Creature of the Night Read Online Free PDF

air and turning freely it was
next to impossible to loosen the wheel nuts.
    But I didn't rage and swear like I usually did when
things went wrong. Instead I just got interested. People
changed wheels all the time. I'd even heard of women
doing it. So I looked at the wheel and thought about it
and eventually I found a solution. It wasn't the right one,
but it worked. I brought a breeze block from out by the
sheds and chocked the wheel with it. Once it was
stopped from turning I was able to get the nuts moving
and they came off easily. One, two, three, four, five. I
weighted them like treasure in my hand. I loved the feel
of them, heavier than they looked. And the way they
were shaped, tapering to nose their way through the hub
and screw up snug and tight. I sat on the ground and
looked at them for a while, and then I realized that anyone
coming along the road could see the Skoda up on its
jack, so I dragged over a couple of potted bushes to hide
the wheel from the road.
    I pulled off the flat and put the nuts inside the rim
so I wouldn't lose them. I looked at the greasy plate
underneath it with the bolts sticking out, and then I
looked further in, at the rods and cables feeding in from
the innards of the car. It was amazing.
    I remembered the first time I drove a car. We'd
nicked one in Drumcondra, a flash new Audi, and
Beetle was driving. He was heading for the ring road to
give it a proper burn, but Fluke told him to stop and
let me have a go.
    'Birthday present,' he said.
    I was twelve years old and thrilled that my cousin
had remembered.
    Beetle moved over and I got behind the wheel. I was
all for roaring off with squealing tyres like Mick always
did, but I kept stalling it and the other three were falling
around the place laughing. In the end I just chugged
quietly through the back streets until a taxi driver passed
us and looked at us a bit too long and hard, and then
Fluke took over and we flew out of the place, burning
rubber.
    But after that I got loads of driving, and I got good
at it. As good as any of the others. One time we got
reported and the garda helicopter tracked us down. It
was brilliant. It chased us along the main road, then I
nipped down a side street and turned off the headlights
and weaved through the rat runs until we shook it
off, and then we ditched the car and ran.
    Even Fluke was impressed by that. He said I'd
passed my test at last. But in all those mad night-time
drives I never once stopped to think about the nuts and
bolts. A car was like an Xbox inside out. You pressed
pedals and buttons and turned the wheel and that was it.
It went.
    I lay down under the Skoda but there wasn't much
to see. More dirty wires and bars going into the front
wheels. The mud-spattered floor. I got out and slid the
spare wheel on to its bolts, put the nuts back, tightened
them up, pushed on the hub cap. Everything fitted like it
was supposed to. The jack let the car down gently.
    It was ready to go. I stood back and admired it. I
had four tyres with air in them, and I done it all myself.

12
    The religion didn't cheer my ma up at all, not from what
I could see, anyway. She was still mad at me and she
wouldn't talk to me at all when she first came in. Except
to say: 'Everybody else for miles around was there. I
don't see why you think you're so special.'
    She'd brought two big bags of shopping from the
village and she banged around the kitchen putting things
away, slamming the doors of the presses and swearing at
the walls. Then she went into the sitting room and cried.
I knew why she was crying. She wanted me to go in and
say sorry. I used to do that when I was younger. I can't
stand it when she cries, and I used to go in to make it
better. Whatever it was I done I used to promise never to
do it again, and then usually she would cheer up and say
I was a great boy and all that crap. But I was wise to that
now. At least if she was crying she was out of my face. I
don't know why she still bothered. It was a long