Even fer' all his faults, Lyle's a right good mate. Mate as in friend, b'fore y'all go thinkin' the wrong thing. Since kindergarten, me, him and Robbie 'ave been the best of pals, and there ain't much what can get us to hate each other.

But, even though we all try an' get 'im to open up, Lyle's a quiet one, and lately he's got himself more withdrawn. His dad is the foreman at the coal mine, so he ain't gotta work much, but he don't like to play as much as he used to. But, if'n there's one thing he right loves, it's his motorcycle. Classic thing it is, think he says it's a '48 or '49 Morley. Loud as all get-out, and he runs 'er hard! Scares me out of my wits t'ride with him--even in his sidecar--but, not able to drive myself, I've depended on him t'get around for years.

We all wish he'd wise up and quit smokin', though. Nasty habit that.