Vin slouched against the waiting room counter and eyed the fastidiously dressed man who sat flipping thru the pages of his WSJ. Frowning, the Texan looked outside, and sighed, but the crew was still hand detailing the classic black car. Tossing his sticky donut wrapper in the trash, he flopped down in the empty seat beside his friend.
"Is something on your mind, Mister Tanner?" Ezra questioned, never taking his eyes from the stock quotes he was reading.
Vin fidgeted on the seat, then blurted, "Yep, there is." He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to offend the southerner. "Was wonderin' if I could ask ya somethin'?"
The southerner nodded. "Of course you may." He flashed a wicked grin, “But that doesn’t mean I’ll answer,” he half teased.
"Why's that car so damn special ta ya? I mean ya let me eat and drink in the Lexus, but ya won't let a crumb near the Camero. It's just a ride, ain't it?"
Ezra studied the page in front of him then slowly folded the newspaper neatly on its creases and folded it yet again. Only then did he look up at the puzzled face of the man beside him. "Yes, Mister Tanner, as you say, it is only a ride. The same as your Harley is just a ride."
The Texan chewed at his lower lip, stifling a smile. "I'll give ya that, but ya treat that car like it's made outta solid gold. I seen ya park as far from Buck's truck as ya can so’s it don’t get the paint chipped when he throws gravel. Ya wash it and have it detailed at least once a week, sometimes two and three times a week…. Ya won't drive it in bad weather. I know it's pretty and all, but ya got some other reason?"
Ezra realized his friend wasn't being meddlesome, he was just inquisitive and in the other man's boots, he might have asked the same thing. "Well, you see, Mister Tanner, I won that car on a bet."
"A bet?" Vin questioned in disbelief.
Ezra nodded. "I was probably eighteen or so, and was in this high stakes game. The highest stakes I'd ever played up to that point. I'd been saving for months to get in that game." It was one of the first times since striking out on his own that he hadn't been living on the streets. "I'd watched that particular game and the players many times and knew each of their tells. It finally came down to this other fellow and me. He was down to his last and tossed the title to the vehicle in the pot. I'd seen the car and knew that edition of the 1968 Camero was quite rare and worth much more than the amount in the pot. The gentleman collected cars like Mr. Wilmington collects women and that particular vehicle was one of his favorites."
"But if he had that much money how come he put up his car?"
"To keep the game fair, they played by certain standards. Each person started out with the same amount of money and once that was gone, you were no longer in the game. Being older gentlemen, they thought it would teach me a good lesson when I lost what I had worked so hard to scrape together. I think they they thought I wouldn't be able to resist such a prize."
The sharpshooter grinned. "Figured ta teach the cocky newcomer not ta mess with 'em?"
"Exactly." Ezra grinned. "They suspended the rules and allowed him to raise the wager with that beautiful piece of machinery. So I pushed everything sitting in front of me into the pot and called him and…" the gambled smiled slightly, remembering the unforgettable bittersweet moment, "....he lost."
"That's been a lotta years, Ez. Ya's bound ta have been low on funds along the way. Why didn't ya sell it?" Tanner questioned softly. There'd been many times when Vin had gone hungry rather than sell his beloved Harley, but he was certain there was more to the story than the gambler had imparted.
"Oh, I had plenty of offers. I still do. And several times I actually considered it, but…." The gambler sighed. "You see, Vin, my mother was not at all pleased with that one particular game of chance. She was even less pleased over the fact I actually won the car. So, she….what would be the word?.... had it stripped."
"She didn't!" Vin declared incredulously, his blue eyes wide in disbelief, although knowing Maude, he wouldn't put something like that past her.
"Yes. I went out the following morning and it had been stripped down to the frame. Literally everything was taken…. Down to the door handles, steering wheel and chrome trim. I, against her wishes, took it to a repair man who was a connoisseur of classics, and he repaired, or rather rebuilt it for me, finding all original parts. I sometimes wonder if he didn't end up purchasing the very parts which were taken from it in the first place." A small smile of derision crossed his lips. "After he repaired it, I simply could not bear to part with it. It was a solid aide memoire everyday. It had cost me a bundle, but I had beaten my mother at her own game."
"But," Tanner frowned, "why did yer Ma do that? I mean...I thought she taught ya how ta play. Reckoned she'd be right proud ya beat them fellas. Didn't she want ya havin' a car a yer own? Or wasn't it up ta her standards?"
Ezra laughed, the delightful sound echoing in the small room. "Oh, indeed, Mister Tanner. I can assure you this vehicle was without a doubt up to her standards. You see, the gentleman I won it from was her second --or was he her third?-- husband."
THE END