She was gone when I woke up Thursday morning. I can't say that I was disappointed, since I didn't remember anything about the night before after we left the bar. That being the case, I knew nothing had happened. Falling asleep on a woman was a little rare, but I had done it before, so I didn't go looking for a shrink.

What I did go looking for was breakfast. A chrome and glass waffle joint came to mind. I hate those chain monstrosities most days, but that morning it seemed to fit my hangover mood. After the waffle and lots of black coffee, I felt more like myself.

Back home in Monkey Junction I was on the prowl for a new home. I had looked at several houses and found them far from acceptable. They were all just plain and small, but worst of all they were mostly landlocked. Not locked away from the ocean. I accepted that since I already knew that was the required life style for at least a couple of more years. No these little houses just couldn't be renovated so that they were acceptable. There was just no room to add onto them. Even property 20 miles from the ocean was at a premium. I just couldn't justify the expense on paper.

What I could justify was another business expense. I passed a deserted motel about ten times every day. It was on the same bypassed road as my shop and showroom. The building was concrete block with a flat roof. I would have bet all my money that the roof was leaky and probably rotten. There were twenty units and the office each with a single large window and a door.

I stopped one day to take a closer look. Other than finding one small window per unit in the rear, the inspection was a waste of my time. Someone had kept the weeds down, so that the abandoned building didn't appear to be in ruins. Still it was pretty ratty looking.

The small sign in the office window had the name of a realty company and a phone number. I used my cell phone from the parking lot of the motel.

"Mabe realty," the female voice on the phone informed me.

"Good morning, I'm standing in the parking lot of an abandoned motel in Monkey Junction. Since your sign is in the window I decided to give you a call. Can you hook me up with someone who can give me the asking price please." I had expected the phone to be answered by a receptionist.

"I can do that, the price for that piece of property is 200k as is." she informed me.

"Well I own the bike shop down the street. I can tell you that it is going to be sitting there a long time at that price. Thanks for taking my call though."

"What kind of price did you have in mind?"

"I don't have one until I get a look at the interior. But I can tell you right now it isn't 200K. It wouldn't be any more than half of that, so no since wasting each other's time.

"Can't hurt to look," she suggest

Even though Wednesday night at the Holiday Inn had changed, it was till a place I visited every week. I guess I had become a creature of habit. I chose Wednesday as my one weeknight out.

I pretty much stuck to my routine even though the tourist no longer crowded the streets. Riding the bike around Wrightsville Island didn't produce nearly the calls it once had. Most of the calls I got were from people who saw my webpage. I got a lot more email than phone calls by that time.

I had been house hunting all day, so I needed the drink I ordered at the Holiday Inn's bar. Even though it was Wednesday night, the lounge was almost empty. I was about halfway through my first beer, when I heard the voice.

"Okay bike builder on your feet," I looked up into the bar mirror. I saw Jen gin standing behind me.

"I do hope this is a joke?" I suggested.

"Yes, but it always gets a man's attention.."

Tight jeans work just as well. The guy doesn't go to the bathroom and never come back nearly as often with my method." I did say it while smiling. "So how is the Holden Beach PD?"

"Boring, I want to move to a bigger town."

"Oh really, what do you have in mind, New York."

"Not that big, I was thinking Wilmington."

"You should do that," I replied.

"I just need one big bust to get noticed," she suggested.

"I can't help you."

"Too bad you aren't a big time coke dealer."

"My banker probably feels the same way." I waited in silence while she took a seat at the bar. Then I waited while she ordered a drink, which I paid for of course. "So what brings you out on the town tonight?"

"Saying goodbye to the tourist season," she replied.

"Is this a celebration, or a wake?"

"A little of both. From now until spring break, Holden Beach will be a ghost town. All the retired cops in the area, who work there in the summer, will be gone. It will be back to two officers on patrol with nothing to do but try to keep the locals from putting kitchen knives into their spouses."

"Sounds like total boredom with a shot of terror now and then," I admitted.

"Yep," she said sadly. There just didn't seem to be anything in her future but coffee and donuts until spring. She didn't need too many more donuts either.

"You should get a bicycle to fill your time. Riding up and down the beach roads would be good for you. Tune up the old heart, kind of thing," I suggested.

"You just happen to have one right?"

"Go to the downtown flea market in Wilmington on Saturday. Tell the owner that Eddie sent you. He will fix you up at flea market prices." She looked at me questioningly. I sell power bikes not pedal ones. You need to pedal around over the winter. It will be good for you."

One drink turned into five. "I'm going to check into the motel tonight. The rates are down, and I have had too much to drink." Flashing her badge might get a buy on a driving under the influence, but it wouldn't help me any. I could just hear Cindy going off on me for being arrested. "You are welcome to spend the night no strings attached."

"Do you do this often?" she asked.

"I came down for two drinks and to relax. The rest just happened, but fifty bucks for a room is better than a night in the drunk tank. The local police have nothing better to do than stop people driving home after midnight, just to be sure they aren't DWI."

"That is true, we do it in Holden Beach as well. Okay, but no tricks, I have a black belt."

"Then why aren't you wearing it?" I asked being my usual smart assed self.

The first chill, such as it was, came to Wilmington NC. a few months after I settled in. It didn't take long for me to realize that I needed a better place to live than the camper. It wasn't the space, even though I did need more of that as well, it was the air leaks that got to me. A drafty trailer in the summer was nice enough, but a drafty trailer in the winter was going to be a real SOB.

With that in mind, I began thinking about a place to settle. Even though the e-bike and moped trailer sales surprised me, I hadn't been able to laundry enough money to justify a house on the ocean. At least not one which would comfortably handle the winter weather.

My plan was to find something to buy far enough from the ocean so that it would appear that I could afford it. I also wanted something I could turn over, when I had enough cash flow, legal and ill gotten gains, to justify a ocean front place. The Marshall's witness protection detail was still watching me, so I dared not dip too deeply into my off shore cash.

"Cindy, how's my guardian angel doing?" I asked it with what I hoped was a smile in my voice.

"I have no idea, but I'm just fine. What's your problem today?" she asked.

"The weather down here is about to change hon. I need to start looking for a winter home."

"What, you want to leave where you are?"

"Not the town or the business, but it's time to get out of the trailer. I need to get into something a little more permanent."

"Why hurricane season is over and you are still there?" she had that twinkle in her voice so that I knew she was smiling. "You should be good till next summer."

"It has to do with comfort. After all I'm not getting any younger."

"Thirty-five is not old."

"Thirty-three," I said to correct her.

"So what do you need from me."

"I need you to arrange the financing on something that I can afford."

"Eddie, you have been in business three months, there is nothing you can afford without our stipend."

"Yes but I can't explain that income to a bank, but you can."

"Find something and send me the numbers. I will see what I can do to get you a loan with a low or no down payment."

"I might have to arrange some kind of deal with you for the down payment as well." I didn't have to at all, but I really did want it to look legitimate. I didn't want Cindy asking questions either.

I figured the thing to do was to buy a house through the Marshall service, then have my own little company buy up the mortgage and just pretend to pay it. I could buy something inexpensive and then have it renovated for cash, I could get a nice house with a mortgage that looked affordable on paper. Yes it was a shell game but I didn't mind a little misdirection I had made a living doing that. I new how to manipulate the shells, but II had learned how to make the shells in the Federal Prison Camp.

I made a mental note to always come to the Motel on Wednesday nights from that time forward. I asked several of the ladies to dance until I found one who agreed. She was a very well taken care of blonde on the sunny side of forty.

We actually had fun. A few dances a couple of drinks and a walk on the beach. I didn't pressure her to have sex but it happened anyway. I have no idea why. Maybe for her it was part of her beach experience. For me it was just part of the experience of life. Food, shelter, and sex it was all part of life, as far as I was concerned. One was no more important than the other.

One thing that was pretty scary was keeping an eye on the alarm clock. The child care ended at midnight, so I had to be gone. The drive back to the camper in the middle of the night was no fun, so I moved the Wednesday night idea to a slightly lower position, on my things to do list.

I didn't have much to do, since I was winding down my bike building until I got a feel for the winter demand. I didn't mind the break from building, except that I got bored easily. I spent some time surf fishing and drinking coffee on the pier.

I began to notice an increase in the number of scooters around. Those didn't belong to summer tourist who had rented them for the week, but to locals getting too and from work. More and more I noticed them trying to come up with ways to carry cargo on the scooters.

My little bike power trailer would be a natural, if the motor and batteries were removed. One could transport a week's worth of groceries easily. Since the speeds and distances would be longer the bicycle tires and wheels might not do. At least they would look too light weight. I went on line to do some basic research. I found that I could buy used wheels and tires from the electric scooters very reasonably. I bought one used set on ebay, then I found a new set from an online scooter parts house.

After I made the decision to give it a try, it took a week to get all the parts in and to assemble the first scooter trailer. I made the bed of the trailer with the new wheels resemble a utility trailer by attaching a metal tool box to it. That trailer would have a retail cost of about three hundred dollars. I didn't expect to sell it.

However the one made with the used wheels was my economy model. It had a bed made with a plywood floor and sides like an old cattle truck. That one I marked at half the price of the fancy one. That one might or might not sell. I put an advertisement for them on craig's list.

I got calls about both of them but no one willing to put down the money. Craig's list was mostly about used merchandise at give away prices.

I have to explain a little about my welder at this point. He was an accidental discovery. The retired shipyard worker had done my first trailers but he decided he didn't want to build the same things over and over. Like me he just wanted to do things that he enjoyed. Production work wasn't one of them. From him I learned enough to make a really ugly prototype trailer.

After the prototype I went looking for someone to do the work. I wanted someone who would bankrupt me. I also needed someone who couldn't steel my design and go into business for himself. As I said Hector was an accidental discovery. I saw his rusty pickup truck with an equally rusty portable welder at the one service station in Monkey Junction.

His English wasn't good and my Spanish is non existent but we managed to work out a deal for him to weld a trailer frame just like the one I showed him. I did hope his version had cleaner welds.

From the start I knew he was an experienced welder and metal worker. I had no idea where he was trained or what his emigration status was, I just knew that I could afford him and he did good work. In that respect I was no different from all the other people who hired questionable workers.

I had taken the work to the retired ship builder, but Hector and I worked out a deal. Hector came by my shop and used my cheap welder to assemble my trailer frames. In the process I learned a lot from him. It got so he would call me every couple of days to see if I had any work for him. I began to feel the pressure to keep him working until I forced myself to remember he wasn't an employee. He was just casual labor.

In the second week I took a trailer with the cattle sides to the local scooter dealer. He let me leave it in his parking lot with a sign. It wasn't a gimme, I did have to pay for the space. He didn't want to be a dealer at first. I took orders and Hector and I made custom trailers for gasoline scooter owners. Hector quickly learned how to make the bike trailers and he was a real asset.

If I had the metal cut with the chop saw he could assemble either kind of trailer frame in a couple of hours. I put ads on a couple of moped sites for the trailers as well as on the motor bike forums. It was slow going but I didn't need the money to live so I was content if the business broke even.

Cindy came to vacation at the beach without her kids. I showed her a couple of restaurants the tourist never could have found. The seafood restaurant served only fresh fish and shrimp. It was every bit as good as the high priced spread. The place had no real decorations unless you count the cooking grease stains on the walls. There were a few cheap prints of the ocean, but they were so dirty they all looks as though they were shot at dusk.

The diner where I ate most of my meals was about a mile from the shop. It too was inside the unofficial town limits of the unofficial town of Monkey Junction. No you wouldn't find it on any map at least not since highway 17 bypassed the crossroads village fifty years before I got there.

The food ranged from a small daily special at every meal, to a plate of food so large that it came on a platter. You dared not order a side of french fries unless your insurance was paid up. On Fridays they did a huge business in take out orders for an item brand new to me, The item was called a collard sandwich.

The collards were cooked in real pork fat, then spread on a fried hoe cake, before the final hoe cake was added to the sandwich, thick bacon was placed on the collards. I would be willing to bet the owner of the place got a kickback from the cardiologist at the local hospital.

Cindy and I shared one of the sandwiches, washed down with large glasses of iced tea. We ate our collard sandwich with a fork. I had seen guys pick them up to eat, but I never was that courageous.

I almost kissed Cindy the night as we walked along the beach, but she moved away deftly. The attempt may be why, when I next heard from her, she was fifty miles up the road headed home. It didn't matter all that much, but she might have been a fun date in another place and time.

The tourist season ended labor day weekend, so during the dog days of August tourist were everywhere. They were trying to get in those last vacation days before the weather started to change and the kids went back to school.

The shop was almost full of completed bikes. I had more than enough going into the winter months, so I was pretty much out of things to occupy my time. The fishing was fun, but it didn't hold my interest. I was a hit or miss kind of fisherman. I might go three or four days in a row then not go for weeks. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was bored to tears on the Wednesday after Cindy left.

I really hadn't been going out at nights for fear I might do something stupid and attract attention to myself. Since I hadn't really had a night in since my release from the prison camp, I decided to give it a try. It had been several months of drinking alone at home, so I wasn't sure exactly what to do.

I still wanted to be careful not to draw any attention to myself, so I dressed in cotton slacks and a nice clean shirt. I had decided to go to one of the upscale motel lounges on Wrightsville Island. I did everything possible to delay my arrival at the lounge.

I arrived at nine p.m. expecting to find every coupled up and having fun. What I found were about a dozen couples trying to talk over the music. Then there at least a dozen women sitting alone at tables for two.

"Hi," I said to the cute bartender. "I'm new around here."

"Good for you," the cute twenty something bartender replied. "Would you like a drink."

"A draft and some information would be nice." I replied.

"The draft I can do. The information maybe I can do."

"Good," I waited until she returned with the beer before I asked, "Why are there so many women sitting alone?"

"Wednesday night widows," she replied. When it was obvious I had no idea what she meant, she continued. "The motel runs a special. Bring your family down on Saturday, the check out of Friday night before midnight and only pay for five nights. Kids stay in the parents room free."

"Okay but how does that account for Wednesday night widows?"

"A lot of the men bring their families, then go back home to work after the weekend. They come back on Friday to take them home. Mom is stuck in a motel with the kids a week and dad is stuck home working. To keep the homicide rate down, we offer free baby sitting on Wednesday night and a free drink in the lounge."

"Ah, now I get it."

"Well it's a crap shoot, but a lot of guys do get it here on Wednesday night." she added with a smile.

For the two weeks that I worked on the power trailer, I did nothing else. I did remember to eat most days. When I get wrapped up in a project, I tend to stay with it no matter what. I managed to build all of the bikes I had on hand, before I went to work on the power trailers. That being the case I didn't have anything laying around to break my concentration. I did have to show customers bikes now and then.

The man who welded the prototype was more than willing to build the trailer frames for me. I decided to allow him to build a dozen, by the end of that project I hoped to have learned enough from him to build my own. He agreed to teach me to weld and cut the metal as part of the price for the dozen.

Finding the new sixteen inch wheels was a challenge, but I did find a source for wheels that looked new. The owner of the local flea market had an in with a thrift store chain. He would allow me cherry pick his shipment of bikes, if I agreed to pay flea market price for each and allow him to salvage the bike frames after I stripped the wheels. I had no problem at all with that arrangement.

The welder bought the metal from a salvage yard several miles up the road. The wireless throttles proved a problem, so I cabled a throttle to the trailer. When the trailer was attached to the bike, the throttle cable just had to be stretched to the front of the bike. I wasn't thrilled with the arrangement but it would work. I could always make the wireless throttle an option. The batteries type was an option as well.

With the arrival of the first production model, I began to think about other things. The most important of the other things was having some fun. I was living a few miles from the beach but I did very few things there. I rode the bike along the strand just for the attention but I seldom did anything else.

The least expensive thing to do at the beach was surf fishing. With that in mind I went to visit the flea market run by the man who sold me my bikes.

"You looking for more bikes Eddie?" he asked when he noticed me.

"I think I have enough for now. Tourist season is about over, so business is going to take a nose dive I expect."

"I don't know about that, there seems to be a lot of interest in bikes here. I don't get much tourist trade, so I think it might surprise you."

"I hope so."

"So if not bikes, what are you in the market for today?"

"I'm thinking about trying my luck at surf fishing."

"So you want to get serious about it or just test the waters, so to speak?"

"Just testing it. Before I sink any real money in the project, I want to know that I can stand the solitude."

"That sounds like a good idea."

"So, what do I need?"

"A rod, a reel, a lure and a plastic bucket will do the trick. Come on back and I'll introduce you to Seymore. Seymore has the tackle shop." The flea market was filled with dealers who had individual spaces. The owner leased the spaces and took care of the credit card transactions. He even covered the spaces, if the dealers were not around. He did charge for the service of course.

Seymore was around that morning, so I made my purchases from him. That is I made them after I got a long explanation of the Seymore method of surf fishing. Since I knew nothing about fishing, I just bought what he suggested as long as it was reasonably priced.

What he sold me looked a lot like the fresh water rig I had used as a child but on steroids. The rod I had used as a kid was about five feet long at the very most. The rod I bought from Seymore was twelve feet long and at the base it was about as thick as a small water pipe. Fortunately it came apart into three pieces a little over three feet each. The reel was just a giant open faced spinner reel.

The Seymore rig, as he called it, was a heavy weight and a plastic lure with two feed line between them. The weight held the lure on the ocean floor but the lure also floated two feet above it. Seymore swore that the currents made it appear to be alive. I had my doubts but I bought the whole thing for about thirty bucks, so It seems like a reasonable deal. Seymore even threw in the plastic bucket every fisherman seemed to have.

I would have taken the bike onto the beach, but the sand was far too soft. It would have just been more effort than it was worth. I drove the sedan to the beach. Finding a place to park was a nightmare, but I drove to the end of the island. I found a public car park there. Then I just walked out onto the beach and setup shop. I had seen enough surf fishermen, since my arrival to know I needed a folding chair and a big assed hat.

After I staked my claim to a piece of the beach, I threw in my lure and sat on my folding chair. After a few casts and retrievals I grew bored so I let my mind drift. In my mind I was rolling around on a large bed with a small woman well over the age of consent, when my phone rang.

I answered, "Rhino Bikes."

"I like the name. I'm just checking in on you. Are you staying under the radar?"

"Hell, sometimes I forget who I am. How are things in copville?"

"How the hell would I know, I'm just a glorified realtor," Cindy said. "We never do any cop things in this shop."

"Ah well at least it is nice and safe. You husband and kids don't have to worry about you coming home at night.":

"Kids are teenagers, they don't even know I exist. Husband got remarried to another teenager, which brings me to why I called. I'm going to come down and do the surf and sand thing for a couple of days. It's time for me to review your situation."

"Do I really need a review, I'm a model citizen these days." It was true. I was saving myself for a time when the feds took their eyes off me to start living up to my means. At that time i was still in my beach bum stage.

I figured the hub motors were best with the lithium battery packs and for those I should charge the most. Preferably something ridiculous.. I also figured that I would look for a less expensive ebike as well. That was the problem. There just were no really inexpensive kits readily available.

The chain driven kits were almost as expensive as the hub motors. There were also other problems with the chain drive. They were noisy and less efficient energy wise. Their advantages were wasted on the flat geography of the area.

I almost gave up until I ran across a comment on one of the forums. The comment was made by a bike builder. He was wondering about the advantages of a push trailer. Since it would be possible to build one that was completely self contained, he wondered it if wouldn't be possible to rig it so that one could remove it completely for storage.

I spent two weeks of my life working on a design to build a trailer that could be easily attached and removed from a common bike. A local welder agreed to build the first trailer and to attach the hitches to the bikes for me. Since he was retired from a local boat building company his price was very fair,.but I wanted to do it myself. I knew that I would need to enroll in the local community college or hang around his shop. I chose hang around his shop.

I wasn't surprised that the prototype trailer cost me as much as a kit built bike would have. I knew that I could get the cost down, if I bought the parts whenever and wherever I saw them laying about. Not to mention I could save the labor by doing it myself.

It took my welder only three days to build and install the first trailer. The hitch had to be welded to the bike, but after that it was a simple one bolt to attach the trailer. All the electronics went onto the trailer with only a wireless remote throttle attached to the bike. That device was from a RC race car.

The whole trailer platform was easy to attach to the bike. The true beauty of it was in the power supply. Since the trailer was self contained the power supply could be the heavier and less expensive lead batteries. The size and weight were less an issue on the trailer.

I picked a heavy framed mountain bike on which to build my first bikes, but by the time I got to the trailer build, my first order of bikes was gone. To test my any bike will do, and since it would be easy to move the trailer to a different bike, I bought a used 12 speed bike from the flea market on the side of the road. I went through and repaired and greased every part of it before I sent it to the welder for a hitch. When the used bike came back, I loaded the trailer into the trunk of my car, put the bike in the carrier on back, then drove to the beach.

The push trailer was an instant hit. I had my cell phone ringing after just a few blocks. I had people wave me down to discuss it. I made appointments back at the shop for people to come ride the bike.

It took two weeks after the closing before I had my first bike ready to sell. It wasn't great but the kit was easy enough to assemble. It was designed so almost any idiot could have done it without ruining either the kit or the bike. Yes I managed to get it set without wrecking either kit but it was a close call. Even so I was very proud of myself.

I had the good bike rack mounted on the sedan left to me by the Marshal service, so I tried my first ride. I drove the bike to Wrightsville island. I removed it from the bike rack while parked in the lot of Johnny Mercer's pier. The bike went about ten miles before the battery warning light began to blink on and off. To get the ten miles, I had to run up and down the island several times. It got some notice but not as much as I would have liked.

When I got back home, I began researching signs. Since the bike was the draw, I began looking at signs to hang from it. As usual there was nothing being sold that seemed up to the task. So I designed my own.

Designing the sign was more about designing the sign holder, then writing a few words on a piece of cardboard. I knew I wanted something with movement but not something that would get in the way of the bike's normal operation. I settled on a weather vane kind of mount, It was no more than a clamp over the seat post, with a one foot high pole set back about six inches from the post. the post could move inside the holder when the wind blew it. It was supposed to wave side to side.

I envisioned a sign with just the name of the company and my new web address. Con men are pretty adaptable, so designing a website using the host freeware was pretty simple. Since I didn't want to be tied to the site too much, I required the buyer to contact me by phone. After that everything would be done on the phone or by mail or even email. On line sales were by paypal only, for credit card purchase I required telephone orders, checks were to be accepted through the mail, so I had everything covered. I didn't expect to sell anything on the net or by mail but it was an option that would help account for the extra money flowing through my account. I needed a few real purchases to hide the fake ones.

Where I was located the land was flat and the ebike was great. It was a tourists dream. One could convince themselves that they were getting real exercise without breaking a sweat, as my daddy would have said.

I had the second bike with the hub motor finished, when I got my first business call. "Rhino bike company," I said into the cell phone.

"Hi, I saw you on the beach yesterday. I think that is just the coolest thing. How far can I go on a charge and how fast," the woman on the phone asked.

"You aren't going to set any land speed records, but you can probably do about twenty miles an hour. Here at the beach you can probably get ten to twenty miles on a charge, depending on your choice of batteries."

"Do you rent them. We are going to be here a couple of weeks. I would love to have one of your bikes to use while we are here."

I had never thought about a rental, so I had to do some quick tap dancing. "Twenty-five dollars a day. Just leave me your credit card number, like you do at the motel. We will make the charges after you return the bike. Now that is with a lead acid battery pack. If you want the fancy lithium pack it will be forty dollars a day." I explained the benefits of the lithium pack but she decided that she and her husband would need only a few miles a day so they were willing to go with the lead acid pack.

I delivered the two bikes to them. I was surprised that the man didn't demand that I remove the front fender sign, but he seemed to be okay with it. I did take the more expensive rear sign away. When I left they were climbing on the bike for a quick ride down the beach. I saw them ride off like a couple of kids and knew I needed a better battery system. I needed something that could be easily switched out. It would be best if one battery was charging while one was being used.

The answer came from the Internet of course. With the hub motor the 12ah battery pack was good for about five to seven miles at the beach. That is on the flat ground and with a little pedaling, just enough to get it moving from the at rest position.

The three 12ah batteries would fit almost perfectly into a plastic shoe box from the dollar store. It wasn't going to be a problem but to make the batteries an easy change I needed to build trailers for them. It wouldn't look as cool, but it would be the answer for the lead acid batteries. The lithium could still fit on the bike since they were smaller and lighter.

That's how I met Shelly. We had dinner at 7:30 and sex at 10:00.. In between we talked about this and that. We even managed to walk on the pier on Wrightsville Island. When the sex happened it was a surprise, at least to me. With women one never knows since they are in control of that part of life.

Shelly was a nice just under middle-aged lady. She had blonde hair, and I was pretty sure it wasn't what god had intended. It was far too even to have been natural. Even so it was well done, I supposed.

Shelly was attractive in that skinny washed out country girl kind of way. Yes you can take the Southern farm girl off the farm, and you can put her in nice clothes, and even inside a bank, but she is still a Southern farm girl. I really didn't mind her country girl looks or her rather deep drawl. It was the fact that she was still married that bothered me some.

"Oh my husband is away and he knows I go out with other men. He understands that I get lonely." she said over dinner.

"Oh is he away on business?" I asked.

"Not really, he is in the state penitentiary." I was more than a little surprised by that. I mean she had been a date set up by a cop for God's sake.

"Oh what did he do?" I asked innocently.

"Assault with a deadly weapon. He really didn't plan it, he just lost his temper."

"And how much longer is he going to be away?"

"About five more years before he comes up for parole."

"Well I would appreciate it, if our relationship stays just between us."

"Of course," she answered. "That is also the deal I made with my husband. I would wait for him, if I could see other men. He would never ask about them and I would never talk about them.

Even with the thought a violent felon for a husband, Shelly still managed to keep my interest up. At least she kept something up long enough to get it done....

"What the hell were you doing?" I asked Jen gin on the phone.

"What? you didn't like Shelly?" she asked with that smile in her voice.

"Of course I liked Shelly. I just didn't care for the idea that she has a violent felon for a husband."

"Yes, but it will be years before he is free. Even then, he has a lot more men to get to before he reaches you. At least he does if he works Chronologically." She broke into a laugh.

"Why did you do it?" I asked.

"You looked like you needed it. After all you have also been away. I figured you and Shelly had something in common. I mean you did time, and she is married to a guy in prison."

"Oh you looked me up?" I knew she would so it wasn't a shock.

"I'm a cop, of course I looked you up."

"So next time I ask you out either accept or just say no. I don't think I want you fixing me up again. You have a weird sense of humor." I replied then clicked the phone off.

I checked with all my delivery people and found that I had only two days to sight see. So I headed up the coast along the not so famous highway 17. I visited three of the best known early towns in North Carolina. They were founded back with river boats were about the only way to get goods inland. The towns all had two things in common. The first was a mostly decaying downtown in the process of being revitalized for about the hundredth time. The second was that each had an almost identical riverside park. From the signs I could tell that the state of North Carolina had sprung for the money to build all of the parks in the same budget. That was long before the fall of the US economy.

Two of the three river towns were being tastefully restored, but the third and smallest of the three looked as thought it had been done by one of those reality TV shows. It was just plain awful. All the wrong colors and way too many of them. Instead of the quaint cobble stone pavers most often used, they had gone for colored in the mix concrete. It was truly a gay decorator's wet dream.

I did find. probably. the worlds best fish sandwich along the way. In one of the small towns, on the main street, within sight of the mouth of a river, I found a small seafood restaurant. Their lunch special was a fresh filet of fish sandwich. Since the fish could vary widely, they didn't specify a type.

Being somewhat adventurous, I ordered it with a home fried potatoes. I ordered the potatoes in hopes that they wouldn't come from a bag of precut frozen ones. The sandwich absolutely lived up to it's billing. The filet was just thick enough to be flavorful, but no so thick that it was too fishy. The breading was light and well spiced. The sauce was mayonnaise based, but not too sweet. It was truly delicious.

I loved the road trip and hated to see it end. On the last day I took a ferry ride to the barrier Islands. It was another beautiful day and great scenery. I had never taken the time to just wonder around, so it was a real treat for me. Life on the run did have it's advantages.

When I got back in town I found a medium sized box sitting beside my door. The mail carrier had left a box of tools unattended. If the place hadn't been a flurry of activity for a while, and the door inside a small alcove, I expect the package would have been gone. Still, there was so little traffic it might have gone unnoticed for several more days.

Inside the box were four sets of wrenches. One was a metric set of box and open end wrenches, one was a sae set of the same type wrench, there was also a set of Allen wrenches, and finally one set of metric in a knife like handle to fit in my pocket. I had bought them on line through ebay. I did it because I knew it would take a while to arrive and I really had no place to store tools until I took possession of the building.

I called the carpenter who had worked on the roof deck repair. The economy was so bad that he was able to come right over. It took him all afternoon to build the work bench which covered the rear wall of the service bay. When he had finished he left me the scrap 2x8s and plywood. I stored them under the work bench.

I went on line that night to get some help determining what tools I needed. I knew how to use simple hand tools, but I had a feeling there would be a need for specialized tools as well. I was right of course. There were special wrenches to make tightening wheel parts easier and special tools to remove crank sets from the bike and a tool to remove the sprocket set of a multi sprocket rear wheel.

Then there were the power tools. There were grinders and cutoff tools. as well as power drills and saws to buy. I found it best to just drive to Harbor Freight and load up all at once on the power tools I needed. Everything bike related, I just ordered on line and hoped I wouldn't need it before it arrived.

On the second day after my return from the trip just as scheduled ups delivered several boxes of used parts, which I had purchased on line. There were three 600 watt scooter motors and the mounts to attach them to the drives. Those all came from an electric scooter repair shop.

A second box held a half dozen used rear wheel assemblies from a much smaller scooter. Those came from a scooter salvage yard of all things. I chose those wheel assemblies because they were smaller than the ones from the repair shop and they had solid core tires. Those two items along with some raw metal from home depot would made my first three bikes. There were more sophisticated kits on the way from china, but these three would be the first to hit the showroom floor.

I stole the design from a guy on one of the bike forums. He didn't mind since he was just an old fart who was in it for fun. By the first weekend in the shop, I had the motors and the electronics ready to mount on a bike. I was waiting for the heavy duty bikes to arrive when I decided to hell with it. I went to three different Wal-mart stores to find three bikes I wanted to use. Since the rear seat, on the sedan Cindy left me, folded I was able to get the bikes back to the shop.

Instead of assembling the bikes over the weekend, I called my cop friend. "Jen gin, what you got planned for today?" I asked.

"Who the hell is this?" she asked.

"It's Eddie, from the palm room." I said it with a laugh.

"Oh the older guy?" I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yes the one who reminds you of your uncle. You know the one who took your virginity," I laughed out loud so that she would know that I was joking.

"Damn I must have been drunk, If I told you about that." She paused a moment then added. "I'm working this weekend. Actually swing shift so there is nothing I can do for you."

"Too bad, I guess I'll just have to tough it out alone. So when can I take you to dinner. I did promise."

"You promised to ask me out, I did not promise to accept," she said with that smile in her voice again.

"Good point," I admitted.

"I have a friend you might like. She just broke up with her boyfriend. How about I fix you up."

"Aren't you worried about her taking me away from you."

"Can't lose what I never had," she replied.

"Tell me you aren't making friends with the local police. Eddie that would be a very bad idea."

"I thought you said this ID would hold up to any scrutiny?"

"Of course it will, you might not though."

"Trust me I have been questioned by the best, and I held it together. Besides it was just a lady who happened to be a cop."

"She is also a cop who just happens to have female plumbing, She is always going to be a cop first."

"I'm counting on it," I said hat with a huge smile. "What can be less suspicious than a guy who dates a cop. If I had anything to hide, surely I would find someone else to date."

"You know she will run your background and find the bit you did in the federal prison camp?"

"I'm counting on it," I replied. "Spread the word around that I'm a harmless nerd and they will leave me alone. I don't have any books to juggle, except my own."

"If this goes sideways, you are going to be on the run," Cindy informed me.

"I know and I'm not interested in doing that again. I'm going to be very careful."

"Good, so when will you have the shop open?"

"In a couple of weeks if I keep my nose to the wheel. I probably will do some sight seeing while I wait for the inventory to arrive,"