landing in this basket, the hand towel was still–or again–clean and dry, ready to be folded.
He rubbed his hands and fingers and gave them a look of approval as he walked toward a small white plastic table positioned adjacent to the front entrance door of the garage.
Atop this table, a small metallic blue thermos bottle awaited him here. He retrieved his mug from the workbench and placed it onto the tabletop and, after partially unscrewing the black plastic top of the bottle, poured himself a steaming hot cup of coffee. He took a sip to test the temperature and determined that it was still just a tad too hot for him to drink just now. He thought about what he would do next and decided that it would make sense to back the car out of the garage and park it in the street already in anticipation of his departure for work. He could drink his coffee when he had done this. It would be time to leave for the site very shortly anyhow.
He slowly screwed the top back onto the thermos bottle.
His coffee mug stood steaming on the table as he quickly changed clothes, donning a set of bright navy blue overalls that was much cleaner than those which he had been wearing while working beneath the buena.Vista. He hung the grey overalls that he had been wearing on a large hook attached below the end of a wooden shelf hanging on the side wall.
Settling himself comfortably into the driver’s seat, he punched the ignition button with his left index finger and listened carefully. The engine started up easily and hummed smoothly as it ran. The sonorous sound of the car was gratifying to his fine-tuned, mechanically-savvy ears as it stood idling in the garage. After listening intently for a few more seconds and deciding that what he heard now met with his unconditional approval, Barnz gingerly selected the softkey for reverse. His fingertips held the small tab behind the steering wheel lightly, thereby putting the car into gear. He backed it carefully out of the garage.
There was still no activity to be discerned outside.
In a fashion that was completely unique to Barnz’s manner of driving–after all, he was not only blind but also completely certain that there was never conflicting traffic whenever he elected to move about–and without even a pretense of looking both ways to ensure that the street was clear, Barnz backed the dazzlingly polished buena.Vista carefully into the road, straightened it out and parked it directly in front of the end of the short driveway that led up to the garage door.
There he would leave it standing and gleaming in the morning sun until he was ready to leave for work.
Before getting out of the car, however, he lowered the roof and then wiped the top of the dashboard panel thoroughly with one of his ubiquitous rags. He then got out, closing the door with its characteristically solid thumping sound, and returned to devote his attention to his cup of coffee. It would no doubt be perfect for drinking now.
There he stood, leaning on the frame of the garage door and lost in his thoughts as he allowed himself to admire his painstakingly restored car and contentedly sipped his coffee. The clock on the wall told him that he would have to be at work in about thirty minutes.
Barnz had just returned his nearly empty cup to the table and was just about to lower the garage door in preparation for his departure when he heard the sound of a car turning the corner outside his home. As he turned, facing again in the direction toward the street, he could sense and subsequently visualize the arrival of a blue and white police cruiser approaching at a snail’s pace. Barnz quickly surmised that it was no more than perhaps thirty or forty meters away at the moment he registered its approach. As he stood in the entrance to his garage and hesitated, the patrol car seemed to leisurely coast diagonally across the street and rolled to a stop on the left side of the road.
More precisely, the cruiser had come to a stop directly behind the buena.Vista parked at the end of his driveway.
There were four officers in uniform sitting inside the police car. Their badges and their sunglasses reflected the dazzling glare of the clear morning sun with the same radiance as the buena.Vista’s spotless chrome trim.
The officers seated in the squad car were busily examining the classic buena.Vista, gesturing animatedly as they appeared to discuss something about the vehicle among themselves. And while he couldn’t actually hear them, it was immediately clear to Barnz that the subject of their lively conversation revolved around his car. Before too very long, one of the officers happened to glance over in Barnz’s direction, noticing him as he stood wordlessly in his overalls, leaning on the frame of the garage door.
Barnz didn’t flinch. And even though no one had addressed him directly yet, it was suddenly very clear to him that this was the beginning of what could likely become a very unpleasant encounter.
The officer seated in the rear directly behind the driver of the squad car was none other than his recent acquaintance, PLΔcebo. Sergeant PLΔcebo, actually. The policeman jammed his thumb down on the black plastic button that lowered his window. As he did so, the rest of the car’s occupants stopped conversing and sat eyeing Barnz with some curiosity.
“Good morning, there!” bellowed PLΔcebo as he poked his head somewhat out the open window. Barnz could tell that he was chewing the obligatory wad of gum as he spoke.
“Good morning,” came the return greeting in a cordial voice.
“You know, that there’s a real nice car,” said the officer, grinning as he pointed at the buena.Vista. “Got any idea who it belongs to?”
“Well, actually, it’s mine,” answered Barnz calmly.
The police officer looked at Barnz with an exaggerated expression of astonishment: “Naaah! Come on now! Yours? You gotta be pullin’ my leg or something?”
There was brief pause in which no one said anything further.
Ending the awkward lull, Barnz spoke up again: “Nope. Not really. It’s mine. Nothing wrong with that, right?”
“So it’s yours, you say?” asked the officer. He grinned a faintly diabolical grin as he spoke.
“Anything wrong, he asks!” bellowed his colleague sitting next to him on the rear seat in exaggerated amusement as he began jabbing PLΔcebo in the ribs with his elbow. Both men began laughing hilariously. It was inane, almost as though they had suddenly and without warning begun tickling each other.
Then PLΔcebo stopped laughing abruptly and turned back to face Barnz.
“Anything wrong? Well, we don’t know yet,” he said through the open window of the squad car, looking at Barnz now with a mocking look of dutiful concern on his face. “But we sure could do our best and try to find out.”
He turned to address the officers sitting in the car with him.
“Ain’t that right, fellas? Can’t we?”
All were in loud and unanimous agreement.
PLΔcebo opened the door and quickly stepped out of the cruiser, smartly donning his cap and adjusting it repeatedly until he appeared satisfied that it was sitting correctly. It was a dark blue peaked cap of nearly Soviet-esque dimensions with the Libertyville@Esperantia state seal embroidered prominently upon it. And it sported lots of gold embroidery on the oversized bill.
Bird turd or scrambled eggs, as some people called it.
PLΔcebo walked slowly from the squad car and came to a halt directly behind Barnz’s car. A moment later, he flashed a thumbs-up signal to his fellow officers still sitting in the squad car. At this, the other three officers then also emerged from the cruiser and meandered around slowly until they all reassembled at the front end of the buena.Vista. They closely inspected the immaculate interior of the vehicle as they passed slowly along both the left and right sides of the car.
Just by his tone of voice and his demeanor, Barnz had already easily recognized PLΔcebo as being the very same officer who had dropped in unannounced at the PowerCrank construction site recently, rudely and utterly unnecessarily interrupting his consultations with Fulcrum. He smiled inwardly for an instant as he recalled the subsequent bit of pandemonium that had played