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.