Jo Ellen set up a snack mix and some drinks like they were hosting a Bulldogs tailgate and they shared pictures and stories. The men were all Army veterans, retired, and, frankly, fascinating.
In addition to having four grandkids, Brick was a beekeeper. Randy taught line dancing at his community center. Angel volunteered as a tour guide at the Apalachicola National Forest.
And Maggie had to revise everything she thought she knew about bikers.
The tow-truck arrived—a rusted white beast driven by a man named Mikey who said nothing but spit sunflower seeds to the ground as he peered into the engine of Frank’s truck.
“Water pump. Yep. Tomorrow.”
“Oh, dear,” Jo Ellen said. “I have to ask Oscar where we should stay.”
“Is that your husband?” Randy asked.
“No,” Jo Ellen said.
“Yes,” Maggie replied right on top of her answer.
The men just laughed, but Mikey walked away to set up the tow, while Maggie and Jo Ellen looked at each other with a mix of confusion and worry.
“I guess we go with the truck…” Maggie said, glancing at the man as he spit again.
“You can’t go in that tow-truck,” Brick said. “Mikey doesn’t have insurance for passengers.” He thumbed to his bike. “But I do.”
Maggie stared at him and then let out the most unladylike snort. “I don’t think so. We’ll walk.”
Brick rolled his eyes. “It’s seven miles up to Crawfordville,” he said. “Be sure to get off 98 and turn on 319.”
“Seven…” Maggie turned to Jo Ellen, who already had her phone out.
“My grandson put the Uber app on my phone, so…”
“There ain’t no Uber out here,” Randy said.
“We can get you there in ten minutes, ma’am,” Angel added. “You can borrow our helmets.”
He couldnotbe serious.
“Gator Jack’s can put you up,” Randy added. At the women’s matching dubious looks, he laughed. “No real gators. It’s just a joint across the street from Mikey’s shop that’s got a couple rooms they rent to fishermen,” Randy added. “Ain’t the Ritz, but it’s clean.”
“Got a decent bar, too,” Mikey chimed in as he dragged a chain—an actual chain—from his truck to theirs. “Passable burgers, cold beer, and a jukebox. And every night is Ladies’ Night.”
Jo Ellen turned to Maggie, who was starting to feel like she might sway in the sun.
“We’ll change into sneakers and walk,” Maggie insisted under her breath.
“You can,” Jo Ellen said. “I’m taking the ride.”
Maggie felt her jaw loosen. “Jo Ellen Wylie! Are you out of your mind?”
She leaned in. “A seven-mile walk in this heat would be the crazy thing. It’ll kill us both. These men won’t. Right?” She gave them a sweet smile. “You won’t hurt a couple of grandmas in a bind.”
Brick winked at Maggie. “Grandmas are our specialty.”
Oof. Why did he make her laugh?
“Come on, Mags. You go with Brick.”
He reached out a hand. “Yeah,Mags. Come with me. You’ll have so much fun you’ll let me buy you dinner.”
