“I’ll drive,” Doc told Jim, opening the passenger door for him. Jim eyed Doc’s truck. The eight-inch scratch showed signs of rust. Jim shook his head, no.

“You’ve been tryin’ to drive us places ever since you put that gash in the passenger side door. I remember. Ya almost killed me. I told you once, and I’m telling you again. Probably for the fifth time. Ain’t gonna happen. Ain’t no way I’m doin’ that. You can ride with me, or you can drive yourself. But you ain’t drivin’. Not with me in the passenger seat!”

“Fine. I’ll ride with you.” Doc slammed the passenger door hard enough that the bell on the diner’s door rang. Kathy poked her head outside.

“You boys okay?” She shielded her eyes with her hand. “Thought I heard someone slamming a door. That wouldn’t be you, would it, Doc?” Doc’s face reddened. Janice rushed past Kathy, shouting at Doc, teeth clenching the cigarette as she attempted to keep the smoke from blowing back into her eyes.

“Doc! Dang it, now! I told you about slamming doors, didn’t I? I won’t stand for it now. You hear?” Finishing her tirade, Janice took another drag and threw the smoke at him.

Doc’s head lowered like a dog that was being reprimanded for pooping in the house. His face grew redder by the second. “Sorry, Ms. Janice. It’s just.” Doc was at a loss for words. He shouted back, “Everyone in this blasted town thinks I can’t drive just because I didn’t see that piece of metal stickin’ out of that construction truck headed to Des Moines.” Jim remembered it different than Doc. Considering that Jim was riding in the passenger seat when it happened! They were passing a construction truck, Doc looking out the driver’s side window at the Henderson’s ranch. Jim curled up in a ball on his side, a piece of steel or rebar sticking out of a construction truck parked off the highway managed to gouge Jim’s side of Doc’s truck.

“Pretty near killed me there, Doc!” Jim shouted.

“Yeah? Well, I ain’t like that no more. And I ain’t gotta take it from none of you!” Doc shouted, storming back to his own truck. He fumbled the keys, dropping them into the gravel lot. He let loose with a barrage of words he only said in frustration. They would pop out if he couldn’t get something to work quite right or an animal wasn’t cooperating. Kicking the gravel and letting out a few of his favorite cusswords, he climbed into the truck. Barely started, he put his right foot on the floor, throwing bits of gravel, dust, and dirt into a cloud. Through the cloud, Jim, Kathy, and Janice heard him shout a four-letter word, followed by y’all, and his middle finger stuck up loud and proud, like a strutting peacock.

Kathy coughed a few times. Janice lit another cigarette. “That man has his moments.” She took a drag, “But, he’s got a good heart. C’mon Kath. We got cleaning to do, especially after all that dirt Doc kicked up. Ooh. I could kill that man!” Taking another drag, she tossed it to the ground and stomped it out. Kathy thought if that was Doc’s head, Janice might have killed him. “Jim, get on over to Floyd’s and see ifn’s he’s okay.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m a goin’.”

“Good.” Janice started to walk inside the diner, Kathy right in front of her. “Come back, and I’ll make whatever you like. On me. Just let me know if that man’s okay, will ya?”

“Yes, ma’am. Be back in a bit.” Jim started his gas-guzzling Ford F-100, pressing the gas pedal a few times to keep it running. It coughed and sputtered a few times, but it finally idled enough so Jim could drive it slow out of the gravel parking lot. He didn’t need Janice to be mad at him, too.