Chapter 1

The older woman looked up and saw the man in dirty jeans and a chopped down sweatshirt enter the diner. Her diner had once been filled with people. That was before her time unfortunately. She had never seen it full. She had only been told about it. Those days were before traffic was rerouted over the mile high bridge. The bridge wasn't really a mile high, it only seemed that way. It ran two miles long and carried the through traffic that once traveled on the two lane road in front of the diner.

"You got any real coffee," the dirty middle-aged man asked.

"Sure, what kind of diner would it be without coffee?" she asked.

"The kind that serves that shit they call coffee, but tastes like candy." he replied.

"My coffee might not taste the best, but it will wake you up. I promise," the old lady said.

"I'm looking for a place to camp." the man stated when she returned with the coffee.

She knew that the rough looking man's statement was really a question. "You might try the Convenience store about a mile out of town. They let people set up a camper there for five dollars a day," the older woman said.

After he was gone she thought about him. She wondered if he was going to be trouble. He didn't quite look like the crazy vets, who came around now and then, but then again he did a little.

He was tall and not quite thin, so she assumed he hadn't been on the road long. Nothing like life on the road to skinny down a man or woman. She knew from her early life experiences.

Miles walked to the black primer colored Honda Helix with a sidecar parked just out of sight of the door. He had painted it with a half dozen cans of black double primer Rustoleum paint.

His friends had laughed at him for buying the one of a kind pink Honda with the sidecar. The Honda was a basket case before he lovingly restored it. It was his 'after the divorce' project', he told himself.

For two years he ordered new parts on line for the scooter and replaced the old ones. He documented his adventure with his cop out scooter on line. His cop out scooter had been his retirement plan.

He also documented his trials and tribulations in an Internet blog called, believe it or not, 'Cop Out Scooter'.

He had about a thousand readers weekly. Since he had neither the tools nor the expertise to totally rebuild the motor, he found a lawnmower mechanic to give it a shot. For two months the motor sat on the mechanic's work bench.

Miles had manage to remove the motor from the bike. Even that stretched his knowledge. He had definitely hit the wall, as far as his skill set was concerned. Oh yeah, His real skill lay in finding and ordering the parts needed for the real mechanic.

Every few days Miles went by to deliver a part, or just to look at the motor and maybe have the mechanic explain how something worked.

It had been an expensive build, but Miles had expected that. His main concern was reliability. He felt like he had it ready by the time summer came. He spent all of May riding it around town, when he wasn't working to pay for his latest parts order. Then toward the end of the month he began converting the sidecar to a trailer. He removed the seat and had the top of the side care removed and then a new top fitted. The new top completely covered the sidecar making it a great little trailer.

Miles pulled into the convenience store where he found a middle eastern man behind the counter.

"Lady at the dinner said you had a place I could pitch a tent," Miles suggested.

"Five dollar a night, there is a bathroom but no shower, or electricity." the dark man informed him.

"So I get a place to crap for my five bucks?" Miles asked.

"I do not understand," the man said.

"Neither do I," Miles said. "I think I'll pass on the space with nothing. Thanks just the same."