes were wide, there was sweat on his forehead and he was squirming as if there were no way possible for him to get comfortable. I started to chuckle to myself, and slowly cast my gaze over to Fish, his smoke was dangling from his mouth, several magazines were on his lap, and they were closed. “Hey Fin, how many of these things you gonna keep?” he asked.

“Man, I want ‘em all!” He cried out.

I started laughing, I couldn’t help it. He looked like he was about to explode in joy. “Fin, man, you gotta relax. You can’t keep them all.” I said between hitched breaths.

“Why not? We can keep most of ‘em. Right?”

“Where are we gonna keep these things?” Fish asked. “We can’t keep them here, or at the fort, they’ll get ruined during the rain and snow storms. Hell, I’m only keeping two because I can easily hide them in my room. Where are you gonna hide yours?”

“I don’t know yet.” Was Fish’s response “What about you Skip?” he asked me, invading my momentary happiness.

“Probably in my rafters in the garage, you know, where we started to build that fort but never finished. I figure I can hide one there.”

“Only one? Really? C’mon man, you all these to chose from and you only want one? Which one?” Fin questioned.

“Barbi Benton.” I said. Both Fin and Fish stopped moving and stared at me. Fish was smiling and Fin’s mouth just hung open in disbelief.

“Is that one in this pile?” Fin eagerly asked. “Where? I haven’t seen it. You holding out on me?” he was frantically pushing away the stack of magazines he’d already looked through, and reaching into the box pulling out more of the purloined pornography.

Fish started laughing, “Man, calm down. It’s not in the box.” He was pointing at my lap. I looked down at the magazine sitting between my jean clad legs. There she was, the March 1970 issue of Playboy, Barbi stared up at me in that glorious red shirt, her eyes gleaming of innocence and hope, the white gloves in the shape of a bunny rabbit, and a million dollar smile that gives me shivers down my spine to this day. That one cover made that last 14 hours of hell disappear with that one little glance. Yup, I thought, this is the one for me.

“No Fair!” screamed Fin. “I wanted that one!”

“Fin, you have about ten of them right now. At this rate you’re not going to want to sell any of them.” Fish said.

“Fin, it’s the only one I want. I don’t care what you keep, this is the one I want.”

“Ah, hell, ok.” He gave in. “What about you Fish?”

“I picked out three I want. You can go through them if you want, it doesn’t really matter too much to me.”

“Nah, it’s ok. Take what you want.”

And, with that, we boxed up all the unwanted magazines, threw a towel over them and headed back towards the Jamrog’s garage on Memory. We cut through the new housing construction, each of us taking turns carrying the box when it got too heavy.

When we got the back of the garage, I poked my head around to the side and saw the backyard was empty, I nodded to Fish and Fin, gave them a quick nod and ducked around the corner. They followed and caught up with me at the side door. We were nervous, tired, sweating and more than a bit scarred that we were going to get our asses kicked and our treasure stolen.

I knocked on the door, turned the knob and all three of us stepped into the smoke filled garage.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Flatheads, Crescent Wrench's and Pliers (Part 4)

Happy New Year!

Let's pick up where we left off

“You found WHAT?” Fish and I said at the same time.

Fin just sat there, grinning at us. He pulled a bent Marlboro out of his pocket, lit it, and exhaled the smoke through his nose. He knew our complete and undivided attention. He leaned back, took another drag of his cigarette, put his right foot on his left knee and leaned back.

“I’m really not too sure where it was.” He said, grinning, knowing he had us right in the palm of his hand. He knew we would do just about anything at that moment just to find that golden box of purloined sexual promise that would reveal to us the secrets of women across the world. Forbidden knowledge, that once learned would tell us how to talk to girls without making complete fools of ourselves. Knowledge on how to properly kiss a girl, hold a girl, and most importantly SCORE with a girl.

We were young, ignorant and knew nothing of how to have a relationship with the opposite sex. Well, that’s not really true, after all, we had all watched Gilligans’ Island and Happy Days, and The Love Boat so we knew what NOT to do. But still, it’s a long way from the glory of cathode ray tubes to physical touching of a girl. And, I believe that we all knew you did not want to try and emulate what Ritchie, Potsie, Ralph Malph or even The Fonz did to pick up girls, not to mention the insane shenanigans of Gilligan and the Skipper. (Personally, I think the Professor scored with everyone on the island.)And as far as the Love Boat was concerned, Isaac was the Man! But we all knew none of us were cool enough to pull off what Isaac pulled off.

Fish and I started to plead our cases to Fin, and Fin just sat there staring at us. His grin getting wider and wider on his face until he could no longer contain his laughter, he let out a huge belly laugh. “You guys should see yourselves!” he said gasping for breath.”You’re acting as if you’ve never seen a nude girl!” and with that he fell of his make-shift chair and we all busted out laughing.

Once we all regained our composure and Fin decided to stop giving us a hard time about finding out where the latest and greatest stash of porn was, we headed out to retrieve it. Each of us, in our own minds, were certain we would discover something we never knew before, and what we discovered would lead us to fame, fortune and popularity. All thoughts of the bike were gone.

Fin lead us right to a mountain of trash made up of old pallets, boxes, wooden planks, crushed cans, shopping carts and scrap metal. “This is where I found the bike frames.” He mentioned as he walked by the towering rubbish heap. “And this is where I stashed the box of Playboys!” He announced with a flourish of his hands and he reached out, grabbed an old car door and pushed it aside.

There it sat, in a dried up mud-hole, the box filled with promise. It wasn’t a large box; actually it was an old milk box with the inserts pulled out and the magazines just tossed inside so carelessly that some of them had been torn apart. But to us? It was GOLD! PURE, RAW, UNCLAMINED GOLD! And it was OURS!

We wasted no time getting the box back to the fort, our discussion was minimal at best and centered on where to hide our purloined treasure. Fin wanted to bring it home and keep it in his basement, Fish wanted to keep the magazines at the fort and I didn’t care as long as they were safe and accessible to all of us. I eventually voted with Fish, which pissed Fin off to no end. Until I explained to him that it would look awfully suspicious if the three of us came walking down Memory Ave with a milk crate full of Playboys. He agreed and we dug out a place in the piles of other treasures we had in the fort.

We spent the next hour paging eagerly through those magazines, none of us really learning anything about what women wanted. But, we learned a lot about what we liked. I learned that Barbi Benton was my new favorite actress! I can’t speak for Finn or for Fish who they favored but I do know that Fish had a poster of Farrah Fawcet in his bedroom and Fin had posters of athletes.

The sun was heading west in a hurry and we all knew it was getting late so we gathered up the bike parts, and tools and headed towards Fish’s house. Halfway there our talk turned to the bike, away from girls and Playboys, and there seemed to be a sense of relaxation in the air. Something that had disappeared earlier in the day, when it happened none of us had known, but now, it was back and we were laughing and having a good time.

By the time we got we got to Fish’s house we were all wound up over the project. Fish had given us our jobs. Fin and I were going to start disassembly of the frames, Fish was going to see what parts matched the primed frame and get the chain into a can of oil. Fin and I attacked our tasks with youthful vigor. Fin and I had been tearing apart the frames for about 30 minutes before we realized that Fish had disappeared. I stopped pulling the forks out of the frame I was working on and looked at Fin, “You seen Fish lately?”

Fin looked up at me, his face, arms and hands covered in grease, rust and grime, “Man, he was here just a minute ago. Maybe he went and took a piss, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah, well, I need to get home soon. I haven’t seen anyone in my family since Friday morning and I’m sure they’re wondering where I am.”

“Didn’t you leave a note last night?”

“I did, but I’m sure one of my sisters has been by your house looking for me.”

“Sure, man. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Shut up Fin. Just cause you don’t have any brothers or sisters to come look for you doesn’t mean my sisters wont.”

“Hey! What are you guys talking about?” Fish’s voice from behind us questioned.

“Nothin’ really, It’s just I need to get going home soon.” I replied and turned towards him. He was approaching with a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a jar of jelly and he had a knife and spoon sticking out of his front pocket.

“I brought some food, let’s eat first then you can head home.” Fish suggested and Fin nodded in agreement.

And that’s what we did. We sat in the middle of the garage floor, covered in rust, grime and a days worth of stench from an illegal junk yard. We talked about ways to get some money for paint, the color of the paint and whether or not half the stuff we found that day would help get the bike going. So far, in Fin’s eyes, we didn’t have a chance to finish. I was a bit more optimistic, but not much. Fish said he knew we’d finish and that it was just a matter of getting all the parts together, like a puzzle.

When we finished our sandwiches, which had put a hurting on the loaf of bread, and Fin went inside and brought back some sodas while Fish and I separated the usable bike parts from the scrap parts. We got everything cleaned up and as I prepared to leave I made a simple suggestion to make some money. Fish liked the idea but Fin was a bit more reluctant.