“Tank support inspection.”
The date was twenty-three days earlier.
The work order listed:
REAR TANK STRAP: SURFACE CORROSION OBSERVED. CLEANED. RECHECK NEXT SERVICE.
The driver stared.
“Surface corrosion?”
The firefighter walked over.
“Can I see?”
The supervisor handed him the document.
He read it.
Then looked beneath the bus again.
After a minute he emerged.
“That strap didn’t fail from surface rust alone.”
The first supervisor became uncomfortable.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’d want a mechanic to examine it.”
The biker spoke quietly.
“Mounting point too.”
Everyone looked at him.
The firefighter nodded.
“Exactly.”
The first supervisor frowned.
“Who are you?”
The biker pointed toward the road.
“Guy who happened to be behind your bus.”
The supervisor clearly disliked the answer.
But there was nothing he could do with it.
The replacement bus arrived.
The children were loaded carefully.
Eli refused at first.
The teacher crouched beside him.
“This bus was checked.”
He shook his head.
The teacher looked at the driver.
The driver understood.
She walked over.
“Want to inspect it with me?”
Eli looked surprised.
“What?”
“You noticed something the rest of us missed.”
She pointed toward the replacement bus.
“So come with me.”
The supervisor opened his mouth.
The driver ignored him.
She and Eli walked around the new bus.
She showed him the tires.
The lights.
The emergency exits.
Then she crouched and pointed underneath.
“Fuel tank.”
Eli stayed several feet away.
“Two straps?”
“Yes.”
“Both there?”
“Yes.”
“Any sparks?”
“No.”
He almost smiled.
“Okay.”
The driver stood.
“You ready?”
He nodded.
Before boarding, Eli looked toward the biker.
The man was standing beside his motorcycle.
Eli walked over.
The teacher followed.
“You stopped us.”
The biker nodded.
“You told me to.”
Eli frowned.
“I didn’t talk.”
“You didn’t need to.”
The boy looked at the motorcycle.
“Were you scared?”
The biker thought.
“Yeah.”
Eli seemed surprised.
“You?”
The biker smiled.
“Fear doesn’t care how big you are.”
The boy looked toward the broken bus.
“I was really scared.”
“Good.”
Eli frowned.
“Good?”
“Means your brain noticed something mattered.”
The biker crouched.
“Brave isn’t not being scared.”
“It’s doing the next useful thing while you are.”
Eli considered that.
Then nodded.
The teacher smiled.
“Come on.”
Eli turned to leave.
Then stopped.