Just the engine.
Just the morning air.
And the knowledge that his property was still his.
Months later, the state attorney called again.
"We reached an agreement."
Frank asked what kind.
"The HOA cooperated fully."
"And Patricia?"
"Her legal problems are ongoing."
Frank didn't ask for details.
He didn't need them.
The attorney continued.
"The developer withdrew."
"Good."
"And there won't be a corridor."
Frank smiled.
"Good."
There was a pause.
Then the attorney said something Frank hadn't expected.
"Mr. Dalton, you should know something."
"What?"
"When we started looking into the association, we expected to find one bad board member."
Frank waited.
"We found a system."
He looked toward the garage.
"And now?"
"Now there's a record."
Frank nodded.
"That's better."
A year after the confrontation, Briarwood Estates held its annual neighborhood barbecue.
Frank almost didn't go.
Danielle made him.
"You've been avoiding people."
"I like avoiding people."
"I know."
She smiled.
"Come on."
Frank arrived late.
His Harley was parked beside the clubhouse.
People noticed it.
Not because it violated anything.
Because it had become something of a symbol.
The new HOA president, Rebecca Hall, approached him.
She was in her early sixties.
Gray hair.
Simple blue shirt.
No sunglasses.
No blazer.
No stack of papers.
She smiled.
"Frank."
"Rebecca."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Would you mind telling the new homeowners about the motorcycle?"
Frank laughed.
"Why?"
"They keep asking."
He looked toward a young couple standing near the grill.
They waved.
Frank sighed.
"Fine."
He walked over.
The young husband smiled.
"We've heard stories."
"Stories are dangerous."
The wife laughed.
"Was it really that bad?"
Frank looked at the Harley.
"Depends on what you mean by bad."
"Did the HOA really try to take it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Frank looked toward the clubhouse.
"Because they wanted something else."
"What?"
"Access."
"To your property?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Frank looked at them.
"Money."
The couple went quiet.
Frank nodded toward the motorcycle.
"This thing was just the excuse."
The young husband studied the bike.
"Did you ever think about selling it?"
Frank smiled.
"Not once."
"Even when they threatened you?"
"Especially then."
The wife smiled.