is making lots of money, Dad.” I couldn’t help telling him. “It’s pretty unbelievable.”
“That’s great. But how much are you boys working? The shop’s important, but don’t let it tie you down too hard,” Dad said. “It’s also summertime, Dewey. You need to have some fun.”
Vince overheard. He grinned at me, sprung up on his toes, and pretended to cast a fishing line.
“People really need us, Dad.”
“They need to chew on our butts,” Vince mumbled, and I steered away from him with the phone.
Dad asked, “Are you making it to the bank with the cash? You’re not leaving it all in the tin every night, are you?”
“N-no.” It was a half-lie. “I’m just leaving enough to make change.” I tried to think then. I might have skipped a night. Or was it two?
Vince put his face in mine again. He looked at me with one eye closed, one eye wide open. I turned my back and changed the subject with Dad.
“Dad, about the aid truck…well, it means there is fuel somewhere . Right?”
“Well, ‘government reserve’ or something like that. And it’s making people a little crazy. They arrested a fella up here for siphoning from an aid truck in the middle of the night!” Dad said.
“Stealing gas,” I mumbled. “What next?”
“Anything valuable is subject to theft,” Dad said. “And values are changing out there.”
As soon as I passed the phone to Lil, I grabbed the key to the shop and headed toward the door.
“Where ya goin’, Dewey?” Vince gave me a smirk. He knew, and I knew, that I was going to the barn. I had a wad of cash to bring in.
16
VINCE CAME BACK FROM THE MORNING SEA Camp delivery whistling. He bounced right out to the paddock and picked up the difficult job he’d been working on the day before. No swearing.
Meanwhile, I’d taken my triage theory in a little different direction. I gave Vince the harder jobs (without mentioning to him that I knew he was the better mechanic). I knocked off the standard stuff more quickly by lining up the similar jobs and getting on a roll. I also got into the shop right after morning chores—no Angus-and-Eva drop-off. Vince did better focusing on the couple of jobs a day. And I didn’t feel like a tyrant.
Well, except for the times I nagged him about the parts. True, we had a very loose system forkeeping track—maybe no system at all. We’d never really needed one. But now that we were busy, I was trying to stay on top of it. Vince seemed to have no idea what he used.
I’d stand there looking at the shelves and ask him, “How many brake assemblies did you go through yesterday?” Or, “Wasn’t there another roll of Teflon cable? Did you take a box of twenty-seven-inch tubes outside?”
For the first time in his life he couldn’t come up with a short answer. He barely answered at all. He’d say, “No. Uh, no. I don’t think I used that.” But he sounded more like he was asking a question.
I had no time to go back through orders checking and rechecking. Not with so many repairs still waiting. My strategy was to go forward—with my brother Vince, the spaced-out bike-mechanic genius.
I kept telling myself it was okay. I was getting an earlier start now, and I was even setting myself up with the parts the night before.
Who’s the genius?
“In the zone,” I said to myself. I fired up thecompressor and hissed air into three tires in a row. “Oh yeah!”
Suddenly Lil was at my elbow.
“What?” I said.
And don’t bother me about the shop being too full of bikes when we’re having a good morning here and I’m perfectly in charge…
“I want that,” she said. She pointed to the compressor and gave me an only slightly apologetic look.
“Don’t let her have it!” Vince warned from the paddock door. “She’ll flatten it with the sledge and glue it to the barn.” He had a point. Lil thought everything on the planet had something to do with her art. Things went missing, then turned up sort of re-created
“That’s great. But how much are you boys working? The shop’s important, but don’t let it tie you down too hard,” Dad said. “It’s also summertime, Dewey. You need to have some fun.”
Vince overheard. He grinned at me, sprung up on his toes, and pretended to cast a fishing line.
“People really need us, Dad.”
“They need to chew on our butts,” Vince mumbled, and I steered away from him with the phone.
Dad asked, “Are you making it to the bank with the cash? You’re not leaving it all in the tin every night, are you?”
“N-no.” It was a half-lie. “I’m just leaving enough to make change.” I tried to think then. I might have skipped a night. Or was it two?
Vince put his face in mine again. He looked at me with one eye closed, one eye wide open. I turned my back and changed the subject with Dad.
“Dad, about the aid truck…well, it means there is fuel somewhere . Right?”
“Well, ‘government reserve’ or something like that. And it’s making people a little crazy. They arrested a fella up here for siphoning from an aid truck in the middle of the night!” Dad said.
“Stealing gas,” I mumbled. “What next?”
“Anything valuable is subject to theft,” Dad said. “And values are changing out there.”
As soon as I passed the phone to Lil, I grabbed the key to the shop and headed toward the door.
“Where ya goin’, Dewey?” Vince gave me a smirk. He knew, and I knew, that I was going to the barn. I had a wad of cash to bring in.
16
VINCE CAME BACK FROM THE MORNING SEA Camp delivery whistling. He bounced right out to the paddock and picked up the difficult job he’d been working on the day before. No swearing.
Meanwhile, I’d taken my triage theory in a little different direction. I gave Vince the harder jobs (without mentioning to him that I knew he was the better mechanic). I knocked off the standard stuff more quickly by lining up the similar jobs and getting on a roll. I also got into the shop right after morning chores—no Angus-and-Eva drop-off. Vince did better focusing on the couple of jobs a day. And I didn’t feel like a tyrant.
Well, except for the times I nagged him about the parts. True, we had a very loose system forkeeping track—maybe no system at all. We’d never really needed one. But now that we were busy, I was trying to stay on top of it. Vince seemed to have no idea what he used.
I’d stand there looking at the shelves and ask him, “How many brake assemblies did you go through yesterday?” Or, “Wasn’t there another roll of Teflon cable? Did you take a box of twenty-seven-inch tubes outside?”
For the first time in his life he couldn’t come up with a short answer. He barely answered at all. He’d say, “No. Uh, no. I don’t think I used that.” But he sounded more like he was asking a question.
I had no time to go back through orders checking and rechecking. Not with so many repairs still waiting. My strategy was to go forward—with my brother Vince, the spaced-out bike-mechanic genius.
I kept telling myself it was okay. I was getting an earlier start now, and I was even setting myself up with the parts the night before.
Who’s the genius?
“In the zone,” I said to myself. I fired up thecompressor and hissed air into three tires in a row. “Oh yeah!”
Suddenly Lil was at my elbow.
“What?” I said.
And don’t bother me about the shop being too full of bikes when we’re having a good morning here and I’m perfectly in charge…
“I want that,” she said. She pointed to the compressor and gave me an only slightly apologetic look.
“Don’t let her have it!” Vince warned from the paddock door. “She’ll flatten it with the sledge and glue it to the barn.” He had a point. Lil thought everything on the planet had something to do with her art. Things went missing, then turned up sort of re-created
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