Chapter 28

I decided to wait until I was less emotional before deciding what to do about Osborn. So the next morning I was at the sports field at 6 AM. I ran my hour and did about seven miles. I had stopped counting the laps and just ran an hour. I hated to fucking run. I always had hated it.

It was seven thirty when I pulled into the gym and hit the bag for an hour. Since it was Sunday, I didn't have a real plan for the day. Reggie didn't say a word, he seemed to have something on his mind. He sat in one of the ringside seats and watched the guys in the ring punch and jab each other. He kept the time, but he wasn't really there.

"Something wrong," I asked after I had finished my workout.

"Nothing for you to worry about Sheriff," he said without his usual smile.

"Okay, but if you need anything, you can count on me," I said.

I was sweaty and I smelled bad, but I stopped for breakfast anyway. It was almost nine so I went to the local Hardee's for a biscuit. The biscuits, filled with animal fat of one kind or another, were also fantastic. I sat there eating my biscuit filled with a chicken embryo, sliced port belly, and curdled milk, when I happened to look out the window.

An old man at least seventy parked a tricycle in the parking lot. It wasn't just any tricycle it was a thing of beauty. I admit I had a motorized trike that was an attention getter, but it was nothing like the one the old man rode. First of all it was hardly any taller than a large go cart. It was obviously homemade.

The rear wheels appeared to be off a child first bike. They were about 12" in diameter. The frame most likely was from a 20" Girls shocking pink bicycle. There was a front wheel hand brake but I would bet a hundred bucks it was just there to pass the highway patrol test, if it were stopped for inspection. I say that because it had a true trickle front wheel. There was no chain it was direct drive. It would also run away with you going down hill. So there were foot pegs where the old chain crank had been.

When the old man had his breakfast tray on a table and seated himself, I went over to him. "Hello, I'm Sheriff Porter, I would like to talk to you about the contraption in the parking lot.

"Yes sheriff?" he asked in a surprisingly young voice and a sparkle in his eye.

"Did you build it," I asked.

"I did indeed," he said. "The highway patrol already stopped me. They decided that it conformed to what little law there is on trikes on the road.

"Why did you leave it that awful shocking pink color?" I asked grinning at him.

"Oh hell my grand daughter likes it. I didn't have the heart to take a can of spray paint to it." he said with a laugh.

"Mind if I sit down," I asked.

"Not at all," he said.

"So tell me, how you made it?" I asked.

"I can't ride bikes any more. My balance is all fucked up from a stroke I had a few years ago. My grandkids want to ride their bikes but their parents are divorced and my daughter works a hell of a lot. So I needed a trike. I looked at what was out there and they were all way to expensive. So I designed this one. Then I kind of built it myself.

"I got a few tools left from when I was younger. I had to covert the front wheel from freewheel to a drive wheel but it wasn't too hard. A little welding that was a bitch but it works pretty well. For the back I just built a wide trailer then attached the bike frame. That front wheel was the mother, but I got it done."

"For the big question, would you build me one," I asked.

"Sheriff, I would be happy to build you one. Of course you will sign a waiver. So that when it falls apart and you get hurt, your insurance company won't sue me." he said.

"Would you mind if I rode it around the parking lot, while you eat Breakfast," I asked.

"Hell no, go for it," he said.

The trike rolled easy but the front wheel pedaling was a major pain in the butt to get used to. I pedaled it to the top of the slope in the parking lot. It gave me some pretty good exercise but I wasn't out of breath. Then when I started down the slope back the Hardee's parking lot. I removed my feet from the pedals and used the foot pegs. It ran like a mother going down hill. I also took the turns like a mountain goat. I was sold.

When I got back inside I asked. "How much just like it sits,"

"You want mine?" he asked.

"Yep just like it sits in the parking lot. Have you got someone you can call to come get you or do you need a ride home," I asked.

"I haven't agreed to sell it yet, and if I do you haven't heard the price," he replied.

"Okay will you sell it, and if so how much?" I asked.

"While you rode I thought about what I would charge to build one, if you liked it. I decided if you didn't mind used parts, I might have $50 in parts. My time isn't worth much these days, but I would have about five hours in it so another $50 bucks for building it. I got to make a profit so how about you take that one for $175?"

"Like I said you got someone to pick you up or do you need a ride home?" I asked.

"You carry that kind of money on you?" he asked.

"No, but they have an ATM at the Walmart store about a hundred yards from where you are sitting. I can be back with the money in fifteen minutes." I informed him.