Tyche
Copyright© 2020 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 22
“That’s a mighty big ladder,” said the driver.
And I said, “Big boat needs a tall ladder.” As if that should be obvious.
“So ... where is this boat?”
“Across the road,” I said.
And from the backseat came, “I wanna boat.” It was spoken with a whine and a rising inflection.
And front seat said, “It’s winter ... what would you do with a boat?”
“Oh.”
And I said, “Got any money?”
Front seat looked indignant but backseat said, “Birthday money ... Two thousand fifty two dollars and...” she commenced to count her change, “ ... ninety seven cents.”
“You can buy and build a registered number precut 3.7 Farr kit for that or you can badger your mom for 15 thousand and buy a new one made right here in Pentwater.” I said.
I shut up ... I was hoping. I have a used one I’d give away. It’s in the way and I need the space.
“Ooo ... build one?” This from the backseat.
Driver said, “You’re too young.”
My mouth ran away before my brain kicked in. “I’m ten almost 11 ... I built two and helped in the construction of twenty more. I finished the 3.7 Masters race in September ... didn’t make the podium but I was close.”
Backseat said, “I’m 12 ... almost 13.” <If you can do it ... so can I> Can’t you just hear the sarcasm?
Well ... she is two years older and two years is forever at preteen age.
“May we come back ... I really need a restroom,” front seat said.
I looked at Junior ... she looked at me. Her stomach made funny noises, my stomach growled in response.
“We’ll meet you there,” Junior said. “It’s almost lunch.”
And I said, “The Wendy Burger is to die for.”
“Would you care for a ride?” Rear seat asked.
“We’ll ride with the marina crew.” They were just starting to come out the shop door.
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