Thunder and Lightening
Chapter 8
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

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, Karen, 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 the way they are talking about you," replied Bill in a 
tone of disgust. As the only male in the house, it was hard 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.

