Photo by RP Thomas
Starting the Bus
The Chevrolet kicked up dust
as Big Mike pulled up in front of
the house on Colver Road near Talent.
A few chips of caked rust fell
from
the trunk as Mike pulled the
cables out
of his toolbox. Where’s Tex? he grumbled.
Tex had to leave, Lizzie said,
something
had happened at the tavern; a
fridge broke
down and Sam, that clown,
couldn’t fix it.
I know Sam, Big Mike offered, and
he can be
kind of dumb, but you don’t ever
want to
sit with him at poker. Lizzie blushed and
Picked up a brush that lay beside
Mike’s
hammer; his head spun and he
wanted to run
when Lizzie moved too close for
comfort.
Soon nature took over and the sun
shone bright.
Turning a wrench left with all
his might, Mike
realized he’d best turn it right—small
wonder.
Big Mike’s head felt light when
the Harvester
started to hum. Because a mechanic was Mike,
and not a bum—he adjusted the carburetor.
Leaving the Chevy with Lizzie, he
drove away fast.
What in the hell had happened just
then? Big
Mike wondered, speeding safely
away at last.
TS
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