He stopped to work out the kink in his back. Bad enough he had creaky knees, now he had a kinky back. And if that weren’t enough, he was reduced to walking on foot down the dirt path to Lorne Field because some delinquent punks stole his bike. He had asked Lydia to buy him a new one, but she refused, claiming they didn’t have the money. When Chester Conley owned the town’s sporting goods store he would’ve gladly given Durkin a free bike, but Chester had long since retired to Arizona, and his son who took over the shop didn’t see things the way Chester had. Now Durkin was going to have to wait until the first frost to figure out how he would raise enough money for a new bike, which left him stuck having to walk for the rest of the season. One more indignity piled upon all the rest. One more stinking burden to shoulder.

A black, black thought entered his head. He could teach them all a lesson. If he bought a bus ticket, he could be in California in three days. Probably take eight, maybe nine days for the Aukowies to mature, another week or so for them to ravage the land and make their way to the west coast. That’d give him more than two weeks of peace and quiet. Two weeks without some raisin-faced shrew picking the flesh off his tired old carcass. Two weeks without his ungrateful boys rolling their eyes and smirking at him. Best of all, two weeks without any condescending looks from those townsfolk when he walked past them. Oh boy, would that teach them! Let them see how funny their jokes were when Aukowies shred them into mincemeat! Of course the Aukowies would get his wife and boys first, not only because they were closest but ’cause of the grudge they held against him. They’d make ’em suffer. Probably take their time too, at least as much as an Aukowie could.