Mobile Manors sat on a bluff above the Sacramento River. Manuel Jones was 6’6” with a barrel chest, but nimble as a cat. He sipped coffee on his trailer porch, watching the brightening dawn materialize his cherry 1965 Mustang.
A wrecker parked behind the Mustang. The driver jumped out, hooked the Mustang, pulled a lever and it rose five feet. Manuel leaped down from the porch and started strangling the repo man.
“You the owner?” he gasped.
Manuel said yeah.
The repo man said he was a freelance, and he needed a bodyguard. He told his boss Manuel was never home.