Derek carefully removed two oversized screws from the plastic guard covering some of the inner workings on the old moped in his garage.
He worked with gentle hands, knowing this old Puch was nearly 50 years old. It had sat in his grandpa’s barn since the late 80s. It seemed to be in good condition, but any forced or rushed move could break or snap something that would be awfully hard to replace.
Derek looked up and caught a glimpse of his face in the bike’s mirror. Sometime in the last hour, he must have wiped a greasy hand across his sweaty forehead. He smirked. It wasn’t hard to understand how he came by the nickname Grease.
The guard was technically free now, but there still seemed to be something holding it in place. He carefully stuck the end of his screwdriver under the bottom edge and gave the gentlest bit of prying pressure. There was a soft pop as the guard broke free from the decades of grime that was holding it in place.
Derek set the guard aside and assessed what he was looking at behind the engine. There were a lot of things that instantly made sense. Some, less so.
He had exposed the carburetor, which was his main objective for now. He’d already determined the old spark plug was in great shape and gave immediate and consistent spark when he manually pumped the engine with one of the moped’s pedals. The engine had great compression as well. Just one of those things after sitting for 40 years in a barn would have been a minor miracle, but both gave him confidence that God himself wanted Derek to get this old bike back on the road.
There were some lines in and around the carburetor that confused him, however. His grandpa had always said this bike needed gas mixed with 2-stroke oil, but some of what he was looking at looked like an oil pump system. He’d figure it out, but there was still a bit of mystery left in this old machine.
Derek sat on the ground next to the bike and took a sip from his can of Coke. His eyes never left the carburetor. It was going to be some work to get it free, but he had time.
He, unfortunately, had lots of time on his hands these days. Ever since Jess stole his band, he’s spent most of his spare time in the garage.
Derek cringed at the thought of Jess’ name. Why had he ever thought it was OK to invite a girl to join the band? Something in his gut told him a girl would bring nothing but trouble, but the idea of a girl playing banjo and singing harmonies just struck him as kind of cool.
In the future, he’d have to trust his gut.
A familiar knot grew in his stomach as he remembered the events of a few weeks ago. Jess had been a growing problem in the band since day one. He would show up to practice, and she’d already be there jamming with the guys–his guys. She must have been plotting her little coup for months, slowly winning the hearts of the Renegades’ nerdy rhythm section.
Derek rolled his eyes. All three of them probably fell in love with her. It was so clear to him now.
He thought the problem was over that day when Jess finally quit the band. At first it felt like it came out of nowhere. He sees now she’d been planning it for a while. He remembers bringing up their upcoming gig at Bobby’s and she had this wild freak-out about how they weren’t ready. She went on and on about how they only had one song.
Girls just don’t understand rock and roll, he thought at the time.
Shortly after she stormed out of the garage with her banjo, the rest of the Renegades followed suit. She had poisoned their minds against him. Derek was standing there, and the guys just started saying the stupidest stuff. Honestly, he can’t even remember what they were accusing him of, but it was all just stupid stuff Jess had probably told them. And then they kicked him out of the band.
It was so shocking. He couldn’t believe it was happening. And honestly, he’s not quite sure how it’s even possible to be kicked out of his own band.
Derek picked up a rag and wiped his hands. He picked his screwdriver up and began to disconnect the lines leading to the carburetor.
As he worked, more of the story spun through his head.
Derek was riding the Number One across town toward his grandparents’ place that evening, when the bus stopped in front of Bobby’s Cafe. Usually, Bobby closed up by mid-afternoon, but the lights were on and the place looked packed.
“What’s going on at Bobby’s?” Derek said aloud in the bus.
Gloria, Dunnock Bay’s bus driver, glanced at him in her rearview mirror.
“He’s having some sort of special dinner,” she said. “One night only. Fancy food. Dim lights. I guess he’s trying something new. Even brought in a band for it.”
Derek looked at his phone to check the date. It was the very night Bobby had booked the Renegades the play. He’d assumed the whole thing was cancelled after he called Bobby to pull out of the gig.
“Who’s the band?” he said.
“Not sure,” she said. “He said high school kids.”
Derek hopped up from his seat.
“This is my stop,” he said.
Derek walked into the coffee shop. It was weird. He’d been in there a million times, but everything seemed different. The lights were low. There were candles everywhere. All the tables had red-checked tablecloths. Every table was filled with people he recognized from town, but they were all dressed a little nicer. And they were all ignoring their food as they watched and listened to the band play.
Derek’s eyes narrowed.
It was his band.
“What the hell is this?” he said out loud.
The band tried to keep playing as if nothing had happened, but they faltered. Jess, whose eyes bugged out when he first walked in, stared at the floor in front of her. The rest of the band shot each other glances. Nathan whispered something to Gil, who was suddenly having a hard time keeping up with the cord changes on his bass. Liam froze at his electric piano and stared at Derek.
“I said what the hell is this?” repeated Derek.
A tall blond Swedish dude who was sitting with the new librarian stood up and asked Derek if there was a problem. Bobby stood behind him. Celeste, that old lady who rides with his uncle Lenny in his garbage truck, was there too.
He thinks she might have been the most intimidating of the three.
The band had fully stopped playing by this time.
“No problem,” said Derek. “It’s just, my band apparently decided to play this gig, that I cancelled, without me.”
Bobby stepped forward.
“This is a private event,” he said. “You cancelled. They called and re-booked. And they’re doing a great job. My customers are enjoying the show. And now I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Derek looked from Bobby to the old lady to the Swedish dude. He looked at the band, who all stared at him silently.
He cleared his throat.
“No problem,” he said. He gave a forced smile. “I seem to be under-dressed anyway.”
Derek stepped towards the door. When he looked back, every eye in the cafe was on him.
“Have a nice night,” he said.
He walked out the door feeling like he couldn’t have handled that any better. He didn’t understand why his eyes were wet with tears by the time he reached home.
Derek cut the old fuel line leading to the carburetor. He’d shut off the fuel feed at the beginning of the job, so there was no mess to deal with. The old line was dry and cracked. He’d have to replace it.
The fuel line was the last piece that was holding the carburetor in place. He gently removed it and carried it to the workbench where he could examine it under the lights.
The bottom bowl was fairly stuck, but it came loose with a bit of elbow grease. After breaking the block, it unscrewed easily. He opened it up and took a look inside.
What a mess. There had been fuel left in the carburetor for decades, and the entire thing was caked with gunk.
On one hand, this would take a bit of work to bring back to life. On the other, he could now say with some confidence this was the main reason the old moped wasn’t starting.
His mum entered the garage through the door from the house as he was dumping the bit of old fuel into an old plastic coffee container.
“Derek?” she said.
She sounded slightly sheepish.
“Yeah, Ma,” he said, looking up.
He saw she wasn’t alone.
“Some friends are here to see you.”
Derek’s expression stayed flat as he watched Jess and Nathan enter the garage.
“Yeah?” he said.
He turned back to the carburetor on his workbench.
“I’ll leave them with you,” said him mum.
“Whatever,” he said.
He poked at the old fuel float, assessing whether it was still viable.
“Hey, Grease,” said Jess, stepping towards him at his workbench.
“Yeah,” said Nathan. “Hey, Derek. What you working on?”
Derek said nothing for a while as he inspected the float needle valve. Despite the gunk, it seemed to be in good shape.
“Just an old bike,” he said.
Jess put a hand on the Puch moped set up a few feet away.
“This one?” she said.
Derek looked up.
“Yes,” he said, turning back to the carburetor.
“It’s cool,” she said. “Looks old.”
“1979,” he said without thinking. “Made in Austria. It’s been in my grandpa’s shed since the 80s.”
“Cool,” she said, grateful she got him talking. “Think you can fix it?”
Derek worked silently on the carburetor for a few seconds. He took a breath.
“Yes, probably,” he said.
He set the carburetor on the bench.
“Look, I’m really busy,” he said. “What do you want?”
Nathan and Jess looked at each other. Nathan pulled an envelope from his pocket.
“We know it was kind of crappy to keep that gig after you had cancelled it,” he said. “At least, we should have told you about it.”
Derek scoffed.
“You think?” he said.
“Yes,” said Jess confidently. “We admit it. That wasn’t kind. And even though you have been…”
She looked at Nathan again. They’d clearly rehearsed this.
“...less than nice, in our experience in the band with you, we do feel we owe you something.”
Nathan put the envelope on the workbench.
“You booked the gig, so there’s your share of the pay,” said Nathan. “We thought we at least owe you that.”
Derek looked at the envelope.
“OK,” he said.
“It’s not a million bucks, but it’s more than what we thought,” said Jess. “We got a bunch of tips at the end of the night.”
Derek nodded.
“OK,” he repeated.
There was an awkward moment as Nathan and Jess waited for him to say something else.
He didn’t.
“I guess that’s it,” said Jess.
“Yup,” said Nathan.
“So, there you go,” she said. “And no hard feelings, I hope.”
Derek nodded slightly.
“Sure,” he said.
He turned back to the carburetor. Jess could see he wasn’t actually doing anything. He was just looking. She and Nathan made a quiet exit.
After a few minutes, Derek put down the carburetor and wiped his hands on the rag. He picked up the envelope and looked inside.
He whistled slightly.
300 bucks.
He could probably buy the 70 cc upgrade kit for his moped with that.
He put the envelope in his pocket and got back to work on the bike.
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Have a great week. <3 Davy