Mort bought an old school bus for about $1600 at a junk lot. It was gutted and the engine was gone, but none of this meant anything to Mort who had spent a life time fixing cars of every imaginable shape and size.
Mort had lost his wife the year before, just six months after he retired. Then he sold everything they had including the house, mainly because the memories were too painful. His brother Bart let him live in his garage while Mort rebuilt the old bus.
“Whada ya gonna do?” Bart would ask pretty much everyday. Mort would just shrug and get back to work.
He started by putting in a small bathroom and kitchen. The plumbing was tricky because he had never done it before, but looking at few diagrams was all he needed to figure it out. He ran electrical lines for the stove and various light fixtures. Then it was time to put in the engine. This was the quickest part of the process of course. Last came the dining room and the bedroom.
The whole thing had taken no more than six months. Mort said good bye to the place where he was born, the place he had grown up in, the place he had lived for his entire life. He had no real plans other than to drive away.
“Whada ya gonna do?” Bart asked for the umpteenth time. Mort didn’t answer. He stepped aboard the bus and turned the key making the engine roar.
The road for several hundred miles was empty. Mort drove in silence because the radio was receiving no signal. The rumble of the engine was soothing, and staring at the long stretch of road brought him a feeling of peace he had not felt since his wife’s death. It was not long before boredom set in, and then the thoughts. And suddenly Mort was crying like he never had before.