Matt swore under his breath as his old Chevy pickup started a thumping noise just as he was entering the interstate highway.

“Damn. Just when I thought I might make it back home without trouble.”

A wisp of smoke and a suspicious odor along with it ended any hope of continuing down the highway. He eased to the right, pulled the truck as far off the road as he could, and shut off the ignition.

He leaned back, started to reach into his shirt pocket for a cigarette and then sighed, knowing that habit was gone for good. Then he shoved his straw cowboy hat firmly on his head, threw open the door and started walking back toward the town where he had just gassed up.

The walk will do me good, he thought. I need the exercise and the cool air will help me think after a long night staring at the highway.

Matt mentally counted the slim pickin’s in his wallet as he walked. He figured he had enough to fix the truck if it was something simple, but if it was anything more than than, he was going to have to figure out something else.

The rising sun was struggling to find its way over a small cloud as he moved toward the gas station where he had just recently filled his tank. There wasn’t any repair shop there, but he figured he could get a bite to eat from the coffee shop and ask about one.

This was not a good year for Matt Adams. Life was kicking his butt every time he turned around.

“What cosmic force did I anger?” he muttered. First, his job was eliminated, downsized they told him. Hell of a thing to happen just before your 40th birthday. Then his wife decided she needed more than a simple country boy and filed for divorce. It took all the equity in their house to take care of the divorce and the bills that had piled up because he wasn’t working. No job, no wife, no house.

Then he got the phone call that his dad was sick up in Michigan. By the time he got there, his dad had passed. His dad had been struggling with his health, but didn’t want Matt to know, figuring his son had enough on his mind already.His mother had died years before, leaving a pile of medical bills that had pretty much drained the family finances. Matt’s dad was living alone in a rented bungalow at the end.

So, when everything was finally cleared up, here was Matt with the old pickup truck, enough money to get back to Georgia, and not a clue what he would do when he got there.

He was deep in thought as he entered the coffee shop and didn’t even notice the teenage girl who almost ran into him as she left.

A plate of runny eggs and cold bacon eased the hunger pangs and the waitress gave him the name of a garage just up the street that would haul his pickup back into town. Matt took a deep breath and stepped outside into the sunlight. Better get at it, he said to himself.

The familiar smell of oil and rubber greeted Matt as he pushed open the door of Wally’s 66. The squat green, cinder block building was situated on the outskirts of what passed for downtown, a bit larger than Matt had expected from his glance from the interstate.
“Hey buddy, what can I do for ya,” came a friendly voice from across the oil-stained floor.

“I guess we’ll see,” said Matt as he glanced around. “I’m sittin’ alongside the interstate out there with a Chevy pickup that makes funny noises and smells even funnier.”

“Gotcha,” said the rotund fellow who ambled across the garage with his hand out in front of him. “I’m Mike. What say we jump in the wrecker and get that thing in here and take a look.”

An hour later, the Chevy was resting under a bright light in a corner and Mike was crawling out from under, wiping his hands on a greasy towel.
“Hate to tell you, buddy, but it ain’t good.

“Transmission is fried and a truck this old won’t be easy to find another one. Not cheap, either. You got some other problems, too. That engine might last another hundred miles or so, but you won’t like what you hear after that.”

Matt swallowed to combat the feeling in his stomach. “What are you telling me?” he asked.

The mechanic shrugged his heavy shoulders and gave a sidelong glance at the truck. “It’s done, fella,” he said. “Yeah, you could get it going again if you spent a lot of money, but even if you fix what I told you, something else is gonna break pretty soon.”

Matt slumped into a nearby chair and put his head in his hands. Tired from a long night on the road, frustrated with the turn of events.

“Can I leave the truck here for now?” he asked. “I’ll figure out something today and get back to you.”

“No problem,” shrugged Mike. “I’ve got plenty of room and there’s no big hurry. Anything I can do to help you, let me know.”
“Appreciate it,” said Matt. “Right now I’m just so damn tired and I need to get some sleep. Will my stuff be OK in the truck if I go look around town?”

“Not a problem,” Mike assured him. “Go take a look at beautiful downtown Green River. Hope you like what you see.”

Right now all Matt wanted to see was a bed. A couple blocks down the road was a cheap motel and he was headed in that direction.
He awoke with a dry mouth and that funny feeling you get when you sleep too much during the day. After a shower, he felt more normal and decided to head out into the heat and check out his surroundings.

The little neon sign in the window of the bar caught his eye as he walked by and he turned into the doorway, hoping the place had air-conditioning. He hesitated inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The air was moderately cooler and he could hear the air conditioner chugging as it tried to keep up with the afternoon heat.

A couple of guys were playing pool in the rear of the room, looking like they were just passing time with their indifferent approach to the game. There was one old guy sitting at the bar and a card game over in the corner.

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