“I’m good,” he says. “Seriously.” His head is spinning a little, but everything is starting to mesh. His reality is beginning to solidify.

Looking to the pavement. Headlights show the trail to his bike. Paint and frame had left scuffs and scratches over the road. The road left some of the same on the motorcycle. Fuck. Hands keep trying to help. Hunter jerks from the grip, bends down. Light-headed, he tries to deadlift the bike from the road. A deep nasal voice tells him, “Take it easy, buddy. Let me and your compadres get it. Load it in my truck if you want. Take it to my place. I got a shop. Can give her a good looking over. Fix whatever needs fixing.”

The dream, the memory of his grandfather, of his father and Annie—it is something Hunter had forgotten. Hidden, vague as it is. Small. Buried in his brain. Something he hadn’t understood then. Maybe he couldn’t process it as a kid. But now he holds a piece of then. And yet, it raises more questions. How often had it happened? How many times had Hunter seen it? Suppressed it all these years. How can Hunter open more of his mind to recall his childhood?

“Dude?” Itch says. “You okay, staring into the abyss or some shit?”

Hunter says, “Still letting pieces of myself fill back in.”

Beside Itch stands the old-timer who had offered to help load up his wrecked bike, take it to his place. Attired in Levi’s, white V-neck T-shirt, and faded Beechnut hat. Big wad of chew in his jaw. Thick salt-and-pepper mustache. Headlights shadow his frame. Hunter says, “We’ll need a wide board—a two-by-twelve if you got it—to load the bike up into your truck.”

“Happen to have one. Was busy with a project earlier today on the farm. Name’s Purnell. My place ain’t but a dick stroke from here. You’re more than welcome to rest for the night, look over your bike.”

Hunter shakes his hand.

“I’m Hunter. These are my buddies, Itch and Nugget. Appreciate the gesture. That buff came out of no-fucking-where.”

“You sure you’re okay?” says Itch. “You took a mean skid over the pavement. Went straight under that son of bitch, then he just wandered off.”

“I’m good. Let’s get this bike loaded up. Go assess the damage.”