Ring Of Fire

You might think this is where I hook up with Curly.  That would not be possible.  Since the eighth grade, I have been madly in love with Ronald Eugene McIntire.  Aside from the times I almost had to kill him, that has never changed.

And, I don’t smoke.  Like Daddy, I prefer white lightning.  So does Ronnie but he also likes weed.  And I like that look in his eye when he gets high.  I knew what to do with Curly’s gift.

Before I met Curly, the Governors were strangers to me.  They kept to themselves when they were in Johnson City.  Aside from whatever else they might be doing, they were legitimate businessmen.  They owned many of the vending machines in the area.  Sometimes I’d see one of them in line at the bank, holding sacks of rolled coins.

After I got to know Curly, all of the Governors knew me.  One thing about bikers, they each have a “road” name.  They thought my nickname was pretty cool and some of them came up with their own.  Gearhead called me Triple T.  I’d hear, “What’s up, Wrecker Angel?”  when I ran across Whiplash.  My favorite was Curly’s name for me.  He just called me Miss Toni.

Every now and then, one of them would slip me an envelope.  I didn’t care what Daddy or anyone in Johnson City thought.  The Governors were okay in my book.

The next summer, disaster struck Wells Salvage and Towing.  I was asleep in the office on wrecker call.  We were in the middle of a storm.  A bolt of lightning struck close and the thunder woke me from a dead sleep.  I had almost settled back down when I jerked upright.  I smelled smoke.  The building was on fire.

I called 911, then called Daddy, then got the fire extinguisher.  The back wall was burning.  Daddy got there and grabbed the garden hose.  Long minutes passed and the fire engines arrived.  They put out the fire.

But the damage had been done.  The wall was badly burned.  Smoke had turned everything inside the office black.  The interior was ruined.  Grandpa had built the office 60 years ago out of salvaged materials.  With today’s building codes, repairing it would not be practical.  We would have to tear it down and rebuild.

We had insurance, but that stuff is expensive and there was a high deductible.  When the agent told Daddy how much we would get, he said, “That will barely cover the materials.”  I looked at him and said, “I guess you and I are gonna have to do this ourselves.”  

We’d taken automobile engines apart and put them back together many times.  The thought of us building a new office sounded like fun.  But we didn’t do it by ourselves.  

The Harleys made their unique sound as they pulled into the yard.  Curly and Gearhead got off their bikes.

I introduced them to Daddy.  He looked kind of leery but he’s not afraid of anyone.  Curly spoke.  “We heard about the fire so we stopped by and see if there is anything we can do.”  He looked over the building. “Damn, that looks bad.”  

He turned to Daddy.  “Mr. Wells, I owe your daughter a favor.  I’d be glad to repay it.  If you need any help, we’ve got plenty of muscle.”

Daddy said “No!” right away but I grabbed him by the arm and turned on my best little girl charm.  “Come on Daddy, give these fellows a chance.  I don’t care what people say about them.  I trust their word.  And there are a bunch of them.  There’s just two of us.”

There is only one person on the planet George Andrew Wells can’t say no to and that is his tow trucking daughter.  He looked at me, then at Curly.  “I can’t pay you for the labor.”  

Curly said, “Why don’t we do this?  We’ll keep track of how many hours we spend.  You’ve got a repair shop and a salvage yard.  When our bikes need work you can pay us back that way.  How about it?”

With a crew of bikers, the old office was quickly demolished and a new one built.  I even got Ronnie to put down his guitar long enough to pitch in.  We did a good job and Daddy’s attitude toward the bikers changed as the construction progressed.  What someone looks like on the outside doesn’t dictate the person on the inside.  

Daddy lightened up and before we finished he knew each of the bikers by name.  They started calling him Big Daddy.  We had a party to celebrate the opening of the new office.  Big Daddy spent all day running the grill.

Making friends with bikers can come at a cost.  The Chamber of Commerce types in Baldwin County looked down their noses at the Governors.  Daddy and I found out about guilt by association.  Some people flat out told me, they wouldn’t do business with us any more.  

But one door opens when another closes.  Daddy hadn’t worked that much on motorcycles, but he took to it quickly.  The Governors liked the work he did and spread the word.  Soon, cyclists from all over Baldwin county were coming to us when they needed parts or service.  

Daddy found out about a junkyard, with a lot of motorcycles, that had shut down.  Four semi trailers full of scrapped motorcycles and boxes of parts showed up a few weeks later.  Wells Salvage and Towing had branched out.

Life went on.  I got to know Curly a little better, and Carlene.  Curly’s old lady.  She was a skinny little thing and a real hoot.  You’d want her on your side in a fight, though.  Despite her size, she had an aura around her, like, you better not f**k with this one.

Ronnie finally made good on his promise to quit drinking.  We got married after he’d been sober a year.  I was 21 and he was 25.  Daddy and I did a lot of crying that day.  It was Ronnie’s idea that we get married on May 10th.  My mother’s birthday.

The Governors escorted us all the way from the chapel to the Gulf Shores State Park hotel, where we honeymooned in a room overlooking the Gulf of Mexico.  Ronnie and I appreciated the envelope Curly handed me before they rode off.