c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(1-26)
Something about the feel of grease and grit had always appealed to Parker Redman. It provided a contrast with family members who were generally scrubbed clean, appropriately attired, and ready for a church service or related events at any time. He relished having sore muscles and a layer of grime in effect, after working on one of his Harley-Davidson projects. Due to a childhood of crew cuts, formal suits, and wingtip shoes, he was glad for shaggy hair, tattoos, and road scars. When strangers turned shy in his presence, it made him grin. The measure of safe distance kept by most individuals left him in a comfort zone where he felt inner peace. He did not like being touched or hugged, or approached at close quarters. He trusted no one. Though his manner was polite and reserved, by nature.
Being isolated in the downhill garage of his cousin offered breathing room when finished with family encounters. Each trip up the slope caused him stress. It was difficult to interact on a personal level. He preferred solitude to the challenge of sharing meals with others. Particularly when they had a bloodline connection that he did not want to sever or disturb. Being anonymous did not make him afraid or anxious. It evoked a quiet sense of joy. He liked to stay busy, but also, alone.
In recent years, the climate had been mild for those who lived around the Ohio Valley and beyond. His burden while surviving seasonal changes stayed light. Yet the current winter presented a stark picture of what he remembered from bygone days. Temperatures lingered well below freezing, with wind-chill numbers dipping toward zero. Therefore, remaining secluded in the repair shack was a must. Any time spent outside tempted fate. And persistent bouts of snow kept his vantage point perpetually buried. So, visits to Bodean, Angelette, and the grandkids were infrequent by necessity.
As January moved toward its conclusion, he had managed to tear down the ragged Shovelhead motor, and rebuild it for new adventures that would come. Moments of relaxation lengthened thanks to this blessed achievement. But because he had become stuck in place, boredom eventually took hold. He sorted through the small library of shop manuals, for a mental jog with past memories filling his head. Then, inventoried his dwindling cigarette stash and bourbon reserve. He would have to be judicious in his habits, to endure without making a run to some local depot for more supplies. A chore that did not appeal to him, with such an unfriendly environment waiting beyond the walls of his hideout. Yet the thought of staying sober for too many days made wanderlust seize his spirit. He had been perpetually in motion for weeks, months, and years. To sit still, without any purpose in mind, seemed to invite death and the grave.
He had nearly reached a desperate point of trekking into the lower regions of Grafton, on foot, for some shopping at a grocery depot. But once again, there was a rapping on the garage wall. Something he first thought must have been a cascade of falling ice.
Krista Pearl appeared at one of the square windows, seemingly outfitted for a skiing jaunt. She carried a canvas sack of goods that trailed frozen crystals, behind. The bounty within must have been considerable, because she dragged it on the ground like a deer carcass.
“Hey Feesh, I figured y’all must be gettin’ thirsty and hungry in there. Open that damn door, it’s Christmas again, boy! I got ya some shit from the Dollar General, and one of our liquor stores!”
The reclusive biker had to rub his eyes when beholding this unexpected gift. Her oversized bag was full of pork rinds, pickles, canned meats, crackers, Camel smokes, and Evan Williams Bottled-in-Bond. He figured that the merchandise must have cost a hundred dollars, or more. It dazzled him with value, but also, a sense of embarrassment
“What the hell, lady? I don’t rate that kind of charity. My own cousin wouldn’t hook me up with so many treats! You must have lost your damn marbles...”
The truck-stop clerk settled on his rollaway bed. She peeled off her thermal garments, and opened a package of beef jerky. Her fuzzy boots were wet. She sat them by the propane heater.
“I know how men roll, y’all think of two things. Yer stomach and umm, gettin’ gratified on occasion. The second need is harder to satisfy, a lot more complicated. But the first I can handle. Don’t refuse my kindness, y’all ain’t a fool! Take it and be glad!”
Parker had been teetering on the brink of withdrawal pangs. His saddlebags boasted only a single pack of cigarettes, and a quarter-jug of whiskey. So, the gesture definitely got his attention. But it caused some concern over what she would expect in trade.
“I’m obliged to you, ma’am. Still though, your presents had to cost a bundle. Plus, there’s a crazy-ass storm brewing outside. I haven’t gone up the hill in several days. You shouldn’t be out in this weather. It’s not worth the risk. I’m not worth the risk!”
Krista pulled her shimmering curls back with a purple scrunchie. Then opened the high-proof Kentucky concoction.
“I’ve got empty-nest syndrome, Feesh. There’s nobody at home since my kid joined the Marines. And I think the ex is in jail again, somewhere. Not that I give a frig about him! I had to go into town anyway. But they closed the diner section of my workplace, and sent me back to the time clock. Traffic has been damn slow. Y’all can guess the roads are crappy. My Jeep can handle it though. And so can I, doggone it! But what I can’t handle is feelin’ sorry fer myself. That sucks, big-time! I needed a friend right now, understand? No matter what, I ain’t ashamed to say it out loud! What d’ya think, can ya handle doin’ me a favor in return? I’d call that a fair exchange!”
The willful loner felt oddly grateful for this delivery of dry goods, and conversation. But did not want to be indebted as a result of her kindness.
“I’ll be honest, friend. I don’t know what to say...”
The veteran server cocked her head to one side, and leaned forward with an emotional response.
“SAY THANK YOU, MISTER! THAT’S ALL I NEED TO HEAR!”
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