I checked my watch; right now she and her kids were boarding a plane that would take them to O'Hare, where they'd transfer to a flight into Columbus.  Tanya was going to pick them up at the airport and drive them back to Cedar Hill, where they'd stay with us for a week or so, until my sister found her own place.  I was looking forward to having my niece and nephew around the house; their being nine and seven, respectively, would give Tanya and me a chance to rehearse being parents.

I felt a sudden twinge in my nether regions and looked up.  "Oh, hell."

Cletus laughed.  "Let me guess—you gotta make a pause for the cause?"

"Two Cokes within an hour in hot weather."

"That'd be a 'yes' then?"

"Uh-huh."

"I hate to spread even more sunshine over your day, but we're a good twenty minutes away from the garage, so you can either try to hold it or…"  He reached under the seat and pulled out a plastic, hand-held urinal, complete with snap-on cap, the kind they use for bed-ridden patients in hospitals.

I looked at the thing and blinked.  "You're not serious?"

"I'm not the one who's gotta whiz like a diabetic racehorse.  I also don't much embarrass easy.  For the record, I like women and don't have any you-should-pardon-the-expression fetishes, and if you're worried about maintaining your dignity, you pretty much gave that up when you climbed into that abomination back there."  He shook the urinal in front of my face.  "I promise not to look."

"Why in hell do you even have that thing?"

"You think you're the first guy I ever picked up who's had to go after being stuck on the side of the road?  Don't look at me like that, it's been sanitized."  He shook it one more time.  "It's calling your name, hear it?"

"Anyone ever tell you that you're an evil man?"

"I get a lot of complaints about that.  Especially from the fellows who play Pinochle with me.  Did I mention I cheat?"

I took the urinal and popped off the cap, then looked at Cletus.

"What?" he said.  "You need me to talk you through it?"

I turned a little to the side, unzipped my fly, and did what needed doing.

"Make sure that cap's on tight when you're done."

I did.  "What do I do with it now?"

Cletus looked at me.  "No offense, but I sure as hell ain't gonna hold it for you—this friendly roadside service only goes so far."

I started to say something, then blinked from a startling, blinding glint of light in the rear-view mirror.

"Talk about your blasts from the past," said Cletus.  "Get a load of this."

The twin silver butter dishes drove past.  I wondered how anyone could have missed the same exit twice—unless the driver had been having my kind of luck today.  This time when the little girl looked at me she neither smiled nor waved.  She seemed tired, hot, and bored.  I hoped they could find their exit this time, for her sake.

4.  Coincidence, Be It Meaningful or Not

Before we'd even gotten in sight of the garage, Cletus—after pontificating on the glories of Pinochle, letterboxed movies, good books, and women who had "…a little meat on their bones…"—informed me of the following:  "I'm not saying I can't fix it, understand—it'd take a couple of days, probably—but whatever I did would be:  A) expensive, and, B) really, really temporary.  I'm talking a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound, got it?  At best, I could slap that thing back together good enough to maybe, maybe get you another two-hundred-fifty, three hundred miles farther along, but it'd just crap out on you again, and the next time it goes, it's gonna be a helluva lot worse than it was this time, and it's gonna be permanent.  So I'm sorry to tell you, but unless you absolutely insist on it 'til you're blue in the face, I will not send you on your way in a car that I know isn't going to get you home."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes.  "There any motels near the truck stop?"

"There's a nice one that don't cost too much and they give discounts to my garage customers."

"What about the car?"

"They don't allow cars to stay in the rooms so the discount doesn't apply.  I see that once again my Mark Twain-like humor has flummoxed you.  Tell you what, give me your brother-in-law's number and I'll call him and make arrangements for the burial.  He can either sell it to me cheap for what parts are still working, or pay my appalling storage prices while it sits in the garage waiting for someone to come down here and haul it back to his lot.  Besides, I'd like to say a few words to him about the quality of automobiles he's pawning off.  As far as what you owe me goes, call it thirty dollars for the tow."

"There any place I can rent a decent car?"

"Not in the immediate vicinity, but we're not all that far from Jefferson City and you can rent one there easily enough.  I'd offer to take you on over right now but today's busy as hell.  Be more than glad to drive you there in the morning before I open the garage, though; otherwise you'll have to beg a ride off one of the truckers coming through and I wouldn't recommend that—not that they're bad fellows, most of them are top-drawer, but you don't strike me as the trucker-befriending type.  My guess is country music has never insulted your stereo's speakers."

I was hot, I was tired, I was nine-squared levels of aggravated, and—despite the sandwich and carrots—still hungry; I didn't feel like dealing with any more crises today.  I told Cletus I'd take him up on his offer.  I'd get something to eat at the truck stop, then check into the motel and call Tanya.

"A man with a plan," said Cletus as we pulled into the garage.

I was happy to see that the motel was also adjacent to the truck stop; at least there'd be no worries about crossing the highway.  If I got lost, I could always use their flagpole for a marker; it was about thirty feet tall and was currently flying the biggest American flag I'd ever seen.  Right now the flag was caught in a crosswind and was snapping back and twisting around like it was trying to bite itself on the ass.

"I'm not exactly the sharpest tack in the box first thing in the morning," said Cletus, pulling a business card from one of his pockets, "so in case I forget, or if something happens and I gotta have one of my boys drive you over instead, take this and make sure you call me once you get home."  He wrote something on the back.  "This here's my home number, call this one if you get in after nine in the evening.  I'm usually up until about midnight, midnight-thirty Ohio time.  Otherwise, call the garage number on the front."

"Mind if I ask why?"

"I'm a worrier, is what I am.  My girlfriend—Muriel, she's the gal who runs the restaurant—tells me I worry too much, but personally, between you and me, I think she finds it kind of erotic.  Plus it's good for business, being concerned that the folks whose cars you fix are happy with the service."  He smiled as I took the card from him.  "Besides, Mr. Mark, you strike me as a damn nice fellow and I've enjoyed our little adventures in Kerouac-land today."

"Me, too."

I tucked his card into my shirt pocket and we shook hands.  The last thing I'd expected today was to make a new friend.

I unloaded the four medium-sized boxes of toys, knickknacks, and family keepsakes that my sister (not trusting airline baggage-handlers) had asked me to take back to Ohio, grabbed my suitcase, made sure I had everything else I needed, then gave the car one last good solid kick before heading toward the garage's rest room to dispose of something.