It was New Year's Day, the first of January, 1990. I had a strong feeling this year was going to be mine. Four more gacha spins were waiting on me eventually, and if things went according to plan, I'd likely be graduating high school by the end of this year.
I still didn't have my whole future mapped out in detail, mostly because I already knew, without much doubt, that I'd end up successful in whatever field I eventually chose to pursue.
Georgie had finished up the Chevy truck and sold it for nineteen hundred dollars, handling the entire process himself from start to finish, fixing it up and closing the sale. He'd put in serious hours over the last stretch of break while I mostly coasted, taking it easy.
He handed the whole amount over to me without hesitation, and the fact that he didn't even bring up why I got to keep a bike out of this while he walked away with nothing told me everything about how much he actually trusted me.
I took the cash, counted out nine hundred dollars, and handed it straight back to him. He looked genuinely surprised.
"That's roughly what my bike ended up costing," I told him. "You didn't get anything for yourself out of this one, so this part's yours."
"I'd rather put it back into the business. What am I even supposed to do with it?" Georgie asked.
"Just save it for a rainy day, future dates, or when you want something like a car or a bike. Soggy pants," I told him, not particularly interested in discussing it further.
Georgie just nodded, a little irritated, and pocketed the money without much more fuss. Between the two of us, once I ran the numbers in my head, we were sitting on seventy-five hundred dollars total, give or take. We'd already pulled four hundred out of that for Christmas gifts, a few extra parts for the truck, and a handful of smaller odds and ends along the way.
Anyway, today also marked the last day of winter break, which meant I still had one more conversation to have with my parents before school started back up.
The last few days had mostly consisted of me driving the bike in slow circles around the block under Dad's supervision, whenever the opportunity came up. Mom had been nervous about the whole thing at first, though I'd managed, somehow, to talk her down enough to let it happen regularly.
This particular afternoon, Dad asked if he could borrow the keys to my bike, and I handed them over without a second thought. He took it for a slow loop around the block, and the grin on his face when he came back was something else entirely, the kind of pure, uncomplicated joy I didn't get to see from him all that often. Knowing my bike was the reason behind that smile felt good.
Mom wandered out onto the porch to watch, and Dad rolled to a stop right in front of her, leaning over the handlebars just far enough to deliver some ridiculously cheesy line about how she was still the only ride that ever really got his heart racing. I nearly gagged where I stood.
Ever since the whole scene with Meemaw's recipe and Mom actually taking Dad's side for once, the two of them had been noticeably more affectionate around the house, trading smiles across the dinner table, exchanging looks that made the rest of us kids collectively uncomfortable.
I supposed it was sweet, in its own way, even if I still had to physically look elsewhere half the time.
"Hey, Mom, why don't you ride along with Dad?" I said. I'd added a small pillion seat to the back of the bike a few days earlier, a removable setup meant mainly for whenever I wanted to take Helen along for a ride somewhere.
It had honestly slipped my mind entirely until Georgie pointed out that my bike was apparently a chick magnet, though nobody had actually figured out where the chicks were supposed to sit.
"Me? No, that's dangerous," Mom said, though I could see the flicker of real interest behind her protest. I pushed a little harder, and Dad backed me up.
"Mary, hop on already," he said.
So the two of them rode off together, Mom half laughing and half terrified at the same time. Dad accelerated a touch too eagerly right out of the gate, and my bike, which ran considerably stronger than any standard 250cc had any business running, surged forward hard enough that Mom's arms shot around Dad's waist and held on for dear life.
It picked up speed faster than it should have, riding smoother than it should have too. Whatever top speed this thing was actually capable of now, it wasn't something that should have been possible with stock parts under the hood. My skill, evidently, was more than a little overpowered. I made a mental note to actually run some proper tests on it later, once I had the chance to figure out its real limits.
A few minutes later, they came rolling back into the driveway.
"So, how'd you like it?" I asked, looking between the two of them.
"Good. Real good," Dad said, grinning ear to ear.
"It was okay," Mom said, though her cheeks were still flushed pink from the ride.
"So, I could drive it to school, then?" I asked, taking my shot while the mood was still good.
Dad kept right on smirking, while Mom just looked at him, tired.
"Told you, Mary, he'd ask eventually," Dad said. Mom sighed. My eyes went wide. I'd genuinely thought I was being subtle about the whole thing, but apparently a dad's a dad.
"Your mom gets the final say on this one," Dad said, and I turned my full attention to Mom, pulling out my best pleading, puppy-dog expression.
"Charlie, why do you always have to work me like this? I know full well I can't actually stop you, since you'll find a way regardless of what I say. Look at how much time you already spend on that thing," Mom said, still perched behind Dad, reaching over to rest a warm hand against my cheek.
"So yes, you can ride it to school. But you have to promise me you won't do anything reckless on it. Be responsible. And you'll come to church with me every Sunday. That's my condition," Mom said.
"But Mom," I complained.
"No buts. Either that, or no bike," Mom said, final.
"Ugh, fine. But you're getting Georgie to come to church too. I'm not suffering through that alone," I told her. I figured I'd find some way around the actual church part eventually, maybe embarrass the pastor, or embarrass the family enough that they'd stop wanting to bring me along in the first place, but at least I had the permission locked down for now.
Mom had been noticeably more lenient the last few days, and I wasn't about to let that particular window close without taking full advantage of it. All things considered, this counted as a win.
The next morning I woke up and got straight into my workout. Chest day, my favorite. I made a mental note to pick up some heavier weights soon, since I'd finally outgrown what we currently had sitting in the garage. Georgie tagged along some mornings too.
That first morning back, I rode the bike over to Helen's place before school, helmet tucked under one arm, feeling genuinely excited to see her reaction. I'd called ahead to let her know I was coming, though she'd clearly assumed I meant riding over with Kevin, not on my own bike.
She stepped outside already dressed for school, took one look at the bike sitting in her driveway, and stopped dead in her tracks.
"You actually finished it," she said, circling it slowly, clearly impressed despite herself. The last time she'd seen it, it had still been in complete shambles.
"Finished it, tuned it, and made it mine," I said. "Figured I'd give you the first real ride."
"On this? Are you sure it's safe?" she asked, eyeing it with a mix of excitement and hesitation.
"Maybe, but we will find out together" I said, holding out the spare helmet.
She took it, though not without a look that said she still wasn't entirely convinced.
"If I die, I'm haunting you…," she said, climbing on behind me and wrapping her arms around my middle.
"Don't worry, we'll die together. You won't even be a lonely ghost" I said.
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" she said, laughing despite herself.
I glanced up toward her house and caught what looked like her dad watching us from an upstairs window, so I got the bike started quickly before he had the chance to come out and put a stop to the whole thing. I handed her the helmet, told her to hold on, and kicked the engine to life. Man, I loved this feeling.
I felt her arms tighten a little the moment we picked up speed, her laughter turning into something closer to a shriek as we rounded the first corner.
"Charlie!" she yelled into my ear.
"You're fine! I promise!" I called back, grinning behind my visor where she couldn't see it.
By the time we pulled up outside school, her hair was a wind-blown mess and her cheeks were flushed from the cold, though she was grinning just as wide as I was.
"Okay," she admitted, pulling off her helmet. "That was actually really fun."
"Told you," I said, feeling more than a little proud of myself.
Medford was a small enough town that most people drove cars and trucks, and a motorcycle wasn't exactly common around here. My custom bike drew stares the whole way in, heads turning every time it passed.
The second I pulled into the parking lot, a handful of guys, a few of them from Georgie's football team, had already wandered over to get a closer look.
"Cooper, is this actually yours?" one of them asked, crouching down to inspect the custom foot pegs I'd welded on myself.
"All mine," I said, trying not to sound too pleased with myself and failing completely.
"Man, this thing looks fire," another kid said, running a hand along the tank.
"That's the idea," I said, shooting him a look that made it clear touching wasn't part of the deal.
Tom showed up a minute later, shouldering his way through the small crowd with a grin already spreading across his face.
"Cooper strikes again," he said, clapping me on the back. "First the Maverick, now this. You're turning into a legend around here."
"Just a hobby," I said, though I couldn't deny the attention felt pretty good. If nothing else, showing up on something this cool couldn't hurt business going forward.
"A hobby that gets girls picked up on a custom bike," Tom said, nodding toward Helen, who rolled her eyes but didn't bother denying it.
"Don't encourage him," she said, though she was smiling.
Kevin showed up shortly after, whistling low the second he laid eyes on the bike.
"You actually did it. Rode it here and everything," he said.
"Told you I would," I said.
"Didn't think your mom would actually let you," Kevin said.
"Took some negotiating," I admitted. "I'm apparently going to church every Sunday for the foreseeable future now."
"Worth it?" Kevin asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Ask me again after a few sermons," I said, and he laughed.
The first bell rang eventually, scattering the small crowd back toward the building, though a few stragglers lingered behind just long enough to get one more look at the bike before heading inside. I gave it one last glance myself, locking the fork out of habit even though I doubted anyone around here would actually try anything.
I made my way to the library, same as always. Today's target was language. It struck me that in an era without Google Translate sitting in everyone's pocket, I'd probably need to actually learn a language properly if I ever wanted to read anything from another culture down the line and who doesn't want to be a polyglot. It would be easier with gifts.
Spanish seemed like the logical place to start, which naturally got me thinking about Selena. Maybe church on Sundays wouldn't be the worst thing in the world after all.
"Morning, Mrs. Hutchkins. How was your break?" I asked, walking up to the front desk with a smile.
She looked exactly as tired and worn down by life as ever.
"Good. Dressed up all eleven of my cats as reindeer for Christmas. Was fun," she said, a flicker of real enthusiasm slipping through despite herself. It struck me a second later that she'd spent her entire break with nothing but eleven cats for company, and something about that left me feeling a little sorry for her.
"Anyway, could you point me toward the Spanish section? I want to start learning it," I asked.
And just like that, my regular routine picked back up right where it had left off, me tucked away in the library, working through whatever subject happened to catch my interest that week. I figured I'd need to pick up some audio lessons eventually to actually work on my pronunciation, but for now, I was content just building up the theory first.
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AN: In canan mary and George fought a lot and almost discussed divorce because of the brisket thing. But i changed that.
Anyways. Any suggestions or ideas that you have. Do message in the comments.