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"Jesus H. Christ! It could have blown up the station!" Marcus gasped as he staggered back pointing behind him to the near disaster down the road with one hand and rubbing his lips wildly with the other, "Coulda blown the whole block!" Brother Chuck's fears were now spoken as his own. Phil, the head mechanic, stepped forward righting the tossed driver seat, laughing, and said "Nah. There are three inches between the bumper and that pump. See the cement skirt at the bottom? It's long enough to stop the wheels before the bumper hits anything." Marcus's head reeled. They were all - all - laughing wildly. "This has happened before?" "Oh, lots of times. Go get your truck, young man." Phil advised. Gasping at air and at reality, "I can't. Send the frigging back-up team." Marcus took the offensive. "Just testing." Phil grinned. Two of the men were rolling on the ground holding their sides in hysteria. "What the hell happened, here? That damned seat fell out of the truck! With me on it!" "Wing nuts. We pull the seats to clean. You got the rum banana, but we forgot the wing nuts to the rail mountings, under your seat. It happens." As Marcus awaited the return of his truck and the, now personally supervised, reinsertion and fastening of his driver's seat to the rail mountings, the question occurred to him, "Why the hell am I learning about rail mountings? Is this what I'm about?" As the ever higher rising sun hurled a glorious beam of summer's morning light through the high chicken wired shop window blinding him completely to the room, the