Chris Leek

Spare Parts

By Chris Leek

I told her I was just passing through; when you think about it I guess we all are, in a way.

In a state the size of Texas, Brackettville won't even show up on most maps. Its just a small town you pass on your way to somewhere else. If you happen be tuning the radio or unwrapping your gum you might not even notice it go by. It sure ain't the kind of place you stop in for long, least that's what I thought back then.

Things would have worked out different if my old side-step had spat a rod out on the 90, instead of deciding to throw it on the patched gravel lot of that diner. I would have supped my coffee, finished my pie and been back on the highway. Probably never even thought about her again, or if I did it would just be in passing, maybe seeing the way her skirt hugged her hips as she leaned across the counter.

After all the years I spent on the drift, I thought the road dust was ground in way too deep for me to put down in one spot. When she smiled her smile, I knew different. If you ever hit a blind bend you didn't see coming you'll know the feeling. All I could do was cling to the wheel, try to roll with it and hope like hell I made the turn. Call it fate if you like or better yet luck. It don't matter how you figure it up, you can't change it and the truth of it is you never will.

Looking back it ain't always been an easy ride, I don't think much in this life is. That said, we both know we're better together than ever we were apart. Funny how it’s always the little things, like stopping for a cup of coffee and a piece of cherry pie that end up changing everything.

Chris Leek lives mostly in Cambridge, England and occasionally in Henderson, Nevada. He writes mainly for the hell of it and perhaps also for the good of his soul. Recent examples of his work can be found at sites such as: The Molotov Cocktail, Near to the Knuckle and In Between Altered States.

If you want to know more, visit http://nevadaroadkill.blogspot.com.