We walked out of the shop with the new moped in hand. Bobby Gene held the door open, Styx rolled it through and I carried the helmets. The Grasshopper came with two. We’d bought the third, even though Styx said, “Nah, I’m good.” Mom had drilled bike safety lessons so far into us that we couldn’t imagine it any other way.
“That was so amazing,” I crowed.
“I can’t believe that worked!” Bobby Gene tried on a helmet. Slapped it, laughing.
Styx high-fived each of us. “We make a good team.”
We pushed the Grasshopper around the corner to the gas station and filled it up. Paid fireworks cash for our two gallons and bought three bottles of strawberry milk while we were at it. We were feeling flush.
Styx sat straddling the moped as we chugged the drinks. A major escalator transaction works up a powerful thirst. We tossed the empty bottles away.
“Hop on,” Styx said. He scooted forward, clipping on his helmet. The seat was long.
I put on mine, too, and jumped on behind him. Bobby Gene watched.
“We can all fit,” Styx said. “Let’s take her for a spin.”
“Right here on the street?”
Styx laughed. “Where did you think we would ride?”
“I don’t know…in the country somewhere?”
I slid off the seat. “You go in the middle.” Bobby Gene climbed on. The engine hummed to life beneath us.
We buzzed along the country roads forever. Every second was exhilarating—better than a bike, better than a car. We were flying through a wind of our own making. Past, present, future, gliding around us.
Finally Styx pulled over at the edge of a soybean field. We could see for miles in all directions. We hopped off and unclipped our helmets.
“That was amazing.” My cheeks were windburned. Bobby Gene seemed to have forgotten about us being thieves.
Styx hadn’t. He pointed across the field to a pair of buildings.
Bobby Gene recognized it before I did. “Mr. Pike’s place.”
“You said, to keep hanging, we had to make it right,” Styx reminded us. “Best I can think is, we walk up and ask him what else he wants in payment.”
Bobby Gene nodded. “Yeah.”
“If it’s like I say, and it’s fine already, then we’re settled. If it’s like you think, and he’s mad, we still got cash to make amends.”
“Yes. Brilliant,” I said.
We left the moped in the middle of the field. No sense calling attention to it, Styx said. We walked over to Pike’s Place.
Knocked.
Nothing.
Styx knocked again. We waited.
“Guess he’s not here,” Bobby Gene said. “Should we leave a note?” We didn’t have any paper.
Styx was a mix of disappointed and relieved. “Just as well, I guess.”
“We could try again tomorrow,” I suggested. “Another afternoon ride?”
“Or maybe it’s a sign,” Styx said. “That we’re done here.”
“Tomorrow,” Bobby Gene said.
But Styx gazed wistfully at the small house.
“Hey,” he said. “Whatever happens, at least you can look back and remember me for doing at least one thing right. Trying, anyway.” He offered a lopsided smile, then struck up a candy cigarette for the walk back to the moped.
“Lots of right things,” I said. We trooped along through the soybeans.
Styx, from that day, lives in my mind like a series of snapshots. Styx, by the roadside, straddling the bike, with joy stamped across his face. Styx, gazing across the field, looking nervous and kind of scared. Styx on Pike’s porch, thoughtful and still. Hands clutched in his pockets.
I can see it all now.
That day, we had no idea.
The second ride was even better than the first. Styx parked the moped in the woods behind his house. “I’m the one who can drive it, for now,” he said. “Okay to park it here?”
We nodded. We sure couldn’t show the Grasshopper around our house. We started toward his house with him, where we’d left our bikes in the morning.
“Let’s go again tomorrow,” we said.
Styx’s feet got kinda shifty. “Oh, sure. Yeah. Let’s play it by ear.”
That was weird. We saw each other every day. Why would tomorrow be any different?
“Sure,” I said. “I mean, we could go fishing instead, if you wanted.” But that would be crazy, I wanted to add. We had the Grasshopper!
“Listen, guys,” Styx said. “This has been great, you know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah,” we agreed. The Grasshopper was everything we’d hoped for. We could go anywhere. Do anything.
Styx reached out and smacked us each on the shoulder. “Whatever happens, just remember: Y’all are cool. And I said so.”
“Sure,” we said.
Styx fidgeted with the moped handlebars like he wanted to say something more. It was strange. Usually we said “see you later” and took off in our own directions.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s nothing,” Styx said.
“Okay. See you tomorrow.” We waved.
Styx gazed at the Grasshopper. “Now that we’ve got it, I guess I—I mean, we can take off anytime we want, right?”
“Absolutely. So…usual time?”
Styx paused. Then he grinned. “Sure thing.”