“Not at all. I’m trying to fix it for someone…it’s a long story. But I’m so clueless that I don’t even know why it needs fixing. I was hoping you might tell me what’s wrong with it.”
I thought he would ask for more details than that, but instead he just hit the button to open the first garage door and set it down on the ground in front of him. “If you say so.”
With that, he placed one foot on the board and pushed off with the other, squatting to sail under the still-opening door and down the slope of the driveway beyond.
Smiling, I moved forward out into the driveway myself to watch. Brady had so awed me at the football game, I half expected him to take off down the street doing loops and flips and pipes or whatever they called those crazy stunts skateboarders did. Instead, he just took it up and down the sidewalk in front of the house a couple of times, shifting his weight and the placement of his feet here and there, hopping off and then back on, and weaving left and then right. Finally, he rolled back over to where I was standing, hopped off the board, and kicked down the tip of it with his foot. As he did, the other side flipped upward and he caught it.
“The problem is with the pivot cup,” he said, handing me the skateboard. “Did you see how it keeps veering to the side after I jump off? That can be bad news when you’re doing certain tricks, like a pop shove it or a kick flip.”
He tried to explain what each of those tricks involved, speaking animatedly and demonstrating with his hands.
“So you think the pivot cup is broken,” I reiterated when he was done.
“Probably not broken, more likely it’s just too tight and needs loosening up.”
As we walked back into the garage together, he went on to explain how I might go about doing that. It sounded simple enough, especially as it would require nothing more than sandpaper, a cloth, and some oil. I would have to take apart the whole front wheel assembly first, but that didn’t look too difficult. If I could dismantle and reassemble an entire buggy, piece by piece, then surely I could handle a couple of wheels and a single slab of wood covered in polyurethane.
“If you get in there and see that the pivot cup actually is broken,” he continued, “it’s not a hard fix, and a new one will only run you a couple of bucks. But let me know how it goes either way, because there’s always a chance I’m wrong and it’s a problem with the kingpin nut assembly instead, or maybe a bent hanger. Those get a little more expensive to replace, probably somewhere around twenty bucks.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep you posted.”
“No prob, bro.”
I stifled a smile as I the carried the skateboard over to its place against the wall. Even though I knew “bro” could be a slang term used with anyone, I chose to believe that in this case he really did mean brother.
Brady pressed the button to close the garage door again, then together we went inside, shut things down, and headed upstairs.
“You know, Brady, if this NFL thing doesn’t pan out, it seems as if you’re pretty mechanical,” I joked as we reached the top. “I could always put in a good word for you at the buggy shop.”
“Or maybe we could ditch the buggies and the NFL. That backpacking Europe thing is sounding better all the time.”
We shared a smile, and our parting “Good night” was by far the most amiable of this entire trip. As I moved into my bedroom and closed the door behind me, I knew I had not fixed anything between us, but I had begun the careful work of regaining Brady’s trust. And I was sure I had stumbled on an insight I needed to pay attention to.
Brady was restless. Just like me.
The next day, Monday, right after morning devotions, I calculated the time difference back home and decided to call the buggy shop.
Daadi answered. It was so good to hear his voice. I was overcome with how comfortable it felt to speak the everyday language of my childhood.
He asked me how I was, and I spent the first few minutes of our conversation telling him about the container gardens I was building for my stepmother, the sushi I had tried, and the worship service I had attended, leaving out spending the afternoon on Balboa Island with Lark and her camera. I did however, tell him about the trouble I was having with Brady. I knew Daadi would pray for me about this.
He then asked if God had revealed anything to me about what had brought me to Southern California in the first place. It felt good to tell him about the tender words I had sensed God speaking to me the day before, especially as I was now keenly aware that my motivations for coming had been centered too much on me alone. I didn’t tell him that I also believed I was in California to understand why my mother left Lancaster County. Whatever I discovered about that I would share with Daadi and Mammi in person, regardless of where my destiny lay.