Page 2 of Hot Doggin'
It isn’t, but I know what he meant. He’s had enough, and so have I. “Come on, I’ve got somewhere better in mind.”
Bikes of every make and model are lined up outside Spokes and Smokes. McCormick straddles his Harley Super Glide, and with his prosthetic leg, nudges the kickstand and fires her up. He wore his patriotic leg today, airbrushed with the stars and stripes of the flag. It’s decorated with the signatures of his brothers-in-arms and fellow vets inSharpie. McCormick usually wears shorts, because he never gives a fuck about showing off his leg. It’s just part of who he is. Take it or leave it.
He’s like that with everything. His personality is louder than his orange hair. He has a big mouth and an even bigger heart. I can’t understand how someone like him, who lacks total common sense or self-preservation instincts, has made it this far in life.
Why had the Army given this man a gun and grenades?
Maybe I look at him with rose-colored glasses because he’s my best friend, my brother to the soul. As much as he aggravates the fuck out of me, I still love him right down to my core.
“Follow me,” I call, pulling out in front of him.
We ride for nearly thirty minutes before pulling off the highway. If you blink, you’ll miss the narrow gravel drive that turns off the road. We park and walk the short distance to an outcropping of large, smooth boulders.
”Fuck, you can see the whole damn valley from here!” McCormick snaps off his sunglasses, taking in the view. The setting sun paints the sky in a wash of pastel colors: baby blue and pale pink, yellows and oranges, and even lavender. It’s gonna be a beautiful sunset tonight.
“This is my spot.”
“You have a spot? How come you never told me?”
He sounds genuinely offended and I laugh. He can’t imagine that I don’t share every fucking thing with him. “I’ll let you borrow it,” I wink, laughing again when he scowls.
We stretch out on the rocks, and I breathe out a deep sigh, settling in to watch the sun set over the Ridge. Nothing takes my breath like these mountains. They remind me how small I am in the grand scheme of things, and how Mother Nature always has the last word.
Beside me, McCormick breathes out a similar sigh, but I know he’s just gearing up. He can’t stay quiet for long, it’s not in his nature. Unlike me. I love the quiet. My mind works so hardto hold on to recent memories, and the silence is like a balm, a break from the chaos in my head.
“How would your life be different if you hadn’t gotten hurt?”
“Jesus, Mac. That’s a loaded question. I don’t fucking know. You can bet I probably wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now.”
He frowns. “I think about that shit all the time,” he admits. “If I hadn’t lost my leg, who knows? Maybe I’d have finished out my contract, or maybe I would have died with both legs intact.”
“Who fucking cares? It don’t change a damn thing. I always figured I would be a mechanic, and that’s what I am.”
“Really? I thought that was just something you fell back on.”
“Maybe it is. What’s the difference? Growing up, all I knew how to do was work on bikes. Always imagined I would work in a garage. I’m happy with where I ended up.”
“Do you think you want to own your own garage someday?”
Cracking my knuckles, I lean back and cross one boot over my knee. “Nah. Too much responsibility.” McCormick laughs. “I can’t remember shit. I don’t think I could run a business successfully.”
“Bullshit! You can do anything,” he swears. That’s my best friend, always coming to my defense, even if it makes both of us liars.
“Yeah, but the point is, I don’t want to do it. Don’t want to come in on my day off and work. Don’t want to put up with customers’ bullshit. Don’t want to deal with the rules and regulations of running a business. I just want to go in, get my hands dirty and feel like I accomplished something by fixing the bike, and then go the fuck home. More time for this.”
The sun dips lower, partially obscured behind a mountain peak. I can feel the temperature beginning to drop and zip up my jacket.
“I thought I would be career Army.”
“Really?” I laugh, not meaning to snort.
He looks offended. “Yeah, why not? I loved that shit. I don’t know. I guess it worked out for the best. My Sergeant fucking hated me. I’d never have gotten promoted.”
I’m laughing now, I can’t help it. He’s such an ass. “Is there something you’re not doing that you want to do?”
McCormick sits around on his ass all day, waiting for me to get off work so we can ride or hang. He has a little side gig, where he helps vets qualify for disability and fill out their forms, and he makes a couple of bucks doing it, but mostly he lives off his disability pension.
“Nah, just this. Ride or die.”
