Dead Weight (2011)
“The five of us stood near the back of Sisson’s tractor—Torrez, Sgt. Howard Bishop, Tom Pasquale, Linda Real, and myself. The hubbub of the night before was long gone.
Two cameras hung around Linda’s neck, and a heavy camera bag with a plethora of gadgets rested on the gravel at her feet. Her right hand was poised on one of the cameras, index finger on the button as if she were covering an action sport.
“Jim is working right here, at the left rear hub. He wraps the chain from the backhoe’s bucket around the wheel, so that when he takes off the lug nuts the wheel is supported. The front loader is jacked up, with all kinds of shit under the back axle for safety.” Torrez looked at me and shook his head. “So far, so good. He’s got the wheel and tire off, suspended from the chain. He wants to swing it around to the left, so that it’s on the shop’s concrete apron, and then lay it down flat.” He reached out and grabbed the chain that hung from the backhoe’s bucket.
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