The Bug Light Boys — Episode 2: Human Jack

By Lloyd W. Alexander

Eagle Eye made the turn without thinking about it. That was new.

He realized what he had done only when his tires touched the rough edge of the parking area. Charlie’s vehicle was there, along with Big Donnie’s and Slim’s. He had seen them, turned in, and stopped. No argument with himself. No careful calculation of whether he was interrupting something.

Big Donnie looked up as he got out.

“There’s the kid.”

“What kid?”

“You.”

“I’m thirty-five.”

“Exactly.”

“Everybody’s a kid to him,” Slim said from his chair.

Big Donnie pointed at him. “You’re the same damn age.”

“Yeah, but I don’t look like hell.”

Charlie smiled without taking sides. Eagle Eye found an empty chair and sat. He had started to learn that here, a conversation might begin before he arrived, continue straight through his arrival, and not require him to prove he deserved to join it.

Big Donnie was halfway through a story about a trip from Portland to Bangor. Judging by Slim’s expression, the trip had grown longer, faster, and more dangerous each time it had been told.

“You weren’t there,” Big Donnie said.

“Thank God,” Slim answered.

Beyond the brush, the afternoon went about its business. Cars moved toward the boat launch. A plane crossed above the harbor. Across the water, Portland looked almost close enough to reach, though Eagle Eye knew how much road lay between here and home.

Then came a BANG.

Eagle Eye flinched. Big Donnie ducked. Slim was on his feet, and Charlie had already turned toward the road.

“I didn’t duck,” Big Donnie announced.

“Nobody said you did,” Slim replied.
“I didn't duck. I'm a Marine,” Big Donnie insisted.

A car had lurched toward the roadside. The driver eased it to a stop, and the front tire settled at an ugly angle.

“Come on,” Charlie said.

Nobody asked where. Eagle Eye was already moving with them.

The driver, a middle-aged man, had both hands tight on the wheel. His wife sat beside him, staring toward the damaged tire as though it might explode again.

Charlie reached the window first. “Everybody okay? Anybody hurt?”

“We’re all right,” the man said. “Scared us half to death.”

“Understandable,” Charlie said. “You’re off the road. That’s the important part.” He leaned slightly to see the woman. “You all right, ma’am?”

She nodded, not quite trusting her voice.

Charlie looked at the tire only after he was satisfied neither of them was injured.

“We called AAA,” the driver said.

“By the time they get here,” Big Donnie said, “you’ll need a hotel.”

“You have a spare?” Slim asked, ignoring him.

“In the trunk, I think.”

“Pop it,” Big Donnie said. “We’ll have you out of here.”

Charlie returned briefly toward the clearing and came back carrying water. He offered the bottles to the couple before anyone began work. Big Donnie watched him.

“What is this, a convenience store?”

“Water,” Charlie said.

“Next you’ll bring out sandwiches.”

“Would you like one?”

Big Donnie considered it. “What kind?”

Slim had already opened the trunk and inspected the spare. He took one look at the factory jack and shook his head.

“Nope.”

He disappeared toward his truck. Eagle Eye followed him and watched as Slim produced a sturdier jack, a breaker bar, sockets, gloves, a flashlight, and a piece of wood. Then another flashlight.

“Do you have a spare engine in there?” Big Donnie called.

“Wrong side,” Slim said.

Charlie glanced at Eagle Eye. “He’s kidding.”

Slim did not confirm it.

Big Donnie crouched to position the jack. Slim looked down.

“Three inches over.”

“I know where it goes.”

“Then put it there.”

“That’s where I was going.”

Slim turned to Eagle Eye. “Remember this. He’ll eventually claim the whole thing was his idea.”

The couple had come from Massachusetts. Big Donnie regarded the license plate with theatrical suspicion.

“Maine roads knew you were from Massachusetts.”

“Be nice,” Charlie said.

“I am being nice.”

“To Massachusetts?”

“I’m changing their tire.”

“You're supervising the changing of their tire,” Slim corrected.

Big Donnie gripped the wrench and tried a lug nut. His face tightened. He shifted his weight and tried again. A low grunt escaped him.

Slim, bent beneath the edge of the car to check the jack placement, said, “Don't break yourself.”

“I've got it.”

He made one more attempt, then handed the wrench to Eagle Eye.

“Your turn.”

Eagle Eye took it. “You sure?”

“I'm supervising.”

“He's tired,” Slim said.

Big Donnie stood up. “I loosened it for him.”

Eagle Eye braced himself and pulled. The nut broke free with a sharp metallic sound.

“See? I loosened it,” Big Donnie said.

“You grunted at it,” Slim answered.

“That’s part of loosening it.”

Eagle Eye smiled and moved to the next one.

There was no discussion about who was in charge. Slim checked the jack, the rim, the suspension, and the spare. Big Donnie kept one eye on passing traffic and issued instructions nobody had asked for. Charlie stayed close enough to the couple to reassure them and kept the tools moving where they were needed. Eagle Eye did the heavy work because he could.

The driver watched the operation with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief.

“You guys do this for everybody?”

Charlie looked at him, genuinely puzzled by the question.

“You were here.”

He said it as though that explained everything. To Charlie, perhaps it did.

Big Donnie pointed at Eagle Eye. “I'm teaching the kid how to do it right.”

“He’s working. You’re talking,” Slim said.

“That’s how you teach.”

“Then you’re a professor.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

The wheel came free. They fitted the spare. Eagle Eye tightened the nuts in the order Slim showed him. Big Donnie talked through every step, sometimes just ahead of the action, sometimes several steps behind it.

When the last nut was secure, Big Donnie clapped Eagle Eye on the shoulder.

“Good job, kid.”

“Thanks.”

“You did exactly what I told you.”

Slim made a final inspection and told the driver to get the wheel checked properly, have the alignment looked at if the impact had been hard, and not to drive like an idiot on the spare.

Big Donnie spread his hands. “That's his way of saying have a nice vacation.”

“No,” Slim said. “I meant what I said.”

The driver offered money. Charlie declined before the man had finished reaching for his wallet. The woman hugged Charlie, who looked a little surprised but hugged her back.

They drove away slowly, and the four men stood watching until the car was safely around the bend.

Only then did Eagle Eye realize something strange.

He hadn't been afraid.

The bang had come, the car had lurched, Charlie had moved, and he had moved too. He hadn't wondered whether he should go, whether he'd be in the way, what he ought to say, where he should stand, or whether anybody wanted him there. Something needed doing, so he did it.

Now that it was over, his mind began catching up. Had he said enough to the couple? Had he looked foolish taking the wrench? Had Big Donnie really loosened that nut first?

“Good job,” Big Donnie said, more quietly this time.

“Thanks.”

For once, that was enough.

Slim was loading his equipment back into the truck. Eagle Eye noticed a folding shovel tucked behind a box.

“What do you need a shovel for?” Big Donnie asked.

“Snow.”

“It’s July.”

“It won't always be.”

A coil of rope came next.

“You’ve never needed rope?” Slim asked.

“Not recently.”

“That’s because you don’t have any.”

Big Donnie shook his head. “If civilization collapses, we're moving into your truck.”

“No, you don’t.”

They returned to the clearing with the familiar satisfaction of people who had finished a job and could now argue about how it had been done.

Maggie arrived not long afterward. Her greeting had barely left her mouth when Big Donnie stood and pointed toward Eagle Eye.

“Maggie… You are looking at a human jack.”

Maggie looked him over, then looked at Big Donnie.

“A real jackass, sure.”

Slim laughed first. Charlie tried not to.

“Not me,” Big Donnie protested. “The kid.”

“What did you boys do?” Maggie asked.

“Saved two lives,” Big Donnie announced.

“A tire blew,” Slim said.

“Bang!” Big Donnie slapped his hands together. “Tire explodes. Car comes flying in.”

“It popped,” Charlie said.

“Exploded.”

“Popped.”

“Violently,” Big Donnie amended.

“Pothole,” Slim supplied.

“The car was going sideways,” Big Donnie continued.

“Three feet,” Slim said.

“Toward danger.”

“What danger?” Maggie asked.

“The road.”

“They were already on the road,” Charlie said.

“Terrifying,” Maggie said solemnly.

Eagle Eye sat back and listened. He was beginning to recognize the rhythm. Big Donnie's stories grew. Slim cut pieces off them. Charlie poked holes where the facts wouldn't hold. Maggie encouraged the storyteller just enough to make everything worse. Somewhere in the middle, the truth usually survived.

“And Charlie,” Big Donnie said, “sets up an emergency relief station. Drinks, snacks, half a grocery store.”

“Water,” Charlie said.

“That’s because Charles takes care of everybody,” Maggie said.

“Don’t Charles me.”

“Oh, we’re touchy today.”

Big Donnie resumed the account of his coordination of traffic, equipment, and manpower.

“Manpower?” Maggie asked.

He pointed at Eagle Eye.

All at once Eagle Eye became aware that the others could turn toward him. The familiar little hesitation returned. He searched for a response that would be funny enough but not too funny, confident but not boastful.

“Kid did well,” Big Donnie said.

“He did,” Charlie agreed.

Eagle Eye looked down. “Thanks.”

“After you gave him the lug wrench you couldn’t move,” Slim reminded Big Donnie.

“I loosened it.”

“You grunted.”

“You grunted twice,” Charlie added.

“Second one was louder,” Slim said.

Maggie laughed, and Eagle Eye laughed with her.

“What are you laughing at?” Big Donnie demanded. “I gave you the easy part.”

Eagle Eye smiled but didn't answer. For once, being part of the joke didn’t feel like being the target of it.

“You believe any of this?” Maggie asked him.

The question brought back the old pressure: find the right answer, don't disappoint anyone, don't sound stupid.

“Don’t ask him. He was actually working,” Charlie said.

“Only reliable witness we’ve got,” Slim added.

“Unbelievable,” Big Donnie said.

Eagle Eye liked Charlie's answer better than anything he had been trying to invent.

Maggie began counting on her fingers. “So Charlie ran the refreshment stand, Slim brought the hardware store, Eagle Eye changed the tire, and Donnie stood in the road waving his arms.”

“I coordinated a rescue.”

“At your age, standing upright that long is impressive.”

“You're older than the kid too,” Big Donnie said.

“Yes, but I still have my looks.”

“According to who?”

Maggie turned slowly toward him. “Would you like to finish that sentence, Donnie?”

“No.”

“See? Still got your judgment too.”

Big Donnie sat down to regroup.

“I’m just saying, for a bunch of old farts sitting in the bushes, you did all right,” Maggie said.

“Old?” Big Donnie asked.

“Which part confused you?”

“She’s got a point,” Slim said.

“Whose side are you on?”

“Mine.”

Charlie waited for the laughter to ease.

“We did all right.”

It wasn't much of a sentence. Eagle Eye heard it anyway. We. Not you guys. Not the boys. Not everybody except the younger fellow who had wandered into their clearing. Charlie had said we, and nobody had thought to correct him.

“Yeah,” Slim said.

“Not half bad,” Big Donnie conceded.

“For old guys,” Slim added.

“Speak for yourself.”

“Denial,” Maggie said. “First sign of old age.”

“I am not old.”

“Donnie, we’re old,” Charlie said.

“You too?” Big Donnie asked, betrayed.

Eagle Eye laughed with the rest of them.

The afternoon settled back into itself. Maggie demanded Slim's version of events, the one she said might be admissible in court. Someone opened chips. Slim checked that a socket hadn't been left behind. Beyond the brush, the road was quiet again.

“Kid,” Big Donnie said.

“What?”

Big Donnie pointed at himself. “Human jack.”

“You couldn’t loosen one lug nut,” Slim said.

The clearing filled with laughter again.

A few weeks ago, Charlie had made room for him in a chair. Today, without anybody saying so, they'd made room for him in something else. He didn't have to understand it yet. For now, it was enough that when the tire blew, he'd gotten up with them. And when it was over, he'd come back and sat down with them too.

He stayed.