After Garland, we still hung out with Dave. Rossiter moved into the Garland house, and later they moved to another house in Carrollton. We didn’t really see all that much of Dave during those days. I hate driving to Carrolton.

We did make it up occasionally, though. There were several parties and at one point, Dave inherited a bike from a co-worker. Phil would make the drive up to help Dave with the bike. The first day they got it to turn over, Dave was all happy-bouncy and it filled Phil with a certain paternal joy to see that.

After Rossiter moved to Austin (then to Denmark), Dave got an apartment close to us. He was just up the street from our place in an efficiency near Audelia and Walnut. The bike was moved out to Phil’s storage unit in Garland (with Sabine and her New Red Dress).

The efficiency was outrageously priced. Dave was spending too much on it and his lease ended in November of 2000. We offered our spare bedroom at no cost—both of us wanted to help Dave out of the mess that Madame S. had left him with in Garland and that Rossiter hadn’t been able to help with in Carrollton.

At that time, Phil and I had picked up a lousy toast-job with some fly-by-night computer-refurbishing place. Kris had gotten us the position (and the bastards let her go first night!) and so there was a position open. Dave was looking for extra income besides his position at NCO, so he took it as an evening job.

The bus-lines near our place weren’t as easy as the lines near his old apartment, so Phil and I were taking turns driving Dave up to the Central Bus Transfer (CBT). After the toast job went away (end of contract—just in time for Christmas) Dave was the only one in our place with a job.

And Phil had lost the storage unit in Garland, but was able to move everything of worth up to his dad’s in Denison. It’s sad really, because there was a perfectly good BMW 2002 hulk that poor Phil couldn’t GIVE away and a 1978 Dodge Truck (was it a Warlock? No one was sure) that had to go to the pound because SOMEONE lost the title. It was a perfectly good vehicle and would have been really handy to have, and a lot of work had been put into it, but there was no way to get it legal without the TITLE and the last person who had the TITLE seemed to MISPLACE it. And I even made a request, as they were hauling the thing away, that if SOMEONE should ever find the TITLE that they please NOT tell Phil and just burn the thing because by then the truck would be scrap metal. And lo-and-behold, SOMEONE found the TITLE two days later and called Phil to tell him and that was some bad blood for a couple of months.

Dave was getting tired of the bus and we were getting tired of the early morning rush-hour drive to the CBT and back. So in December of 2000, Dave got a bike. A new bike. A brand-new Honda Night Hawk. Dave was now a biker. He had the leather pants (two pairs!) and the leather jacket and the goggles, helmet, gloves…the whole nine yards. No fringe—anywhere.

And he rode that bike in the rain. And he rode it in the cold. And he rode it in the wind. And he rode it in the dead heat of Texas summer. And we made fun of “Banker Gangs” who only ride on the weekend, and only when it’s nice.

And Gavin had some old saddlebags from his bike out in Cali, so Dave used those too.

And then Dave started to get creative.

He had this hat…just a stupid Wal-Mart hunter’s fedora in autumn camo…but he wanted a better way to carry it on the bike. So he added a snap on the front and grommet on the back and it snapped to his saddlebag.

And then he wanted to be able to listen to CD’s but didn’t want the CD player on him, so he put a transmitter in his backpack and attached it to his CD player and then all he needed on him were the speakers and tiny receiver.

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