Chapter 3: The Shadow

I SPENT THE WEEK biking around town, taking pictures, and cleaning the garage. Tearing down a motorcycle was going to be more work than tearing down a bicycle. It wasn’t going to be that bad, I guessed. I wasn’t going to be working on a Harley Hog. Tony rode a Triumph Cub 199cc sport bike. It was about two steps above putting a motor on my bicycle. It would be a little tricky taking it apart, but not as bad as it sounds at first.

Still, I was going to need room and clean workbenches to do the job, so I worked pretty hard and managed to get all the remaining boxes stacked neatly on one side of the garage with the other side open for my repair job. I found Dad’s Shop-Vac and got into all the corners on my side of the garage to clean out the dust and cobwebs. I’d probably need the vacuum when I was sanding, and was glad it had a filtering bag.

Of course, Mom wanted to pull the Falcon into the open bay and not have it parked in the driveway. Dad explained to her that I had a job coming in and would need the shop space. Mom eyed the stacked side and suggested Dad might want to clear more room so she could get her car inside this winter.

In the winter, I didn’t think I’d be doing any jobs and Mom would be welcome to park on the side I’d cleared. But Dad made some effort to clean out the other side. It was just hard for him.

In addition to collecting tools he’d never need or use, Dad was a bit of a hoarder. He never threw anything away. When we were unpacking one box, he proudly pulled out a thing that I couldn’t identify. He held it like it was a precious trophy.

“What’s that, Dad?” I asked.

“That is the water pump your sister Deborah took out of the old Champion. Took apart the whole car to get to it.” And with that he told the story that I’m sure I’d heard twenty times already. He wasn’t going to throw away that old piece of junk, because it was the first thing Deborah did on the car by herself.

I’d leaned over the engine in a car and only recently was able to check the oil without a stepstool. I could understand why Deborah decided to start at the front and take everything off so she could get to it. She’s only five feet tall.

Dad came home from the service station where he worked on Wednesday afternoon, driving a flatbed truck. Mom was out ‘calling’ so he pulled up right to the garage and whistled to get my attention. I was inside with my music going full blast. At the sound of Dad’s whistle, though, I came running. I’d learned that early on in life.

“Help me load all this stuff onto the truck, Nate.” We set to work.

“Are you taking all this to the dump without even opening the boxes?” I asked in disbelief.

“Hush your mouth, boy. None of this is going to a dump. Henry says he’s got a building behind his house about the size of a garage that’s mostly empty. Used to be where he worked on cars before he got the station. He said I can store my extra stuff there and get at it any time I want to,” Dad said.

“That’s cool. Is there anything else I should have out of here for my project?”

“Yes. When we get to the back, there’s an engine stand. I think I can adapt it to fit the motorcycle engine when I work on it.”

It took us an hour to load all the boxes onto the truck and locate the stand. Then we drove out to Henry’s place and backed the truck—which was Henry’s—up to the outbuilding. In another hour, we had everything stacked neatly on one side of the old garage. Henry had a bunch of stuff stored on the other side.

Dad dropped the truck back at the station and thanked Henry, then we walked home together.

I did an additional modification to my bike that week, too. I pulled the handlebars and cranks and painted them the same gloss black as the rest of the bike. With new handlebar grips, the bike had a whole new classy look. But I wasn’t done yet.

At Western Auto where I went to get some initial supplies for the motorcycle, like detergent to clean out the gas tank and sandpaper, I came across some pinstriping paint. I bought a can of metallic gold and a fine brush. I put a thin gold line down either side of the crotch panel on the bike and painted a four-leaf clover on the head tube. I chose a four-leaf clover because I couldn’t think of any other design I felt confident I could draw.

When everything was reassembled, I rode over to Judy’s house with an envelope of photos. No one was home. I didn’t know where Janice lived, so that ended my quest for female company. I didn’t think the two were really girlfriend material, but they were kind of funny and cute. I could definitely see spending more time photographing them.

Friday, Tony brought his motorcycle over and pulled into the garage where I pointed. It was a dirt floor, so I had broken-down boxes spread out and taped together to make a work surface.

“You take care of my baby,” he said. “I’m taking off for two weeks on a road trip to California. Now, if you aren’t quite done with it when I get back, I’ll let that slide as long as it’s ready soon.”

“Why the sudden leeway, Tony? I expected you to be a little hardnosed about this.”

“Nate, people got me all wrong. I’m not a bad guy. I just like to have a little fun and tease a bit,” he laughed. “Besides, the old lady said to be nice to you. She’s got half the votes and all the pussy.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Well, I’ll still do my best to have it ready when you get back. You sure you want it all black?”

“Just like your bike. Jet black and glossy. I’ll call it The Black Snake. And I like what you did with the gold. Can you put my initials, TK, down on the corner of the tank? About here?”

“You got it. Western Auto said they can have the paint next week. It will take me that long to get it stripped down.”

“You know, speaking of Western Auto, I stopped there early this week and they referred me to a body shop in Huntertown. I got an estimate. Not that I don’t trust you, but I wanted to know what kind of a deal you were making me. They said it would take them a month and cost a lot more than you’re charging. So, I can afford to be a little lenient on the schedule.”

“Mind my asking how it got banged up like this?” I asked.

“Slick pavement. A car pulled out of an intersection ahead of me and I slammed on the brakes. Totally laid it down on the side. I was lucky to be wearing my leathers. Still got a few scrapes. Guy in the car that pulled out in front of me just kept going like he never saw a thing. Only 150 miles on the bike when it happened.”

“Good thing you were riding alone.”

“Yeah. Took me two weeks to convince Patricia to get on it again. But everything works fine. Just needs the body repaired.”

I pulled out a clipboard I’d cadged from Mom. I’d typed up two copies of the estimate and had him sign one. The other, I gave him.

“Put your address and phone number on this, too. If I need to get hold of you or when I’m ready for it to be picked up, I can call.”

“You act like a pro.” He filled out the paperwork and handed it to me. We shook hands and he walked out of the driveway. An Impala pulled up in front and he got in, giving me a little wave as they drove away.

What I’d forgotten was that this was a holiday weekend. The Fourth of July was on Monday. It didn’t make much difference. Mom still preached on Sunday morning, even though there were about half the number in the congregation that there had been the week before. Andy and I still handed out bulletins, passed the offering plates, and sat in the back pew of the church. Mom gave a kind of patriotic sermon. Not sure how she made the connections she did.

“Hey, we’re still going to play basketball this afternoon,” Andy said. “Join us?”

“Yeah. About three? No company coming today.”

At the appointed time, I rode my bike over to the school and spotted half a dozen guys at the outside basketball court. I stopped a little short of them and snapped a couple of pictures.

“Guys, this is Nate. He’s a junior joining us this year.”

“Hey, Nate,” they chorused. I was soon chosen for a team and we played around for a while. I’m not that great at basketball and one of the guys discovered he could fake me out anytime he wanted to, just by raising a hand in the air and then going the other way. I made one basket, though, so I didn’t feel too bad.

“What are you going to do when the rest of the guys are on the basketball team?” Andy asked when we broke to get a drink from the fountain. I laughed.

“Sit in the bleachers with your girlfriends,” I said. That got some groans and some water splashed at me.

“Fine. We’ll just count you as one of the girls,” one of the guys said.

“I’ll probably be taking your pictures,” I said.

“What?”

I went to my bike and grabbed my camera to show them. They were more interested in the bike.

“Nice bike. You plan to win the parade tomorrow?” Tom asked.

“The what? What parade?”

“It’s a Fourth of July tradition around here. Everybody in town goes,” Andy said. “It started out being all adults a generation or two ago. Then, as bicycles became more a thing for kids, it was just for the little ones. But these days, it’s back to being something everybody who has a bicycle participates in. The town’s too small for a regular parade, so everybody decorates their bicycles and we ride up Main Street as the crowds cheer for their favorites. Mr. Barkley sponsors some prizes, but he always ends up with best of show because he has one of those old high-wheel bikes from like a century ago. You have to ride.”

“Yeah. Parade’s at noon,” Tom said. “All you have to do is show up. Then you can join us at the river for swimming. I heard Janice has a two-piece she’s wearing that’s really cut short.”

“I think I met her. And Judy.”

“You’ve met the town fruitcakes then,” Ron laughed. He hadn’t said much all day.

“Nothing wrong with the bods. I just don’t think I could date one of them,” Ron said.

“Only if you dressed up in a costume.”

“You could be Captain Crunch.”

I couldn’t keep track of the names and who was talking.

“Judy and Janice dressed up as Popeye one time. Ever since then they’ve been calling people ‘sailor.’”

“Yeah, they called me that when I met them. What’s it all about?”

“Back in elementary school, the teachers had a ‘dress like your favorite character’ Friday,” Andy explained. “Judy and Janice took it a step further and dressed up like characters every Friday. Everyone thought they’d grow out of it in junior high, but they’re juniors in high school now and still putting on a show most Fridays.”

“I thought they were dressed a little um ... extreme. I took some pictures of them. Reminded me of some of the pictures of the victorious allies cruising through France that were in Look Magazine.”

“Now they’ll be after you to take pictures of them every week,” Ron said.

“Just stay away from my girlfriend,” Dan said. “Anybody touches her, I’ll take his balls.” He hadn’t said much today and I got the impression he was a year older and kind of a tough. I don’t know what possessed me.

“Gee, man. Don’t you have a pair of your own? They kind of come as standard equipment on most guys.” Dan gave me a shove and I landed on the ground, protecting my camera from getting smashed. He was headed toward me with a fist raised.

The other guys jumped in front of him and got him settled down. He took off in a huff. Andy helped me up.

“They might be standard equipment, but I guess none of us have balls the size of yours,” he laughed. “Dan thinks he’s tough. He’s a senior and hasn’t let any of us forget it since school got out. I think there’s only one guy in school he won’t tangle with.”

“I don’t have big balls. I just have a big mouth,” I said as I dusted myself off. Mom would have a fit if she found out I was in a fight. Not much of a fight, of course, but still... “Who’s he afraid of?” I asked.

“Tony Kowalski. If you run into him, just be quiet and do whatever he says. He’s got a gang of motorcycle buddies from Huffington. They follow him like he’s Jesus.”

“I know Tony,” I said, not thinking what that might do to my standing. “I’m doing some work on his bike for him.” The guys all stepped away a bit.

“Man, he’s bad news. There’s been a big run of thefts and graffiti lately and the constable suspects it must be his gang. They just haven’t caught the guy at it,” Tom said. “Um ... see you at the parade. I gotta boogie.” He turned and left the court. The other guys quickly followed.

“You might have a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card, being the preacher’s kid, but don’t get caught with Tony when his gang gets busted,” Andy said. “See you tomorrow.” Then even Andy left. I rode home for Sunday night Sundaes.

I needed a little something extra, so I had two.

Monday morning, I started tearing down Tony’s bike. I’d drained all the liquids from it over the weekend and the next thing to do was remove the fuel tank and clean it so I didn’t get any accidental ignitions from gas fumes. While I was working, I spotted my little sister’s bike and thought I should clean it up a little so she could ride in the parade. I used a damp rag to clean all the dust from it from sitting in our garage in the city.

“Hey, Kat!” I yelled from inside the back door. “Come down so I can adjust your bike for you.”

She came skipping down the stairs in a pretty good mood.

“I have a bike?” she asked.

“Did you forget you own one? The question is, ‘Do you remember how to ride?’ There’s a big parade of bicycles at noon today. You’ll probably be able to meet some other kids your age.”

“Coolio.”

She came to the garage and looked at her bike.

“It’s a little kid’s bike!”

“Well, you were little when you got it. I don’t think you’ve ridden it in a year or two.”

“I can’t go out on something like that! They’ll think I’m a dork.”

“You could decorate it up. Put a couple of balloons on it. Some ribbons. Maybe get a card and clip it to the fork so the spokes make it sound like a motorcycle,” I said. She looked disdainfully at me.

“Dork,” she repeated and stalked off to the house.

Well, that was that. I looked at her bike critically. It really was too small for her. Maybe I could find an old bike somewhere I could fix up for her. I went in for an early lunch and told Mom about the parade and that I was going to go ride in it. Mom tried to convince Kat to participate, but she stubbornly refused.

Mom and Kat walked downtown to get a spot for the parade. Not that it was hard in the one-block business district of Main Street. There were probably a hundred people out to watch the parade, most in front of Center Marketplace. I rode around until I found where folks were gathering for the parade.

I don’t think Kat would have looked like a dork. There were people of every age getting ready to ride, including some parents who were walking along with tiny tykes on little bikes with training wheels. Every bike was decorated. Just like I’d told Kat to do. Balloons, ribbons, crepe paper, flags, noise-makers. And in the middle of it all was Mr. Barkley on his high wheeler. Everybody was laughing and there were six kids getting ready to lead the parade marching with kazoos. At the stroke of twelve, signaled by a blast of the volunteer fire station siren, the marchers started off down the street. They were followed by the littlest riders, most of whom had parents walking beside them, sometimes holding their bikes steady. Then it went up in age. There were a couple of groups of high schoolers. I rode in the second group. The first group were some of the guys I played basketball with the day before. They rode while bouncing basketballs beside them. Apparently, they were most of the high school team. My bike stood out from the others in my group and they motioned me to take the lead. There were more people on the street when we started riding the block of our ‘downtown.’ When bikes reached the end of the block, the riders dismounted and walked back up to join the spectators. I got a couple of whistles for my bike. Behind my group were four riders on racing bikes with drop handlebars. They wore helmets and matching jerseys. And finally, Mr. Barkley closed down the parade with his high wheeler.

I almost fell off my bike when I caught sight of Judy and Janice. They were wearing red and white striped mini-skirts, blue halter tops with stars on them, and white go-go boots. They had their hair tied back in pigtails with red, white, and blue ribbons and held red, white, and blue pompoms. I thought the outfits were pretty cute, but they really didn’t need to dot their faces with big freckles. All-American girls.