Page 70 of Until Landon
“I know how you think. That’s where.”
“Why would I want to drive? I’m tryingnotto be your chauffeur.”
He looks a little surprised to hear the truth, and chuckles.
“Good. I need to test the ankle. The hip doesn’t concern me as much. Here we are.”
The old garage looks sturdy, despite its age. He slides the wide door back to reveal a black Chevy Silverado.
“There she is.”
“What year?”
“2007. I don’t put much mileage on her now. Most times, I’m on the Fat Boy.”
“She looks great.”
Dolly waits for my lift up, before I get in the passenger side. She has come to trust me. Ronnie opens his door and positions himself.
“I need to go slow.”
“Take your time.”
Raising his right leg, and grasping the window’s edge, he lifts his body onto the seat. I hold my breath.
“There. Mission accomplished.”
“Yay!” I add applause.
I get a pissy look and a head shake.
“You love it,” I say, rejecting his rejection.
He starts the engine and checks the mirrors. A few taps of the foot on the brakes and accelerator, tests the waters.
“Here we go.”
There is a slight hesitation in finding the right amount of pressure to put on the healing ankle. Too light, too light.
“A little more,” I say.
When his lead foot connects with the pedal, we go flying backwards. I scream my reaction.
“Whoa!”
“Don’t get excited. You’re okay,” he says, embarrassed to have listened to me. With the foot off the gas, the truck comes to a stop.
Laughter bursts from us, and Dolly starts barking.
“She’s talking!” he says, as surprised as I am to hear the sound.
“Oh little girl, you’re so…”
He interrupts my praise.
“Don’t overwhelm her! She might revert! Just pet her head.”
“Christ! Ya, mein heir!”
