I took the wet pants and shirt I'd stripped out of the night before and hung them where the sun would dry them, then headed over to check out the bike...I'd been a Harley fan in my younger years. My affection for the machines had grown out of my nickname, which was a corruption of my name Harold Lee. Grandma Williams had called me Harley almost from the day I was born, and over the years, the rest of the family and then my friends had taken to calling me Harley as well. I'd even been called. " Am I supposed to do anything?" the impending martyr asked bemusedly. "I mean, make faces, stick my tongue out? Do I sit down or stand up or lay on the floor? Should I look scared or brazen?" Not know brazen. Best look very haughty. Eyes flash fire and hate." The corporal did his best to demonstrate. "But I must ask you to stand up straight and turn about so everyone see. Is bad with truck in motion, but you manage." He looked at her with sudden compassion. "Must take tarp off now."It was not. More

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