Chapter Twenty-Two
Ben’s upper body was shielded from the chilly and unexpected Northern California rainstorm by the raised hood of the pickup. His lower half was already soaked. He shivered, his head wobbling as he poured the second bottle of oil down his truck’s gullet. A quarter of the oil puddled on the pavement somewhere under the engine. His beloved truck was bleeding out. Every two hours or so the oil light would come on and the engine would start chugging and slurring. The truck was not prepared to traverse the country and back again. She had planned to die a peaceful death hauling sheets of plywood from the hardware store to Ben’s cabin. Easy, fitting, an honorable death for an almost forty-year-old pickup. Doing what she was built to do. This, though, this was just cruel.
“Sorr
