Merriton

“Let’s see this Commodore 64.” Randy showed up at Elvis’ farmhouse with a red toolbox. Instead of wrenches and a hammer, it contained tiny screwdrivers and a soldering gun. It had been sitting in the pile of his belongings in the foyer next to a leaking box labeled, “bathroom crap.” Elvis held open the door and led the way to the kitchen.

“Vesta, this is Randy McCain, our new neighbor. Randy, this is my wife, Vesta.” She had been seated at the kitchen table overlooking a pile of yarn, but she stood up when Elvis started the introduction. “Nice to meet you, Randy. Hope you stay a little longer than our last neighbor.” Randy was uncomfortable with the formal introductions and his eye was drawn to the computer lying in pieces next to the multicolored tufts of yarn. Elvis explained, “I had the James kid look at it.” One rough and dirt encrusted hand lifted the keyboard away from the base. “He said I needed a new power supply.”

Randy sat in front of the exposed motherboard. He followed the scorch marks from the power surge, but they went no further than a capacitor near the power supply. “He might be right. The only way I could tell is if we replace it. You said the guys at Radio Shack didn’t have one?” Elvis’ face crunched in anger, “No! I said they wouldn’t even help me. Laughed me right outta store.” Randy pulled out his cell phone. “I don’t remember a Radio Shack in Merriton.” Elvis shook his head. “We don’t got one. If we did, I wouldna had this problem. It’s those boys in Emigration. They think they’re better than alla us.”

Randy got the phone number for the Radio Shak in Emigration. “I need a power supply for an old computer. The numbers on it say, ‘C 950157-04.” It was quiet on the phone for awhile. Vesta held an awkwardly wound skein of rough yarn in her hands. She hadn’t been working with it. She just held it in her lap and watched the two of them. Elvis watched Randy intently. “Yeah, it’s for a Commodore 64. I love these classic machines. I’m sure you have the 470 microfarad capacitor I need, but the power supply is a little obscure. I’m trying to get this one working again… that’s too bad… Well, thanks for looking.”

Randy looked up at Elvis. “Well, they don’t have it. Is there a Fry’s up north?” Elvis shook his head, “Fry’s? Don’t know what you mean…” Randy was fiddling with his phone. “God, there’s nothing around here. How do you guys do anything without a Fry’s?” Elvis just shrugged and put his hands into his pockets. Randy played with his phone for a few more minutes while the room was quiet. “Sorry, it’s so slow when I do this on my phone… okay… what about this…” He held the phone to his ear, “Hi, I’m refurbishing an old Commodore 64 and I need a new power supply… C 950157-04… Okay…” Randy looked at Elvis. “They’re looking.”

Randy nodded at Vesta, “What are you doing with all this yarn?” She looked at the skein in her hand as if she had forgotten it was there. “Oh, I’m trying to see which dyeing technique worked better. Would you believe that all of these were done with the same color of dye?” Randy crinkled his brow, “Even the blue ones?” Vesta laughed, “Oh no! The blues are different…”

Randy’s attention was drawn to the phone. “Okay… I guess that will work. How late are you open today?” He looked at his watch and then looked at Elvis. “Is it possible for us to get into the city by five or is that too far?” Elvis looked at the clock on the wall. “Yeah, I think we can get there.” Randy spoke into the phone, “Okay, will you keep that out for us. We’re leaving right now.”

Randy stood up and headed toward the door and then stopped suddenly. Elvis was right at his side. “What’s the matter, boy?” Randy shook his head. “I forgot. I don’t have a car. Kevin and Sierra are returning the U-Haul.” Elvis replied, “I told ya I’d git ya to the city. You think I’m not gonna go with ya?” Randy smiled, “Okay, we’re going to a store called Standard Supply. They don’t have the exact power supply that your computer uses, but they have one that should work.”

The two of them climbed into Elvis’ pickup and headed north to the city.