Jim turned away.
He wiped his eyes.
For the first time since Dutch's death, he felt something other than grief.
He felt that the two men had somehow left a message behind.
Arty had left the parts.
Dutch had left the motorcycle.
And Leo had carried the memory.
Now all they needed to do was put everything together.
The mechanics worked through Wednesday and Thursday.
They installed the replacement rods.
Corrected the timing.
Repaired the wiring.
Tested the electrical system.
Leo remained safely behind the office area, where Maria kept him away from the machinery.
The bikers brought food for him.
The intimidating men who had entered the shop like a thunderstorm became gentle whenever they sat with the little boy.
On Thursday evening, the motorcycle stood completely assembled beneath the shop lights.
Rusty reached toward the starter.
Jim stopped him.
"No."
Everyone turned.
"Dutch's family should hear it first."
And so they waited.
Friday Morning
Friday arrived beneath a gray Oakland sky.
At 11:45 a.m., motorcycles began filling the parking lot.
One after another.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Then nearly twenty.
Dutch's daughter Rebecca arrived with her ten-year-old son, Mason.
When Rebecca saw her father's motorcycle standing in the center of the shop, she stopped.
She walked toward it slowly.
Her fingers touched the cracked leather seat.
"He always refused to replace this."
Jim smiled faintly.
"Said every crack had a story."
Mason walked around the motorcycle.
"Does it run?"
Jim looked at him.
"We're about to find out."
Maria stood near the office holding Leo.
The boy was nervous because the shop had suddenly become crowded.
Jim approached them.
"You ready to help me remember the trick?"
Leo peeked over his mother's shoulder.
"The little switch."
"That's right."
Jim mounted the motorcycle.
The room went silent.
Rusty stood beside the workbench.
Rebecca held Mason's shoulder.
Jim inserted the key.
The headlight came on.
He pressed the starter.
The engine turned.
But it didn't catch.
Hope disappeared from Rebecca's face.
Several riders lowered their heads.
Then Leo spoke.
"Mr. Jim."
Jim looked over.
"You forgot to wake her."
Leo raised one small hand.
"Where fingers hide."
Jim smiled.
Of course.
The switch.
He reached beneath the left side of the fuel tank.
His fingers found the tiny toggle.
Click.
The room became completely silent.
Jim placed both hands on the handlebars.
"Come on, Dutch."
Then he pressed the starter.
The Old Girl Sings
The engine exploded to life.
A deep roar filled Apex Iron Works.
Metal drawers rattled.
Tools vibrated.
Dust fell from the rafters.
The entire building seemed to tremble.