He Was Finished With It

When I started writing these blog stories, I figured I had enough material to last a long time with just Wes stories. Imagine my surprise when one story after another keeps popping into my head about my brother, Ken. He is by far the star of this show!

When Ken was in high school, he was living with our grandparents in Moab, Utah. I think it was during his sophomore year I gave him my motorcycle. I had tired of trying to maim or kill myself on the little 175 Yamaha dirt bike, so I figured Ken deserved a turn at it.

When it came time for Ken to graduate, we drove up from Buckeye, Arizona to see the ceremony and have a short visit with Mom, Ma & Pa (that’s what all of us grandkids called our grandparents), and, of course, Ken. I was talking to him on the phone, planning the trip, and he said I could pick up the motorcycle while I was there; he was finished with it.

We arrived in Moab, visited with everyone for awhile, had dinner, and then I told Ken I wanted to take the motorcycle for a spin. Pa laughed, and Ken just grinned.

“I don’t think it’ll start,” Ken said.

I’d tinkered with the bike quite a bit, so that didn’t faze me. “We’ll see,” I said. “Where is it?”

“In the well house,” Ken said.

I got up and started toward the door, and Ken stayed seated; still wearing a goofy grin, and scrunching his nose like he does when he’s amused about something. “You coming?” I asked.

“Nah,” he said. “You go ahead.”

I figured Ken was just being lazy, so I went on out to the well house, which served as a storeroom as well as protection for the well. When I opened the door, my first thought was Ken was pulling a joke on me—payback for all the torment I’d dealt him over the years—then my mouth fell open when I spotted a couple of large cardboard boxes in the back corner of the well house. They contained what was once a fine Yamaha dirt bike.

Yep. Ken had broken that baby smack into, and rather than try to fix it, further disassembled it and packed it into the tow boxes. I stared at it—my mouth hanging open—scratched my head then thought, “Well, at least it won’t take up much room in the pickup.”

I was able to put it back together when we got home. Sold it pretty cheap.

Little brothers… what are you gonna do with ‘em?


  1. Sherry said

    No left over pieces?

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