David Dobbins races to work
David Dobbins works at a grocer in central Memphis, Tennessee. He is a loyal, dutiful employee of many years, starting there during high school. He was going to work there for a year to save money for college but ultimately he never attended university.
He never misses work, but is sometimes late because he spends every off-hour playing video games. The lateness is becoming a problem for Mr. Murray, the longtime owner and humorless general manager of the store.
He pulled David aside one day in the canned food aisle to explain he may be fired if it continues. David tried to explain he is trying to improve his skills so he can enter the big online video game competition at the end of the month, a short two weeks away.
The other problem David has is his 25-year-old car only starts half the time and he has to push it, engage the clutch and hope it jump starts. David’s heart sank as Mr. Murray spoke, and a knot formed in his stomach. He knew he had been late for work too many times recently, but he couldn’t help it. His mind was preoccupied with the upcoming competition, and he was doing everything he could to improve his skills.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Murray,” David said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I know I’ve been late a few times, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Mr. Murray shook his head. “David, you’ve been a loyal employee for many years, but I can’t keep letting this slide. If you’re not here on time, it puts a strain on the rest of the team.”
David nodded, feeling helpless. He couldn’t afford to lose his job, not right before the competition.
As he walked home that evening, his mind raced with ideas. That’s when he saw an old, beat-up motorcycle for sale on the side of the road. It was nothing fancy, but it was cheap. David knew he couldn’t afford much, but maybe he could use the bike to get to work on time and still have time to practice.
He approached the seller, an elderly man with a long white beard. “How much for the bike?” he asked.
The man looked him up and down, sizing him up. “Two hundred dollars,” he finally said.
David winced. He only had a hundred dollars in savings. “I can’t afford that,” he said, turning to leave.
“Wait,” the man said, holding up a hand. “I’ll make you a deal. Two hundred dollars or you help me get free food when I shop at the store. You pretend I paid but I walk out with the food for three months. Deal?” David hesitated. It was a shady deal, and he didn’t want to get in trouble at work. But he also couldn’t afford to lose his job, and the thought of riding the motorcycle to work made him feel hopeful.
“Deal,” he finally said, extending his hand.
The man grinned, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. “You’re a smart one,” he said. “I’ll have the motorcycle delivered to your house tomorrow.”
David felt a mix of excitement and apprehension as he walked home. He didn’t want to help someone shoplift, but he also couldn’t wait to try out his new ride.
The next morning, he woke up early and headed outside to wait for the motorcycle to arrive. He heard the sound of an engine in the distance, and soon enough the old, beat-up bike pulled up in front of his house.
It was even more run-down than he had realized, with rust one every surface, even the speedometer — so badly rusted it was hard to read. He took it out for a test ride.
At first, the motorcycle sputtered and coughed, clearly in need of some love and attention. But as he rode it around the block a few times, he could feel it start to respond to his touch. The wind in his face and the rumble of the engine beneath him made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He knew he had to be careful, though. He’d never ridden a motorcycle before, and he didn’t want to risk getting into an accident. So he took it slow, practicing on quiet streets and empty parking lots until he felt comfortable enough to take it to work.
The next morning, he woke up even earlier than usual for work and headed out into the cool, crisp morning air. He could feel his heart pounding with excitement as he straddled the motorcycle and turned the key in the ignition. To his relief, it started up on the first try, and he took off down the road, the wind whipping through his hair.
He was surprised when Mr. Murray pulled up next to him and started yelling at him out of the car window. David thought he wanted to race, so he gave him a thumb’s up and gunned the engine. The two raced down the road with Mr. Murray in the oncoming traffic lane.
“You crazy kid,” Mr. Murray yelled. “You are going to kill yourself on that thing!”
David didn’t hear a word. He was whooping and hollering, “Let’s go, Mr. Murray! You are going down!”
Mr. Murray gunned the engine. No way was one of his employees going to beat him. David laughed and pulled on the throttle as the old bike groaned and sputtered.
Neither of them saw the train approaching the tracks in the distance. As they got closer to the tracks, David noticed the flashing red lights and the sound of the train’s whistle. He tried to brake, but the motorcycle was too old and the brakes were worn down to nothing. Panic set in as he realized that they were not going to make it across the tracks in time.
“Mr. Murray, we have to jump!” David yelled over the sound of the engine and the train.
Mr. Murray’s eyes widened in terror as he tried to slow down his car. David made a split-second decision and launched himself off the motorcycle, rolling on the ground as he hit the pavement. He could feel the heat of the train on his back as it flew past him, barely missing him.
Mr. Murray’s car broke through the gate and flew in front of the train. The train engine caught the back of his car in mid air, spinning it around a dozen times as it tumbled to a stop in the loose dirt of the McClellan farm on the far side of the track.
The last cars of the train whooshed by and David ran to the twisted metal of Mr. Murray’s car. He was alive.
He dragged Mr. Murray out and put him on the back of the motorcycle and drove to work. An ambulance took Mr. Murray to the city hospital. David punched in the time clock with 60 seconds to spare.
