The Flog – The Fabry Log

I write in anonymity. It’s a perk of the desert. Very few people in Tucson know about my radio work or my literary pursuits. That’s okay. It helps me blend in at the Farmer’s Market and Target.

But something happened yesterday that makes me think things are changing.

No, I did not get invited to the Tucson Festival of Books. It’s even better.

Two weeks ago I bought four new tires at a Firestone location 40 minutes away. This is another reason I live in anonymity, I live 40 minutes from civilization.

Yesterday I discovered a bubble on the right front tire. It looked like a mouse had moved in next to the rim and something inside said, not good. I Googled it and sure enough the experts said it needed to be replaced.

I called Firestone and took it in Saturday afternoon, bringing along a manuscript and a couple of notebooks to work on a writing project. Bill and Joey were at the desk and Joey followed me outside to inspect my mouse.

I estimate Joey to be early 30s. He talks fast. Very sharp. He knows a lot about tires, but he also seems aware of people and their needs. Inquisitive. While I was there a woman from the gas station nearby was having trouble with a pump and Joey went outside to help her. He reset a young man’s car radio after a new battery was installed. I’ve heard him on the phone explaining in painful detail about car problems and what could happen if those problems aren’t fixed. Usually he’s talking to me.

“Funny thing happened the other day,” Joey said as we walked to my car. “A guy came in from Indiana to get some work done and he sat down in the waiting area to read a book. And I looked on the back of it and there was a picture of you.”

I smiled and wondered if he was inquisitive enough to remember the title.

“It was called Not In The Heart. I told him, ‘That’s one of my customers!’”

I nodded and smiled. And then he inspected the mouse and ran his hand over it. “Yeah, you need a new tire. We’ll get that done right away.”

I handed him the keys and asked how much an oil change would be. And I’d bought the lifetime alignment, so I had him do all three. Then I headed for a restaurant where I could spread out my material and wrap my head around my manuscript. (The lady in Arby’s had not heard of me.)

When I returned, Bill said, “Joey brought this book over to me and pointed at the picture and said, ‘That’s him. That’s the guy who comes in here.’”

I smiled and nodded.

“So how many books have you written?” Joey said.

I told him and his jaw dropped. Then I gave him the line about how many kids I have and how most writers can’t make enough to feed their families from their writing so they have to do something else as their main job, blah, blah, blah. Writing is like digging a trench or fixing tires, really. It’s just what I do. It’s why I show us during sales.

I told Bill and Joey I would bring them a copy of Not In The Heart. Maybe they’ll start the first Firestone Book Club.