What in the name of...

Your eyes open to a gorgeous day, the sky the brightest of blues. No cloud obscures the bright yellow sun as it begins to clean up the water still on the ground from the quickly passing rainstorm.

You laugh in mirth as you realize your day has gotten significantly better from the get go. The storm must have past while you were bathing, leaving nothing but a clear sky to guide you to work. But how?

"John!" Your thought's are interrupted by a shout from aside you. Almost instinctively, you raise your hand and call back. "Mr. Lindblad!"

A grey bearded man waves from behind the open hood of a pick up truck,his arms stained with engine fluids and other substances. "How you doing, lad?"

Mr. Lindblad was a kindly old Vietnam veteran that dwelled in the apartment aside your's. He was a gentlemen, as much as one could be still dressed in army fatigues and scavenging for essentials.

"I'm doing very good, Mr. Lindblad."

He smiles a toothy smile and returns to the broken down truck. The poor man had found the car on the side of the road and you had helped him push it into the apartment parking lot. He was convinced with enough work it would run and he would be able to be more mobile and perhaps find a job.

But you had looked at the engine and saw traces of Sugar in it. The car was dead and only a new, and expensive, engine would make it work. You didn't have the heart to ruin the only plan the poor man had.

You smile and sigh, wishing that the car would work so that the old vet would have a modicum of happyness.

"WHEE~EE HA!" You hear a few dozen steps later, turning around to see Mr. Limblad turn into the road. The truck, miraculously, was purring as Limblad pulls aside you, the biggest smile you had ever seen plastered on his face.

"Hop in, John, i'll give ya a ride!" He shouts, his excitement eclipsing his ability to control his volume.