Grinder’s Surprise
Grinder’s pickup truck rolled to a stop and he leaned over to unlatch the door so I could climb in. My head pounded from the previous night’s New Year’s Eve party.
“Mornin’ sunshine,” he said around the cigar stub sticking out of his beard. His voice rattled around the cab like gravel in a tin can as I sat down. “You gotta slam it,” he added. I yanked the door shut and my headache went to a whole new level. Too early for this, and too damn cold.
My hair hurt. “You wanna tell me where the hell we’re going?” I asked as we turned out of the addition. His phone call had been brief, saying only that he was picking me up in an hour and I better be ready. I knew better than to say no.
He glanced at me over his shades. “You don’t remember our New Year’s resolution?”
A wave of panic kicked my heartbeat up few notches as I searched through mental fog. This was not good. Grinder’s twisted sense of humor was legendary. My silence gave the answer.
He laughed and the rally pins on his leather vest danced in the sunlight. He pointed to a Styrofoam cup in the console and said, “I stopped at the donut shop. Have some coffee and think about it.”
I sipped hot brew and tried to kick-start some brain cells. What resolution? Yesterday I’d been ready to kill something after spending the week chasing down yet another dead lead to Pop’s old Harley. It was still just as gone as when it disappeared last month. Other than that, my mind was vapor-locked.
We slowed after a few miles and turned in at my brother’s mini-storage business. Grinder punched in the entry code. The office stood dark, no one around. We drove to the back row and stopped next to a storage unit.
“Gotta get a few things first,” he said and stepped out. “Gimme a hand.”
The overhead door rolled up before we got to it. My brother Jake clapped me on the shoulder and turned to pull a linen sheet covering something behind him. A Shovelhead, same year as Pop’s. Same color, too. Only this one looked showroom fresh.
“Sweet," I said. "Where’d you steal that, a museum?”
He just grinned and said, “Happy New Year, bro,” and tossed me the keys. Mom's high school class ring hung alongside the worn-down key. Pop kept it on there after... I looked at Jake, then at Grinder. Both had shit-eating grins. The motorcycle. The very one the old man left to me last year, that’d gone missing a month ago. Except it had been restored to like-new.
“We stole it, dumbass,” Jake said. “Grinder had his buddy in the sheriff’s office keep you busy looking for it. Oh, and you owe Grinder big for this, by the way.”
Uh-oh. The New Year's resolution.
Grinder spoke up. “You remember it now? You stood on the pool table and hollered you were gonna, how'd you put it? Oh yeah, you're gonna..." He spread his gorilla arms wide. "Ride at least 1,000 miles every month this year, come hell or high water." He folded his arms across his chest and looked thoughtful for a bit. Then, "Tell you what. You do that, and we'll call it even.”
Jake handed me a set of leathers. “Suit up. We’re going on a polar bear run.”
Grinder’s pickup truck rolled to a stop and he leaned over to unlatch the door so I could climb in. My head pounded from the previous night’s New Year’s Eve party.
“Mornin’ sunshine,” he said around the cigar stub sticking out of his beard. His voice rattled around the cab like gravel in a tin can as I sat down. “You gotta slam it,” he added. I yanked the door shut and my headache went to a whole new level. Too early for this, and too damn cold.
My hair hurt. “You wanna tell me where the hell we’re going?” I asked as we turned out of the addition. His phone call had been brief, saying only that he was picking me up in an hour and I better be ready. I knew better than to say no.
He glanced at me over his shades. “You don’t remember our New Year’s resolution?”
A wave of panic kicked my heartbeat up few notches as I searched through mental fog. This was not good. Grinder’s twisted sense of humor was legendary. My silence gave the answer.
He laughed and the rally pins on his leather vest danced in the sunlight. He pointed to a Styrofoam cup in the console and said, “I stopped at the donut shop. Have some coffee and think about it.”
I sipped hot brew and tried to kick-start some brain cells. What resolution? Yesterday I’d been ready to kill something after spending the week chasing down yet another dead lead to Pop’s old Harley. It was still just as gone as when it disappeared last month. Other than that, my mind was vapor-locked.
We slowed after a few miles and turned in at my brother’s mini-storage business. Grinder punched in the entry code. The office stood dark, no one around. We drove to the back row and stopped next to a storage unit.
“Gotta get a few things first,” he said and stepped out. “Gimme a hand.”
The overhead door rolled up before we got to it. My brother Jake clapped me on the shoulder and turned to pull a linen sheet covering something behind him. A Shovelhead, same year as Pop’s. Same color, too. Only this one looked showroom fresh.
“Sweet," I said. "Where’d you steal that, a museum?”
He just grinned and said, “Happy New Year, bro,” and tossed me the keys. Mom's high school class ring hung alongside the worn-down key. Pop kept it on there after... I looked at Jake, then at Grinder. Both had shit-eating grins. The motorcycle. The very one the old man left to me last year, that’d gone missing a month ago. Except it had been restored to like-new.
“We stole it, dumbass,” Jake said. “Grinder had his buddy in the sheriff’s office keep you busy looking for it. Oh, and you owe Grinder big for this, by the way.”
Uh-oh. The New Year's resolution.
Grinder spoke up. “You remember it now? You stood on the pool table and hollered you were gonna, how'd you put it? Oh yeah, you're gonna..." He spread his gorilla arms wide. "Ride at least 1,000 miles every month this year, come hell or high water." He folded his arms across his chest and looked thoughtful for a bit. Then, "Tell you what. You do that, and we'll call it even.”
Jake handed me a set of leathers. “Suit up. We’re going on a polar bear run.”
. The only thing that threw me was that I don't know why the main character regrets the New Years resolution. Is he thinking it's going to be really boring to ride 1000 miles a month? Is it going to take him away from his work and family? Is it dangerous because he's going on a "polar bear run" (whatever that is)? I think if you explore this a little more, then the ending won't feel so flat.