Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 73(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14671 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 73(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)
The closer I get to town, the more pieces of people's homes and businesses are scattered about. I can see how much hard work, time, and money it will take to restore some sense of normalcy.
Anxiety ripples through me as every fiber of my body urges me to check on the body shop. I may not be a frequent traveler into the town of Mercy, but many folks in Mercy come to me. I'd hate to have to shutter my shop due to damage from this storm.
I'm only a few miles away from work when I spy a set of tire tracks. The muddy tread is thick from where the rubber refused to grip the asphalt. The spin looks like some drag racing teen in a sports car was doing donuts in the middle of the street. But there's no mistaking the set of tracks veering off to the side of the road.
There's a steep ravine to protect the tree line from cars spinning out, and it worked perfectly. The same car I worked on sits at a funky angle, with its nose pointing toward the pavement. The trunk and driver’s side doors are open.
I pull my truck a few feet in front of it and get out to get a good look at the damage. The interior of the car is soaked, and I know it will take a miracle to restore it. Thankfully, I keep a camera in my glove box for damaged cars that come into my shop. I hated keeping track of damage on my phone, and when I smashed my last one, its fragility let me know I couldn't depend on that kind of technology.
Now, more than ever, I'm happy to have taken a step back into the olden days of having separate devices. The camera doesn't need to sit on a charger day and night as I see the full battery and plenty of memory to hold as many pictures as I need. I want to show Maddie what's going on with her car, especially before I decide to fix it.
A side of me wants to surprise her, to fix it up good as new. However, I know there's something sentimental about this Honda. It's not just any car, or else she would have gotten rid of it. Instead of making my own judgments about what to do with it, I take the pictures and mark down the closest mile marker along the road leading out of town.
Now that I know where her car is, I can move on to checking my body shop. Thankfully, when I pull up, there are only a few branches, twigs, and trash cans scattered around the lot. The wind and rain had their way with anything not glued down, making me admire Maddie even more for her fight to find her way to me.
It pulls the protector out of me, the fixer, the mechanic. I want everything to work out for her.
As I glance around at my shop's equipment, I realize I don't need a backhoe to remove that tree. All I need are some heavy chains and some hooks I can rig to my flatbed. Once I get everything I need from my shop, I leave my pickup and switch into my large flatbed. It takes some doing, but after I get Maddie's car back to my shop, I head back to the house.
I round the side of the house and head into the backyard, where I hear aggressive grunts, groans, and exertion.
"What are you doing?" I ask once I see Maddie in a pair of my work boots and coveralls.
"I couldn't sit still. My body hurts—"
I chuckle. "So your solution is to move sticks into a pile?"
Maddie shrugs, a bundle of wet twigs and leaves cradled in her arms. "I've been sore before, especially on days where I had to demolish an entire kitchen. The best way to get over a sore body is to get your body moving."
"That's all well and good, Maddie, but I don't want you to get hurt back here."
She glares at me as if I said she's too weak to do anything. The damp sticks and leaves fall to the ground at her feet, and she rests her hands on her hips. "How do you plan to move this tree without any help?"
"I plan on rigging up my flatbed to pull it away from the house."
"And what about the ground underneath? What happens if you pull the tree away and it messes with the foundation of the house? What if it's impacted the door frame, so now water seeps in?"
"Hold on a second," I tell her, pumping my hands with the hope of slowing down her questions. "Can't you include all of that in your estimate?"
"Do you mean my appraisal?"
I rub my chin. "Evaluation, inspection, and anything else included in your services that will tell me what needs to happen to get this place on the market."