Harlow
“You like it?" Cyrus asked as if he couldn't tell by the expression on my face.
In front of my trailer, next to Cyrus's bike, sat a vintage motorcycle with a paint job that matched my car exactly.
“I LOVE it! Is that a Triumph Thunderbird?"
Cyrus nodded. “1956," he said with a smile.
“And the paint?"
“Wilderness green, just like your car."
“Where the hell did you get this?" I started to get teary-eyed.
“It was my dad's," Cyrus replied. “The paint job I called in as a favor from a body shop in Skeetwood County."
“Are you sure you wanna give this to me? I mean, if it was your dad's?"
“I want you to have it," Cyrus said, pulling me to him.
At this point, I couldn't stop the waterworks if I'd wanted to.
“This is the most incredible gift anyone's ever given me," I said, wipin
