The last of the festival tents were already coming down when I stepped away from the Lawson Customs display with Diesel padding quietly beside me.
The afternoon sun had begun sinking toward the trees, painting everything in warm shades of gold and families were slowly making their way toward the parking lots carrying balloons, show bags and sleepy children.
Behind me, Ben and Hunter were debating the correct way to load the display motorcycles onto the trailer.
Judging by the volume of the discussion, neither of them had any intention of admitting the other might be right and I smiled to myself.
"You'd think they were rebuilding an engine instead of loading a trailer." I said and Diesel glanced up at me before continuing beside my leg.
"Congratulations." Someone said and I turned to t
