The name's spokes. Jonathan Spokes.

Sam pulled up to an old, crumbly-looking building. The number read 1942, the same as the umber he had scribbled on a piece of paper before leaving.
Here we go…. He thought, stepping out of his car.
He walked up to the door, and knocked. Once, twice, thrice. An old man appeared at the door almost immediately.
“Hi, I’m Sam…” Sam started.
“Oh, the young man who bought my time machine. Come in, come in.” The old man said. “I’m Jonathan Spokes. Remember that name.” The man said. He ushered Sam into a small, cramped living room. The furniture was old and dusty. On a small couch was a large cardboard box. Mr. Spokes picked it up and handed it to Sam.
“And remember, the name is Spokes. Jonathan Spokes. Remember that.” He whispered, then ushered Sam out of the building.
Weird… Sam thought. Well, future Sam, you better have something good planned.

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