Sylvia 81

Sylvia 81

“I don’t want something so complicated I can’t disconnect it to get it  home,  cause I know damn well it’s gonna’ break.” I said with a good natured smile.

“I’ll be straight up with  you, I built this motor kit, and I’m hoping to sell them on the Internet.  The motor I got at a reasonable price by buying ten of them.  I bought then from a factory that makes generators.  Actually they import them and attach them to the generator they make here in this country.  The motor is assembled in Mexico from parts manufactured in China I think.  So yeah it’s a throw away.  The good news is I can get replacements easily.  Everything bolts to the motor so it can all be reused on another motor.  The throttle is a shifter off old bikes  The kill switch is a simple on off switch from the hardware store.  All the other controls are part of the motor itself.  Oh yeah the drive wheel is welded to the sleeve used to attach the motor to the generator and then just bolted onto the motor.  It is the simplest of all motor drives.

“How does it start?  I don’t plan to stand there pulling my guts out on a rope start,“ I said.

“Prime it, set the choke and pedal the bike with it on the wheel or drop in on the wheel, either way when the motor turns over it fires, then you lift it to turn off the choke and lower it slowly to start it running again.” he said.

“How long will it take you to put this together, so that I can try it out?” I asked.

“Well I want to go through the Workman clean and grease it.  Then I have to assemble the kit, which it a no brainer, since it is designed for you basic retard to use, no offense.” he said.

“None taken,” I said,  “So when and how much?”

“Tomorrow at five, it will be ready to go.  I’ll give you a thirty day guarantee,” he said.

“That’s all well and good but how much?” I asked.

“Two hundred for the trike, the kit is going to retail for one fifty, and fifty for assembling it.  So call it four hundred,” he said.

“I would like calling it three hundred better,” I said with a smile.

“I’ll bet you would.  Tell you what just to stop the haggling, I hate haggling by the way, I’ll do the assembly free and have it ready at five tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

“Now here is the deal.  I’ll buy it, if it will start easily, and runs around town.  Otherwise you are going to do this work for nothing,” I said.

“Fair enough,” we said and we shook hands.

“You know where to find me if anything comes up, otherwise I will be here at five tomorrow.” I said,

Those were my last words to him.  I left the bike shop and went in search of an ATM.  I had a hundred dollars in cash, but that was all.  The rest of my money was directly deposited into an account in my new name.  Oh I had ten grand in cash that no one knew about.  It was in my bugout bag.  Anyone in my situation without a bugout bag was an idiot.  I had a clean pair of jeans, a shirt, some underwear, two fake driver’s license.  No one knew about and ten grand or the fake IDs  All of it had been purchased and hidden away while I drove for the Greens.  I knew that the day might come, when I needed to hide from everyone.  If that or this identity went foul, I was going to be able to survive a while till I worked out my next move.  That was just the reality of fake identities.  The more the merrier.

I needed to get into the direct deposit money for the trike purchase, since I wanted the bosses to know about it.  Show them a normal life, right up till the minute I disappeared, if it became necessary.

I went to the grocery section of the WalMart store in Blane.  It was even farther from the ranger station but it was the closest real town.  I would never have believed I would live in a place that was forty five miles from a Walmart.

I spent almost a hundred bucks on canned and frozen stuff, then I hit the cash back for another hundred.  Before I left the store I went to their third party bank ATM and  hit if for three hundred more.  What the hell I had the money in the bank and I would need it eventually anyway.

With the cab of the truck filled with tied grocery bags, I headed back to the compound.  I drove past New Holt and it was after 5PM.  I could have gotten dinner but I chose to go on home and heat a frozen dinner instead.

Hugo’s blazer was gone when I arrived home at 5:30 PM.  I wasn’t surprised the ex-wife seemed to still like the physical relationship she had with Hugo.  I don’t think she wanted any emotional relationship,  I’m pretty sure that is what she was telling me in our little talk.  I really saw Hugo as a father figure, but in a good way not in the kind of father I remembered.

So I went inside the camper and put my groceries away.  That was a job I didn’t like, but it didn’t take long at all.  Once I had that done, I turned on the TV and ran down the Satellite TV schedule.  All those channels and nothing I wanted to watch, what a joke full access TV was.

I went to the Internet to be entertained.  At least there I could Interact with almost real people.  Plus there was a ton of porn available there, porn had no intrinsic entertainment value, but it did pass the time.  Hell I could even watch myself if I wanted to check out Mary Ellen’s site.  I was a lifetime member of the site, so I could watch whatever she was showing or selling.

Sunday morning I woke early for no good reason.  I had two errands to run.  One was to pick up the bike at five and the other was to collect my bug out bag.  I had it stored in a locker at one of those ups retail stores.  It was located in a town near Green’s vineyard.

I figured I could breeze into town on this Sunday morning around church time.  I would be driving a game warden’s truck,  Nothing would connect to my last identity.  So I left at nine for the town with the ups store.

I drove the three hours there and stayed just long enough to go into the shopping center based UPS store.  In my extra large box I found the black gym bag I had left months before.  I waited until I got to the truck to open the bag.  The clothes and the money were there.  I forgot that I had the black hawk case knife in the bag.  I had bought it at Walmart and it went right into the bag.  I never had it out of the case, except to check it once, then it went into the bag.

Three hours later I pulled into the sandy parking lot.  I had eaten a pack of peanut butter crackers and a diet coke so far that Sunday.  I had to find a place to hide the gym bag.  Somewhere like the UPS store, something accessible 24hours a day and seven days a week.  Somewhere I could slip into without having to worry about it being staked out.  Just like I had today in and out no sweat.

It couldn’t be in the camping trailer, nor the office, nor anywhere in the compound, so where did that leave me.  Something in a town maybe, I thought.  In the meantime I had to pick up the trike.  Since Hugo still wasn’t home I couldn’t get him to help.  I could get Mike, the bike salesman, to help me load it.  Sooner or later Hugo had to come home and then we could unload it.

So off I went to New Holt.  The drive was only about thirty minutes but it was nerve wracking since it was all flat county roads.  Once I got into town the roads weren’t any better.  But if I ran off the road and got killed in the pickup at least someone would find me.  Those roads were really, really lonely and poorly maintained.

“Well, how does it run?” I asked the man my age.

“It runs like a dream, a little loud but other than that it is a cool ride.” Mike said.

“I’m dying to see can we start it?” I asked.

“Sure let me show you how to get it going.”  He took about five minutes to show me how to choke and prime the motor then I was on my own.

I made sure kill switch was in the run position and the motor was primed and choked.   I got the trike moving then lowered the motor.  It started for a second as Mike said it would.  I turned off the choke and didn’t prime it, but I did open the throttle and drop the engine on the moving bike.  It roared to life.

The agreement was that I would drive it around town before I paid for it.  So I did just that.  I went to the restaurant were I had eaten the day before.  I shut the bike motor down and walk inside for a coke to go.

I carried the coke outside and drank it while I looked at the river.  Finally I went back and the trike started right up.  I was sold on the trike and I rode it back to the bike shop.

“Well do I get my money or not,” he asked smiling.

“You get it,” I said.

“Good, do you have a bike helmet?” he asked me.

“No, but I’m sure going to need one,” I replied.  ‘That thing run like hell and I didn’t even open it up all the way.”

“Tell you what I got a half dozen used helmets that I get in with bikes.  You can go through the box and if one suits you it’s yours, no charge.” Mike was smiling like an idiot when I counted out the money.

The cardboard box was filled with helmets.  Most were for children but a few were adult sized.  I noticed a half dozen or so completely round helmets.  It they hadn’t had the air holes in them they might have looked like motorcycle helmets.  “What the hell are these?” I asked.

“Polo helmets they bought new onces at the polo club and I bought them an a yard sale,” Mike informed me.

“Well, I can’t afford to play it or hang out with those who do, but I’ll take the helmet of someone who played polo.” I said it and laughed.  Mike helped me load the trike onto the back of the truck.  It was a half hour drive that I looked forward to being over.  I looked forward to having wheels.

I drove another 45minutes to get to Blane.  It was in absolutely the wrong direction but I needed somewhere to drop of the Gym Bag.  The best chance I had to find somewhere was Blane.  I looked all over town and nothing seemed secure and also offered instant access.  I drove back to the compound with the gym bag behind my seat.

It was almost dark when I arrived at the compound and Hugo still hadn’t come back.  I was beginning to think he decided I was too much trouble, when he drove the bronco into the compound.  He was alone which I somehow expected.  His ex struck me as not really the emotional type.

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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4 Responses to Sylvia 81

  1. jack says:

    A bug out bag . I have one that I keep in the truck i in case I have a bad day at work but it dosent have 10k in it. Then I have a ltttle kit in case I have a good day after work , condoms , lube, viagra.. lol

    • cindypress says:

      I know cops who have them. If they shoot someone by mistake who is politically volatile they want to be able to get away till it cools down. so they say. Mostly vice and gangs I think. Probably not in my sleepy little town.

  2. KO says:

    Once again great chapters and great reading, easy going and enjoyable. No doubt setting the groundwork for “something” and I look forward to that surprise! Thanks again for sharing your writing with me (us)!
    BTW, was at an afterwork function and while talking with a co-worker the FNG comment came up. Made me chuckle as here is where I heard that for the 1st time, at least the “F”NG part! 😀

  3. cindypress says:

    I will tell my dad all things old are new again. He told me it came from the vietnam war.

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