Thunder and Lightening: Chapter 8Home « Thunder and Lightening Index « Previous

- Chapter 8

Posted: November 20, 2004 - 12:27:42 pm

The week passed slowly as nothing of significance happened. Mike had taken over

some of the duties of assistant manager, Martin was learning how to look up

orders, and Abe had finished putting up the stock. Mike's wife, Linda, was

learning her job and trying his patience at the same time. He wasn't a good

teacher and he knew it. Overall, the atmosphere at the store was better than it

had been for years.

Stepping out onto the front porch, Jerry looked around the neighborhood. The old

folks were on their porches watching life pass by as kids played in the street.

Stretching, Jerry went over to the Camaro and opened the hood. The engine

compartment was a mess.

Returning to the house, he brought out his toolbox. He went to work removing

every part that was attached to the engine. It was going to take him most of the

day to do it properly. He hadn't done much more than to start on the job before

Martin came over to where he was working. Looking up at his neighbor, Jerry

asked, "What can I do for you this afternoon?"

"I want to learn how to fix a car," replied Martin feeling a little uneasy about

intruding.

"Which car do you want to learn on?" asked Jerry.

"Uh, yours?"

"Nope. How about your mother's car?"

"I guess so," replied Martin as he looked at the old monster parked in front of

the house.

"Okay. You get in and steer. I'll push it. We'll park it on the other side of

this tree," said Jerry.

The pair walked over to the twenty-five year old Caddy. Jerry looked at it and

said, "Not a bad looking car. It needs some bodywork, chrome, and new roof.

You'll definitely have to redo the interior to get it back to good shape. It's

rather large for the streets today, but you'll be able to trade it for a new

low-end car and perhaps pick up another old one to fix up. We'll have to see

about the mechanical parts of the car, first though."

There was a moment of silence as Martin considered that. He looked back at his

house and wondered what his mother would say to that. For now, she was stuck

taking a bus to work. Nodding, he got behind the wheel. Stretching, Jerry went

behind the car and shouted, "Put it into neutral and release the brakes. I'll

push."

Leaning forward, Jerry started pushing the car. This was a heavy monster and it

took all of his strength to get it moving. Slowly he got the car rolling, his

muscles reveling in being challenged in a feat of continued strength. Martin

steered the car away from the curb and into the middle of the street. The kids

cleared the way, watching in amazement at the sheer strength of the man pushing

the car. It sped up even more.

Turning the wheel, Martin drove the car over the curb. The sudden jarring of the

car almost tripped Jerry, but he recovered for about ten more steps. In a

spectacular fall, he tripped over the curb reaching out to catch his fall with

his hands. His hands slid across the ground for a yard before he came to a stop.

The grass and dirt slowed the car down to the point where it stopped before it

reached the tree. As soon as the car had stopped, Martin pulled the parking

break and ran out of the car over to where Jerry was picking himself off the

ground. Excited, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Forgot about the curb," replied Jerry. He looked at his hands expecting them to

be all torn up by his fall, but outside of a little redness there was no sign

that he had fallen. They should have been torn up, but the calluses had

protected them. Shaking his head, he said, "These bones of mine are encased in

leather."

"Anything broken?"

"No. Stubbed my toe, but there isn't much you can do about that," replied Jerry.

He walked over to where the Caddy was parked and said, "Let's move it up about

five more feet. No need to be working on the car in the sun."

It didn't take them long to get the car positioned under the tree. Walking

around the car to the driver side door, Jerry said, "Open the hood and let's

take a look at what you have."

Martin got out of the car and went to the hood. It took him a minute to figure

out how to open the hood. When he opened it, he found that some animal had built

a nest in the engine compartment. Shaking his head, he said, "This is a mess."

"I suggest the first thing you do is get rid of nest. Looks like a rat or

something decided to live there for a while," remarked Jerry looking over the

collection of sticks and leaves that had been carried into the engine area.

As Martin removed his shirt and went to work on the car, Jerry returned to

working on his. As he removed each part, he carried it around to the back of the

car and put it in the trunk. Since he didn't have a garage, the trunk would have

to suffice as a place to store the parts. He had just removed the battery when

Martin declared, "That's done. Now what?"

Jerry went over and pointed out all of the easily removable parts. The air

filter, battery, and distributor cap were the first to go. For the next three

hours, the men worked side by side, each on their own car, and talking

occasionally about what needed to be done. As they worked, a small crowd of

teenage boys gathered to watch what they were doing. In this neighborhood,

fixing a car passed for grand entertainment.

Jerry gave one of the kids ten dollars and sent him to the store to buy a couple

six packs of soft drinks. It was forty minutes before he returned, but the

drinks were still cool. Passing drinks around to all of the observers, they took

a break to replace the fluids lost by sweating.

Standing around, Martin said, "This is hard work. I'm bleeding on every

knuckle."

Looking down at his paws, Jerry saw that his hands were developing calluses

beyond those that he had the day before. He held out his hands for Martin to

examine and said, "In a few weeks, you won't recognize these as hands."

"Shit, man. That ain't normal," remarked Martin as he looked over the hands. A

number of the boys standing around nodded their agreement.

"I know," replied Jerry. The physical work had pushed the rage well into the

background, but turned his body into something just as monstrous.

At the end of the afternoon, both cars had been stripped to where the only thing

remaining in the engine compartments were the engine blocks. Jerry stepped back

and said, "I'd say that is enough for today."

"What? We've still got a couple of hours that we can work," replied Martin. He

had thought they would actually get the cars working that day.

"We need to get a hoist to help pull the engine. After that, we have to break

the engine down and replace all of the parts that are out of spec. That will

take a whole day for each engine."

"How do you know that I need to replace any parts?" asked Martin confused. As

far as he knew, Jerry didn't even know what was wrong with his mother's car.

Smiling at the obvious confusion expressed by Martin, Jerry said, "You wanted to

learn how to fix a car. Best way that I know of is to completely rebuild one."

"Oh. So how long is this going to take?" replied Martin.

"A couple of weeks, I would imagine. We've got to finish the engine and put it

back in. After that, we'll rebuild the carburetor and generator. Then we'll

spend some time checking every part as we put it back on the engine. Then, you

get to hold your breath as we see if it starts."

The amount of work was daunting and he wondered if he was willing to go through

all of that effort to get the car fixed. Almost as though Jerry was reading his

mind, he said, "You've got to finish what you started. In this shape, it is

worth about a hundred dollars. Fix it and you'll have something worth about

eighteen thousand."

A number of the kids that were still hanging around looked at each other in

surprise. The idea that they could get money fixing something up was a novel

concept to them. Martin nodded to himself and said, "I didn't realize how much

work I was getting into."

"That's life," replied Jerry as he looked over his audience. He continued, "I

know that sucks, but it is true. Too often we get involved in something without

being aware of the full effort that is required and without knowing the long

term consequences."

One of the kids asked, "So why bother doin' anything?"

Shaking his head, Jerry replied, "There's no easy way to get through life.

Everything you do has consequences."

"Shit, I don't want to do hard work," replied the kid.

"The easy way leads to the hardest work in the long run. Of course, I don't

expect you to believe me," replied Jerry with a sigh as he looked at the kid. It

seemed highly unlikely that this kid would change his opinion anytime in the

future. Grasping at a last straw, he said, "The best way is to find something

that you like to do and make money doing it."

"I like smoking grass," joked the kid.

"I like fucking, but there are some things that are better not pursued as a

career," replied Jerry with a shake of his head.

His comment caused everyone to laugh, but it was an uneasy laugh as people

thought about what he had said. Now that they had finished working on the car,

the crowd of watchers slowly dispersed. When it was only Martin and Jerry, the

young black man said, "I figured you'd have taken Joe's head off when he said

that he liked to smoke grass."

"You think he would listen to a white man?"

"Not really."

"I'd rather keep him open to future dialogs than slam him down now. You never

know what the future will bring." Jerry slowly turned and walked to the porch.

Taking a seat, on the step, he watched as Martin came to join him. He asked,

"Where's your little brother?"

Martin shook his head and said, "He borrowed ten bucks from Mom and left the

house early this morning. I've got no idea what he's up to."

Curious, Jerry didn't make a comment. He hoped that the kid wasn't doing

anything crazy, but it wasn't up to him. Shrugging, he said, "I hope that he

doesn't get in trouble. I like the kid."

"He told me about the bonus program based on grades," replied Martin. A rather

muted Abe had told him about the program. He knew his brother well enough to

know that his brother would want to get a bonus, but that it would be hard for

him to do. The other kids in the school didn't think that much of working hard

on schoolwork.

"It's going to be tough for him. I get the impression that a lot of the kids

around here don't think much of working hard," remarked Jerry.

"Are you saying that you think Blacks are lazy?" asked Martin rather disturbed

by the comment.

"Not really, just echoing the comments made by our audience after we finished

working on the car. Of course, their attitude isn't all that unusual. Hell, it

seems like my own kid doesn't believe in working hard," remarked Jerry.

"You have a kid?"

"Two."

"Where are they?"

A sense of sadness fell on Jerry as he answered, "They are at home with their

mother."

Not having a father in his life, Martin didn't know what he thought about the

situation. Curious, he asked, "Do you want to see them?"

"I don't know. They've never really cared to see me in the past and I don't know

much about them." Admitting that out loud was one of the hardest things he could

do.

Wearing a strange expression on his face, Martin replied, "Shit. I don't know

who my Daddy was. Still, it would be kind of nice to meet him some day."

"What would you say to him?" asked Jerry.

"Where the fuck have you been my whole life?" answered Martin with a little

anger in his voice. Calming down, he asked, "What else am I supposed to ask

him?"

Laughing, it was easy to understand how that would be the logical question.

However, life wasn't that simple and the absence could be explained by a

thousand reasons. The one the kid didn't want to hear is that his father didn't

care enough to be bothered. Jerry answered, "Yeah, I suppose that is a

reasonable question. So I guess you think I should invite the kids over here?"

"I wasn't saying that," replied Martin. He spat on the ground in front of him

and then said, "I guess it wouldn't be a bad idea anyway. You don't work

tomorrow and school doesn't start until after Labor Day. Bring them over

tomorrow."

There wasn't any reason not to do that. Of course, getting in touch with the

kids was going to be tough, particularly without having to talk to his wife.

Looking over at Martin, he asked, "Would you mind making a telephone call for

me?"

"You haven't got a telephone?"

"No. We'll have to go someplace where there is a telephone."

Shaking his head, Martin asked, "Why do you need me to make the call?"

"I don't want to talk to my wife."

Remembering the raw anger on his boss's face after the other day, Martin could

understand why it might be for the better if Jerry didn't talk to his wife.

Nodding his head, he said, "Sure, I can do that."

The pair of them went to the store so that Martin could make the call. While

Martin explained to Bill that he could meet his father at the mall tomorrow

morning, Jerry searched the catalogs for the parts he would need for the Camaro.

With a list in hand, he went through the stock to see if he had the parts. He

was going through his money faster than he had budgeted and was going to have to

slow down his spending a bit.

Martin returned from the front desk and said, "I told your son that you would be

at the mall tomorrow at ten. He didn't make any promises."

"That's about what I expected."

Sitting in the mall drinking a coffee and eating a cinnamon roll, Jerry watched

the people walking past. The time was getting close to ten and the stores were

preparing to open. The mall walkers were starting to clear out of the mall, only

to be replaced by the early shoppers. There were a number of mothers with

children of all ages waiting for stores to open to buy back-to-school clothes.

As a general rule, the older the child was, the less happy they were to be with

their mothers.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he noticed his son slowly wandering in his

direction. Waving to get the attention of the boy, he waited to see if his son

saw him. For the first time, he noticed how threadbare his son's clothes were.

His son saw him, but didn't speed up his approach to the table. In fact, it

appeared as though he was about to change his mind about coming over to the

table on several occasions.

Jerry pointed to the cinnamon roll on the plate across from him. It was still

hot and the frosting was melting into the kind of gooey mess that made eating

them half the battle and most of the fun. Bill slowly made his way to the table

and sat down without saying a word. Jerry said, "I'm glad you came, Bill."

A grin flickered over the face of his son at the adult form of his name as

opposed to the 'Billy' used by his mother. He shrugged in the manner of a

teenager and said, "I almost didn't come here."

That was understandable. Jerry had no idea what his wife was saying about him at

the house, but it would have been pretty bad. He replied, "I understand. I guess

your sister decided not to come."

Bill snorted and said, "She's at home with mom."

"I guess things have been pretty unpleasant there."

"Unpleasant? It's been sheer hell there. You'd think you had killed someone from

they way they are talking about you," replied Bill in a tone of disgust. As the

only male in the house, it was heard listening to how horrible men were. His

mother didn't think too much of men and he had always been the recipient of that

attitude, only now it was a hundred times worse.

"I'm not going to talk bad about her. It just isn't worth the energy."

Taking a bite of the cinnamon roll, Bill ate quietly working up the energy to

ask the questions that had bothered him the most. After swallowing, he realized

that he wanted something to drink. He croaked, "Got anything for me to drink?"

Pointing to a cup, Jerry answered, "I bought you a coffee."

Surprised at the adult choice of drink, Bill took a sip of the hot liquid and

couldn't decide if he liked it or not. After another minute, he asked, "What

happened the night you left?"

"I was in a car accident and arrived late at home."

"Were you okay?" asked Bill surprised by the statement, as it was the first that

he heard of his father being in an accident.

"Fortunately, but the engine of my car was totaled. The car accident wasn't

anything compared to getting knocked on my ass by the lightning bolt that struck

less than ten feet away from me." The events of that night were still fresh in

his mind.

"Wow! So what happened when you got home?"

"Let's just say that she didn't care that I almost died. It was leave or kill

her. I figured it was better for everyone that I leave," replied Jerry with a

sigh.

They sat there quiet, each lost in their thoughts. Both ate some more of their

cinnamon rolls and drank their coffee. Although he looked calm, Jerry was afraid

of the questions that Bill would ask. Bill was slowly working up to ask the

question that bothered him the most. Finally, he said, "How come the only time

you ever talked to me was when you were yelling at me?"

"Whenever I wanted to talk to you, your mother would say that you were busy

studying or doing something and I shouldn't disrupt your studies. The only time

she really allowed me to talk to you is when you were in trouble. By that time,

I was too angry to talk nicely with you. I guess I pretty much sucked as a

father," answered Jerry. His deep gravelly voice conveyed greater sadness than

Bill had ever heard before in his life.

"Oh," replied his son realizing that there wasn't much for him to say. After a

minute, he asked, "So where are you living?"

"I'm living in a slum," replied Jerry with a smile wondering what would be the

reaction of his son.

Not believing his father, Bill said, "Right. So can I see this slum?"

"Sure, we can go over there after I finish my coffee," replied Jerry as he took

the last bite of cinnamon roll. He watched as his son finished his roll and

drank some of the coffee. It was clear that the boy didn't know what to think of

the coffee.

They left the mall and headed over to the truck. Bill was shocked at the old

truck and said, "What's with this piece of junk?"

"That's Thunder, my new truck."

"That wasn't new the day they built it. It's got to be a hundred years old."

Laughing at the exaggeration, Jerry replied, "It's only forty years old and it's

a fine truck. You won't recognize it once I get it fixed up."

"Does it run?" asked Bill as they got into the truck. He was concerned that it

would break down in the middle of nowhere and they would be stuck there.

The gentle purr of the engine after he started it, brought a look of surprise to

Bill. It actually sounded better than the old Camaro. Shrugging his shoulders,

Bill said, "It starts."

That Bill hadn't believed him became clear as they drove up to the house in the

old truck. Nervous, he looked around the neighborhood taking in all of the

Blacks. The elderly were on the porches, the kids playing in the street, and the

teenagers hanging out around one of the cars parked on the street. Parking the

car in front of the house, Jerry said, "Here we are."

The first thing Bill noticed was his father's car parked under the tree and the

Caddy parked next to it. Turning to his father, he asked, "What's up with the

cars?"

"I'm fixing the Camaro and the kid next door is fixing his mother's Caddy,"

answered Jerry. Going over to the Camaro, he lifted the hood and pointed at the

bare engine block. With a shake of his head, he said, "The bumper that fell off

the car in front of me took out the oil pan. By the time I was able to make it

off the road the engine had eaten itself. I won't know how bad it is until I

take the engine apart."

Staring at the car, Bill said, "I didn't know you knew how to work on cars."

"Once I married your mother, I had to quit. She didn't like the idea of her

husband working on cars in the garage. She thought it would make us look like

white trash," replied Jerry with a sigh. He'd had to give up fishing too, since

according to her only poor whites went fishing.

"Can you teach me?" asked Bill.

"Sure. We'll find a good car for you and let you rebuild it. By the time you're

done, you should be old enough to drive," answered Jerry surprised at the

interest his son was showing in cars.

"Wow!"

The two went into the house together. Stopping in front of the living room wall,

Bill asked, "What's with the bumper?"

"That's what I hit with the Camaro."

"Sure did total it."

Shaking his head, Jerry answered, "No. I did that after I pulled it out of the

engine. I guess I was a little angry."

Eyebrows raised, Bill didn't say a word. He had seen his father lose his temper

on many occasions and it was definitely a terrifying sight. It didn't seem

possible that a human could bend a bumper like that, but he had seen his father

pull a metal fence post out of the ground that had been set in place with

concrete.

Seeing the expression on his son's face, Jerry said, "I haven't hit anyone since

I was in Junior High."

He didn't know if that was true, but he had never seen his father hit his mother

regardless of how angry she had made him. Thinking back on it, he realized that

his father had never spanked him, regardless of what he had done. In a way, that

was an amazing testament to his father's self control. Nodding, his son replied,

"I believe that."

There was a knock on the door and a very surprised Jerry went to it to see who

would be stopping by. Opening the door, he found a smiling Abe standing there.

Surprised, he said, "Come in Abe. My son is visiting."

Abe came into the living room. The two young men studied each other, as though

sizing up the other boy. Jerry said, "Bill, this is my neighbor Abe. Abe, this

is my son Bill."

Nodding his head, Bill said, "Nice to meet you."

"I kinda expected you to be as big as your father," replied Abe surprised at the

stature of the boy standing in front of him believing that the boy was his age.

"I'm big for my age. I'm only thirteen," replied Bill understanding how Abe

could have been confused.

"Damn, you are big for your age. I though you were fifteen," replied Abe, "I

hope you don't have the same temper as your father."

The statement was like a knife getting stuck in the stomach for both of them.

Jerry knew that his son had been in a lot of fights at school. It seemed to him

that every week his wife would send him in to yell at the boy for fighting. For

Bill, he knew that he had the same temper as his father and it was a source of

trouble. He replied, "I guess I do."

"Damn. Let me know if I start to piss you off then," replied Abe with a

good-natured smile. He added, "I've seen your dad a little angry and believe me,

I don't want two of you going off on me."

Shaking his head, Jerry asked, "So what can I do for you?"

"Oh, I was thinking about your advice about getting a bike," replied Abe. "I

think that's not a bad idea, but I decided that I would get a moped."

"A moped?"

"Yeah. It's like a bike, but has a motor. I went out and priced them Saturday. I

can pick up a used one for a hundred dollars. I even put a ten dollar down

payment on it at the motorcycle store."

"That sounds like a good idea," replied Jerry with a nod.

"Yeah, you can start driving one of those at fourteen since the top speed is

only thirty miles per hour." Abe had given a lot of thought about buying the

moped. Getting a bike wouldn't have been as impressive to the guys at school,

but the moped would blow their minds. At the same time, it was actually a better

form of transportation than a bike.

The only thing that Bill heard was the fact that he could drive one at fourteen.

That was in a couple of months and would make the perfect birthday present. He

said, "I would like one of those."

Smiling, Jerry was impressed with Abe's initiative. He asked, "Do you want me to

come check it out and make sure that it is in good shape?"

"You'd do that for me?"

"Sure. I bet Bill would be interested in seeing one of those mopeds himself."

The offer was more than he expected. He had come over to find out when he would

get paid so that he would know when he could pick up the moped. Nodding, he

said, "That would be great. What I really came over to ask was when I was

getting paid so that I could tell the guy when I would come pick it up from

him."

Feeling a little foolish, Jerry replied, "Payday is Friday. You'll get paid for

your work last week. If I remember correctly, you put in about twenty five

hours."

"Right. So that should mean I get paid a hundred and thirty seven dollars."

Shaking his head, Jerry said, "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you

didn't take into account taxes."

"Taxes?" asked Abe.

"Yeah. There's social security and Federal Income Taxes. The social security

will come to about twelve dollars. The Federal Income Taxes will be about twenty

dollars. You'll still get about a hundred dollars," remarked Jerry.

"That's not fair. I worked for that money," replied Abe.

Smiling, Jerry said, "Wait until your brother sees his paycheck."

Still chuckling at the thought of Abe and Martin becoming Republicans and

demanding tax relief, he led the two young men to his truck. After getting

directions, he took them to the motorcycle shop. The primary products sold there

were Honda Motorcycles, but they had a number of used cycles and mopeds as well.

The three of them got out and looked around the lot. Abe led Jerry to a back

area where an ancient moped was leaning against the back fence.

Jerry bent down and examined the bike carefully. It was an old moped built in

the early seventies. The bike had seen better days with scratches and paint

peeling from the front. The brakes looked old and worn. Getting on the bike, he

started peddling and engaged the engine. The engine didn't want to start and

once it did, a huge plume of smoke shot out the engine. Returning the bike to

where it had been, Jerry turned off the engine.

The salesman had come running from office to see what was going on. Spotting

Abe, he smiled and said, "Oh, you're back. Ready to pick it up?"

Shaking his head, Jerry asked, "Why are you selling this moped to him? It's in

horrible condition."

"It's also only a hundred dollars," replied the salesman.

"The brakes will cost seventy dollars to replace. The engine needs to be rebuilt

and the parts alone will cost two hundred. The tires need to be replaced, that

will be another hundred," replied Jerry.

Bristling, the salesman replied, "Hey, I told the kid that it was in poor

condition and was being sold as is. I run an honest shop here. It's a good bike

and if he puts the money into fixing it, he'll get that money back."

Glancing over at Abe, he saw the young man nod in agreement. Mollified somewhat,

Jerry said, "You got any other mopeds or scooters here?"

The salesman looked around for a moment and then said, "I've got an old Honda

step through somewhere around here. We're asking eight hundred for it."

The three of them followed the salesman to a nice cherry red scooter. Jerry

asked, "Is it street legal for a fourteen year old?"

"Yeah, he'll need to wear a helmet driving it on the street," replied the

salesman. He started up the scooter and let Abe drive it around the lot. It

looked like a small motorcycle.

Watching Abe smiling as he drove it, Jerry could tell that he really liked the

bike. Turning to the salesman, he asked, "So what is the minimum price we can

buy it?"

"Eight hundred. The price in not negotiable."

"Can we get him a loan?" asked Jerry wondering how he could get the bike down to

a price where he could pay for it.

"He's fifteen. It's not possible."

"How about if I co-sign?" asked Jerry getting a funny look from his son.

Nodding, the salesman said, "It would have to be for twelve months."

"Okay. There's a new one over there. How much is it?"

"That's fifteen hundred after all is said and done," answered the salesman.

"Let's get the bike that Abe is driving around and the new one for my son,"

replied Jerry looking down at Bill to see his reaction. Bill's eyes grew huge as

saucers at the idea that he was getting a scooter.

"Wow!" shouted Bill as the news sunk in. He was getting a new scooter.

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