Revolutionary

Mystic Falls was a sweltering 89 degrees in the middle of June, not quite as humid as the thick atmosphere in New Orleans, but it wasn’t the reprieve from the heat that Jackson had been hoping for.  He’d made it to the picturesque town coasting in on fumes as he pulled into the service station to fill the fuel tank of his black Ford F250 MegaRaptor pickup.  It didn’t just look cool, it was functionally necessary to navigate the terrain of the bayou and wetlands he called home. 

To the left of the fuel pumps, closer to the curb, a young woman beneath the hood of her car caught Jackson’s attention.  The expression on her lovely caramel features appeared to be distressed.  He maneuvered his pickup to pull in front of her, the grill facing the grill of her vehicle before stepping out.  “Ma’am.  I can’t help but notice you seem to be having a bit of trouble.  Mind if I take a look?” Her expression changed to one of I don’t talk to strangers, and with good reason too.  While Virginia was below the Mason-Dixon line, it wasn’t the Deep South.  His plaid flannel shirt, hiking boots, backwards baseball cap, mannerisms and southern drawl probably threw her off letting her know he ain’t from around here. “I’m Jackson Kenner. I’m in town to be a guest speaker at this special school for… gifted… children.  Nice to meet you.  See, now we ain’t strangers.” He offered her a warm smile.

Taking a quick peek under the hood, it was apparent that the vehicle’s battery terminals were corroded and it was having trouble getting a start.  Jackson could jump start it, but the corrosion would have to be cleaned first to get a good contact.  “I see the issue here… I’ll be right back.”  In the back of his truck there was tool box containing an array of MacGyverish gadgets.  Obtaining the WD-40, he headed back to the stranded vehicle.  Not only would the compound clean the corrosion, it’d also loosen the bolts, making it easier to remove the battery if she needed a new one.  Aiming the can at the terminal, it shot a spray of sheer disappointment.  “Damnit… who used all the WD-40?”  F***ing Oliver, that’s who.  He was known to use all of something without replacing it.  “I am so sorry.  I’ll tell you what, to save you from having to call a truck, I have tow chains.  We’ll hook it up and I’ll tow you to wherever you need to go.”