It had taken Billy, the tow truck driver who had been sent to rescue Jax and his now defunct motorcycle, over an hour to finally show up, and then it had taken him another 20 minutes to fill out all the paperwork he insisted his boss and the AAA needed before they could finally load the bike on the back of the truck. And then this kid - who couldn't have been much more than eighteen, Jax imagined - didn't have the strength or the mental capacity to know how to actually get Jax's motorcycle up the ramp and onto the truck, and so Jax had ended up doing it by himself. And, as if that weren't bad enough, on the thirty-minute ride to the Brighton Service Station and QuikLube, he had had to hear about this kid's fantasies about someday owning a bike like that and then "having to fight off all the hot babes with a stick!" Jax wished he had a stick at that very moment because he certainly knew what he'd do with it! He sighed as he realized that he had set out on this trek today to find peace and had instead somehow stumbled into purgatory!

And things did not seem to get any better once he and Billy had arrived at the service station. It seemed that the station had only one service bay and only one mechanic and now both of those were occupied by some guy with a late model Ford, who was screaming about being ripped off for expensive transmission work that was never even done! Jax glanced down at his Rolex and read "4:15 p.m.," then he glanced up at the sign in the office window of the service station that showed the hours as 8:00 am - 5:00 p.m., Monday - Friday; 8:00 am - 12 noon, Saturdays; closed Sundays. "Great! And it's Friday, no less!" he sighed. What were the odds that the guy with the Ford would have his problem resolved soon, and that the mechanic could quickly look at Jax's bike, and fix it, all before closing time? Jax shook his head and murmured, "Practically nonexistent!" Resignedly, he sat down by his bike and waited to be taken care of - or for hell to freeze over, whichever came first. And from his point of view, Jax thought Satan had better be stocking up on thermal wear soon!

"Wow! Great bike!" Jax heard someone exclaim about a half-hour later, which snapped him out of his catnap he had caught while waiting for service on his bike. He glanced around to see the owner of the Ford with transmission problems standing by his motorcycle and touching it reverently. "1998 Harley-Davidson Sportster! These things are harder to get than a winning Superball lottery ticket!" the man continued. "How much did it set you back?"

Jax stood up and got an amused look on his face, as the man - thirtyish, tall, and ruggedly handsome, and who was now gazing at his reflection in the side of Jax's sleek, black machine - gasped at Jax's reply: "Just under $15,000, with tax and title."

The man let out a low whistle. "Must be nice to have money!"

"It has its moments," Jax replied casually.

"Yeah, and this would be one of those moments!" the man countered. "Well, $15,000 is definitely too rich for my blood! But I'd give anything to someday get to ride one of these things, even though I know I could never afford to own one. Well, not if I wanted to eat and keep a roof over my head, at the same time!" he added, with a laugh.

The man's candor and humor made Jax laugh with him, and he suddenly felt an odd kinship with this stranger. "I'd offer to let you take it for a spin, but, unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be running at the moment."

"What seems to be the problem?" the man asked, still touching the bike as lovingly as he might touch a woman.

"Well, that's what I was hoping they could tell me here, but-" he glanced down at his watch which now read: 4:50 p.m., and sighed, "- it doesn't look like they'll get to it today."

"Sorry about that! That was my fault, I'm afraid," the man said apologetically. "This place has only one service bay, and all waiting, all the time! But it's the only game for miles around, and so it still gets lots of business."

"Well, since it looks like I am going to be staying the night, could you tell me where I could find a bite to eat and a room for the night?" Jax asked, as he suddenly realized that he hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast at 6:00 that morning.

"Well, there's the diner, which is only about 4 blocks that way," he pointed to Jax's left, "but it specializes in lots of bad coffee and even more grease, so I wouldn't recommend that unless you're a local, and they all seem to have built up a tolerance to it!" He pointed behind Jax, "Now, about 10 miles that way is a little motel with a restaurant in it. It doesn't look like much from the outside, but the rooms are clean and comfortable, and the food is great. Nothing fancy, of course - just good, old-fashioned American-style cooking. The kind of meal that makes you feel hugged after you've eaten it!" the man added, with another laugh.

"Well, I could really go for a hug after the day I've had today, so I guess I'll opt for that!" Jax laughed, realizing that he really liked this guy, whoever he was. "Now my next question is: is there a taxi service in this town?"

That really made the man laugh. "In Brighton? Not a chance! In fact, it only has one stoplight, so there's very little need for a taxi!"

Jax shook his head and sighed, "I suppose not."

And then Jax was totally surprised by what the man said next: "Hop in the car. I'll drop you at the motel. In fact, it's on my way home. Besides, I feel responsible that Ed didn't get to your bike today, so I'd really feel better if I could at least give you a lift somewhere." The man extended his right hand out to Jax. "My name is Tom, by the way."

Jax's eyes twinkled as he shook Tom's hand. "Nice to meet you, Tom. My name's Jax."

Jax talked to the mechanic, whose coverall indicated his name was Ed, and helped him get the motorcycle locked inside the shop, and then Jax told him where he could be reached. Then he slipped him a $100 bill and told him there was another $100 in it for him if he could have the bike fixed before noon, and Jax picked up from the motel as well. Ed had grinned happily, and said he was sure he could accommodate him. Then Jax went to where Tom and his late model Ford Taurus, with its now- good-as -new-transmission, were waiting to take him to the motel/restaurant.

Jax opened the front door of the car just in time to see Tom gently placing a dozen red roses, that he had removed from the front passenger seat, into the back seat on a new CD player, taking care not to crush the delicate petals of the flowers.

"Normally, I'd offer to put you up for the night, but..." Tom started.

"But it looks like you have very definite plans for the evening, " Jax finished for him, as he glanced at the wine bottle, the flowers, the sack of groceries, and the stack of CDs, many of which he recognized as ones he and Brenda had often used to "create a mood." Jax smiled at the memory of their many days and nights of romance and passion.

Tom blushed slightly. "Yeah, well, I'm not sure how they'll turn out, but I do have plans." He glanced at Jax, who was suddenly very quiet. "Are you married?"

Jax looked at him, and Tom swore that a look of intense pain flashed over Jax's face, but then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "No. Engaged," Jax replied, trying to plaster a smile that he did not feel onto his face.

"Really? When's the wedding?" Tom asked, suddenly eager to learn more about his hitchhiker.

"It was supposed to be November 5..." Jax's voice trailed off, as he looked out the window.

"Supposed to be?" Tom pried. "Did something happen to postpone it?" Tom couldn't believe the invasive questions that were coming put of his mouth.

"Yeah, my fiancée is away..."

"Away? Like on business, or something?" Tom continued to push.

"Or something..." Jax replied softly.

Then suddenly, out of the blue, Jax's melancholy disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and he felt a wave of almost pure joy wash over him. For the first time in days, his heart was again certain that Brenda was alive, but now also he "knew" he was close to finding her. He couldn't explain it, but it was there and as real as Tom's plans of romance with the woman he loved.

"Do you have a picture of her?" Tom asked.

"Huh?" Tom's voice dragged Jax back from his epiphany. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

But by then, Tom was turning into the drive of the Pine Cone Motel and Restaurant, so Tom merely said, "We're here!" as he eased the car to a stop.

Jax held out his hand to Tom, just before he got out of the car. "Thanks for the ride. It was good to meet you, and I hope that your evening turns out the way it's meant to be."

Tom shook his hand, and smiled, "From your lips to heaven's ears - and Angel's, too." That last bit puzzled Jax, but before he could ask what that meant, Tom had added, "I hope you get that magnificent bike of yours up and running soon! Take care!" And then Tom left, racing back out onto the highway like a bat out of hell.

"He's definitely a man on a mission!" Jax laughed. But as he headed toward the front door of the motel, he envied that Tom would most likely be making love with the woman he loved before the night was over, and Jax would have to settle for yet another night of memories of his and Brenda's passion together. Suddenly Jax was acutely aware of who the richer man was, and he hoped Tom appreciated that.