All rights reserved. All characters and events are fictional, the participants were all consenting adults, staunch churchgoers and members of the Rotaries. All appropriate safety precautions were observed at all times, social distancing was applied etc. Copyright will be enforced by the Guild of Assassins. This is a story of what almost happened.
The old truck started on the first swing of the starter, and Jim smiled. Old, but not dead yet. He eased the clutch, thinking of the day ahead. If all went well the whole project should come together today. All the components, each one built by overpaid ego-maniacs, but he, in his old truck, his worn boots and threadbare jeans, he would put it together, make it all work. Smiling, he clicked on the remote, and drove out the gate.
He must have heard the footsteps because he hit the brakes a moment before he saw her. Jogger. Blonde ponytail swinging, head down. Blue eyes searing into his. Perfectly angled legs, poised, swerving to miss the bumper, another step and angle back. Arms swinging freely from a sleeveless vest, giving a delightful glimpse of breast. She looked back, lips a hard, flat line. No need to mouth: 'Arsehole'.
Jim looked after the disappearing figure, seeing the long legs swinging freely under the tight shorts, the arms pumping. He sighed. No time for that now. The days that were. Still.
He eased the truck into gear and drove off.
For once everyone on site worked together. All the components had been brought here, and were being moved carefully into place on the platform. The girders creaked minutely. Locks clacked into place. Cables were plugged in. Panels flickered with lights. Jim smiled. The PhD's shook their heads. Never before had a project come together like this, a week ahead of schedule, and under budget.
Calibration went smoothly, but the platform was not steady enough. To be expected. They tried again, but there were infinitesimal movements. White coats clustered, and Jim looked on. After a while he intervened.
"Ok, people, we did what we had planned for today. Let's knock off and I will fix the problem. See you all tomorrow."
Dr Jones objected: "We have an hour in hand. We should keep on, maybe we can do the calibration when it gets cooler."
Jim shook his head. "Doc, you can keep on if you wish, but remember that calibration was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Go and celebrate that everything went together well. I promise you, tomorrow morning I will have the platform stable as mother earth."
The construction supplies shop was practically empty, but an aggressive guy kept both girls busy, checking his invoices going back over the last six months. Jim mouthed over his head to one: "I only need six screw jacks."
She looked for help, then ducked into an office, and asked something.
