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motor sputtered, stuttered and stalled at the starting line.

Zenith once again regarded at his lifeline.

At 45 he was the proud owner of Zenith's Zeibart Muffler Mart; a successful entrepreneur, capable mechanic and active member of the Lion's Club of Licum, Indiana. On the surface his life read better than an Oprah Winfrey selection, a regular Horatio Alger American Dream come true.

But, pondering the points, our Hoosier hero concluded it simply wasn't enough. All in all none of it meant diddley squat. Zenith had rung the bell at the county fair and walked away without his Kewpie Doll.

He picked up a ball of foam from inside the torn chair-back and rolled it slowly between his thumb and forefinger like a booger of rubber cement. As he considered his work, the ball became tighter and harder. At last he made his decision: Zenith would take a wife.

Wiping his sticky fingers against the crusty legs of his Big Yank overalls, Zenith made a vow, "By God," he decreed, "I'll get me one if it's the last thing that this ol' boy does! I'm gonna get me a wife."

So be it.

IV. Zenith in Heat

It would prove to be a paramount task, but Zenith was prepared for the challenge. Finding a mate would not be easy, but Zenith was psyched. In typical fashion, he scotch-taped his resolution to the refrigerator door, next to the Red Barn Pizza take-out magnet. It read in bold Dale Carnegie style: "Must Couple."

A simple reminder so that each day as he fed his face he would not forget his other haunting hunger. Every day in every way, it gets a little bit better.

Zenith reflected on his image in the chrome toaster. Straightening his name tag and wiping a bit of butter from his lip, he planned his strategy.

Just like daddy used to tell him every morning before he boarded the Trailways bus that took him from his home in the trailer park in Licum to his job on the line at the RV plant in Crown Point, "Son, you've got to plan your work and work your plan."

V. The Women on Zenith's Horizon

What to do was never as hard as where to begin.

Now a woman is nearly as complicated as an automatic transmission, with even more restrictions than California's got laws on polluting emissions so Zenith has his work to do. Verily.

He was a machine man, as I've already mentioned, no naturally the gal for him would be equally attracted to precision, high performance and most-importantly, speed. Where to look. Online? Nah, not his style. In the personal ads in back of the Licum Tattler? What would he write?

No, like Wanda the good witch taught him as a child, "There is no place like home."

Zenith thought about the girls at the office. Pam at reception, with the bad perm and the heavy hips?. Val, at the counter, snapping gum and trading dating stories with the boys in the warehouse? Lauren, the divorcee CPA? This reminded his of his favorite country & western singer, Slim Pickens.

Decisions. decisions.

Learn more about this author, David Rheins.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

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