Wiring Diagrams.

I always feel like I'm being watched now. I'm not, but I'm working out in the open. Landlord built a new fence and I can't fit her through the opening in the gate. Had to cut a three foot stretch of the old rusted iron fence to get her in the last one. I'm on the sidewalk. Working on the wiring. Headlight dangling. Illuminating the ground. Slide the switch to see what happens. Left blinkers work fine. Right are a mishmash. Cut some wire, strip the ends and run it from the dead light bulbs ground to the negative terminal of the battery. Nothing. Stand back for a second. Scratch my head a little. Trace the wires on the diagram. Swap out the flasher unit. Three young men walk by. He sees a lighter in my tool bag. "Can I use your lighter?" Young man says. He can't be a day over fifteen. "You can't be a day older than fifteen, what do you need a lighter for?" One of the other young men reply "We look young for our age."
"You don't dress like adults." Bright colored t-shirts, saggy draws, fancy high tops that their parents must have bought them.
"Yeah, it's yo draws boy."
"Yo-don dress's like it."
The other boys are teasing the first now. Tell him fine. Use the lighter. I know they're lying to me but if the boy managed to steal some cigarettes that's none of my business, and I remember being that age. The young man shakes my hand, says "thanks for the lighter" puts it in his pocket and turns to walk away. I hold on to his hand and won't let go. Tiny hand disappears into mine. Mechanics hands. Physical memory of a thousand stubborn bolts.
"You can use it but you can't have it."
"Oh come on."
"It's about respect son."
"It's just a lighter."
"It's about respect son."
The other boys are motionless, scared. Tell him to give it back.
"OK… but you've got to let go of my hand first."
"You've got another hand son." He's holding a plastic bag slung over his shoulder.
"Ughh."
"Just give it to him."
"It's about respect."
He finally gives up puts down the bag and reaches down into his saggy draws, loosely dangling belt almost down to his knees to reach into his pocket and fish out the orange lighter. I let my mechanics grip go. "Sorry about that." One of the other boys says. He mutters something and the three of them run off.

Back to my work. Studying the wiring diagram. Take the digital volt meter and run it from the battery to the front lights, rear, flasher unit. Trying to determine where the break in the line might be. Think about the boys as I work. Feel bad about having embarrassed the one boy. Pride wounded more than anything else. But at that age a young man has very little other than his pride. Switch some wires in the headlight. Thinking about myself at that age. Reminded of a time when I must have been eleven, twelve and I met some older girls. I always looked old for my age. Young flirting. Telling me that they thought that I was handsome. Talking about sex. Blow jobs. Invited me over to watch a movie. I was too young, too inexperienced. Puberty was new to me. Manhood only weeks old at that point. When we got to their house I told them that I had to go. Left. Those experiences seemed like such a big deal. Feeling embarrassed that I didn't want to go inside. Confused. Still remember it to this day. Know now that nothing would have come of it either way. They weren't much older than I was. Young women talking about things they read in their older sisters Cosmo. Get the right side blinkers to work. Turn my attention to the brake light. See them walking back down the block. When they get to me they walk out into the street. Avoiding me there on the sidewalk. Grab the orange lighter out of my bag and yell at the kids. "Hey you want a lighter?"
"Yeah."
He runs over and I toss it to him. Fumbles, drops it and it falls under a car. Bends down and grabs it.
"Sorry about that." I say.
"Thanks for the lighter."
Runs off.