The Shovelhead
Haley didn't touch the motorcycle immediately.
That surprised Cole.
Most mechanics wanted to start pulling things apart.
She didn't.
She walked around it.
Slowly.
She crouched near the rear wheel.
Looked at the frame.
Checked the cables.
Examined the wiring.
Then she stood and looked at the engine.
“Who rebuilt the ignition?”
“Marcus.”
“Who touched the carburetor?”
“Three people.”
“Who changed the plugs?”
“I did.”
She nodded.
“Original coil?”
“Yes.”
“Original wiring harness?”
“No.”
She looked at Cole.
“Who changed it?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
Haley nodded again.
Danny leaned against a workbench.
“You always ask this many questions?”
“When people bring me broken things, yes.”
“It's a motorcycle, not a patient.”
Haley glanced at him.
“Machines don't lie.”
Danny smiled.
“People do?”
“Constantly.”
The room became quiet.
Cole watched her remove a small screwdriver from the toolbox.
She checked the battery.
Then the ignition.
Then the plugs.
She didn't hurry.
After ten minutes, she asked Cole to turn the key.
He did.
She listened.
“Again.”
He did.
She touched the ignition switch.
“Again.”
The engine turned.
Haley closed her eyes.
For three seconds, she listened to the sound.
Then she opened them.
“You've been fixing the wrong problem.”
Danny laughed.
“There it is.”
Cole looked at him.
Danny stopped laughing.
Haley pointed toward the engine.
“The motorcycle isn't failing because the carburetor is bad.”
Cole frowned.
“Then what?”
“Timing.”
Marcus had supposedly checked the timing.
Haley shook her head.
“Not the adjustment.”
She crouched.
“Something is throwing the timing off when the engine warms up.”
Cole's expression changed.
“How do you know?”
“I heard it.”
Danny stared at her.
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
He looked at Cole.
Cole didn't answer.
Haley removed the cover.
A few minutes later, she found what she was looking for.
A tiny mark.
Almost invisible.
She pointed.
“See that?”
Cole bent down.
“What am I looking at?”
“The advance mechanism.”
Danny crouched beside him.
Haley tapped it with her screwdriver.
“It isn't returning properly.”
Cole's eyes narrowed.
“That little thing?”
“That little thing.”
Danny shook his head.
“No way.”
Haley looked at him.
“Start it.”
Cole hesitated.
Then he turned the key.
The engine coughed.
Once.
Twice.
Then died.
Haley smiled faintly.
“Exactly.”
Cole looked at the motorcycle.
Then at her.
“How much?”
“I haven't fixed it yet.”
“You found the problem.”
“Finding isn't fixing.”
That answer impressed him more than he expected.
But then Haley opened her toolbox.
And Cole saw something.
A photograph.
It was tucked inside the lid.
An old photograph of a young woman standing beside a motorcycle.
Cole didn't recognize the woman.
But he recognized the motorcycle.
His father's.
Haley noticed his eyes.
She closed the toolbox.
Too quickly.
Cole said nothing.
Not yet.
The Bruise
The next morning, Haley returned.
She arrived at 8:15.
The garage wasn't officially open.
Cole was already there.
So was Danny.
Haley carried coffee.
One cup.
She handed it to Danny.
He stared at it.
“What is this?”
“Coffee.”
“For me?”
“You looked tired yesterday.”
Danny looked almost offended.
“I don't look tired.”
“You do.”
Cole hid a smile.
Haley went straight to the Shovelhead.
For two hours, she worked.
No dramatic speeches.
No unnecessary movement.
She replaced one component in the advance mechanism.
Then another.
She adjusted the timing.
Checked the plugs.
Changed one wire.
Finally, she stepped back.
“Try it.”
Cole turned the key.
The engine fired.
Once.
Then twice.
Then suddenly the old Shovelhead came alive.
The sound filled the garage.
Deep.
Rough.
Alive.
Danny's mouth dropped open.
Cole stared at the engine.
He hadn't heard it run like that in years.
Haley smiled.
“She's not broken.”
Cole looked at her.
“What?”
“She was never broken.”
She shut off the engine.
“She was being misunderstood.”
Cole laughed quietly.
“That's one way to put it.”
Danny walked around the motorcycle.
“You actually fixed it.”
Haley wiped her hands.
“I told you.”
Danny looked at the bruise on her cheek.
The smile disappeared.
“Who did that?”
Haley stopped.
Cole didn't look at Danny.
But he was listening.
Haley packed her tools.
“It's nothing.”
Danny's jaw tightened.
“That's not nothing.”
Haley looked at him.
“You don't know me.”
“No.”
“But you're asking questions.”