Page 97 of The Side Road
REASSEMBLY
The problem with rare and classic bikes is that there are no manuals to follow. No YouTube videos to consult. No friends who can offer advice. You’re on your own. Restoring these vintage beauties becomes trial and error. Every turn of the wrench is a step into the unknown.
Soon you’ll realise that the reconstruction is also a dance with history, a careful balancing act between preserving authenticity and informed speculation based on intuition. Without a step-by-step guide, the restoration becomes a labour of love that will test your patience and ingenuity.
If possible, start the repairs without swearing. Remember, doing something with your hands is rewarding.
31
A GHOST
Oliver checked the bedside clock:1 a.m. He wasn’t sleeping. Three nights had passed since his heartbreaking conversation with Mia. Fleeing the garage, she had turned her back on him and walked out of his life. He was struggling to understand her motivation; there were so many other options besides panicking, recoiling at the first hurdle, and running away. If you came off your bike, you picked yourself up and got on with it. If nothing was broken – and it wasn’t – you continued, even if the climb was slow. But not Mia; she had fled.
After Mia had left, Oliver returned to the kitchen to find Cindy waiting for him.
‘What happened?’ she had asked.
‘Not your concern. Cindy, I don’t want to give you an ultimatum.’
‘Then don’t. Oliver, I’m in love with you.’
‘And I’m in love with Mia. That’s not going to change. If this – you and me building a life together – is your plan, then you need to make a new one.’
‘I know.’ Anxiously, she was wringing her hands. ‘I’m sorry. I thought we had something, and I came here to see if you felt the same way. Obviously not, but I had to check.’ She shrugged. ‘Can’t blame a girl for trying.’
While Cindy continued to apologise, Oliver rubbed his temples. The dull throbbing behind his eyes mirrored the ache in his heart. When he sighed, the sound was lost in Cindy's increasing murmurs. What a mess they were in, but his situation wasn’t entirely Cindy’s fault. Soon they began a long conversation.
She explained her reasons for leaving her family and her need to escape a small country town in rural Victoria, very much like Eagle Nest, at twenty-one, to live and work in the outback. Confessing to unprotected sex with Steve, in hindsight, her pregnancy hadn’t been a surprise. But while she loved the Kimberley, she didn’t want to raise a child on a cattle station.
At one point, Oliver had tried to talk up Steve’s better qualities; the man was loyal to a fault, and he possessed a work ethic that bordered on the fanatical. He deserved a chance and if anyone could smooth away his rough edges, it was Cindy. She remained unconvinced until Oliver pointed out that Steve was the baby’s father and he might have other ideas. She didn’t have sole custody of this child. Then a flicker of uncertainty had crossed her face. The implications, previously obscured by fear and protectiveness, had hit her with brutal clarity and a slow burn of understanding filled her eyes.
Finally, he had asked, ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Actually, there is something you can do for me,’ she had replied.
Later that afternoon, with a platonic hug, Cindy was gone.
Mia’s research into Oliver’s past had been limited. There were things she hadn’t uncovered, and he was happy her investigation had only gone so far. Some secrets were best discovered in due time, and this brought him some peace.
He saw Mia for who she was, though. He appreciated her womanhood, her value as a creative human, and the joy she got from life. The way she dressed, her beautiful pale skin and blue eyes. Her excellent cooking skills increased her attractiveness. He loved her – he knew this – and, given time, he thought she might come around. She might change her mind. But he also knew she was a woman of habit.
Some people devoted a lot of time and energy to avoiding love. They deployed strategies to wiggle out of relationships. When things got serious, they pulled back. When times were tough, they packed their bags and ran away. Mia might be one of those people.
The bedroom door creaked. Oliver opened his eyes. It was dark, but a wedge of light from the hallway seeped into the room and silhouetted against the frame was Tash. As the light expanded, she stepped into the room. She wasn’t a child who scared easily – her bed was her safe place, and she loved her room – but occasionally she needed company in the early hours.
‘Hey, you want to get in with me?’ Oliver asked. When he drew the covers back, she climbed in beside him, and he took hold of her hand. ‘You want to talk about it?’
Tash lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. ‘I heard something,’ she said. ‘A mechanical sound.’
‘Was it a motorbike?’ For a moment, Oliver felt his dreams of coaching a champion under-sixteen team reignite.
‘No. It was a whirring sound. I realised it was Nan, in the kitchen, using the beater.’
‘The beater?’
‘The hand beater – for making cakes. I found her in the kitchen baking.’
‘Just now?’
