There was no embarrassment.
No anger.
Just something quiet behind his eyes.
"What happened to him?"
Owen looked down at his hands.
"He died."
Garrett's smile disappeared.
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
Garrett studied him.
There was something strange about this kid.
Not confidence.
Not exactly.
Something calmer.
Vince stepped forward.
"Kid, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we've already spent half the afternoon diagnosing this thing."
Owen looked at the motorcycle.
"Can I hear it?"
Vince laughed.
"We've heard it enough."
"No."
Owen shook his head.
"I mean can I listen to it without anyone touching it?"
Garrett folded his arms.
"Why?"
"Because I think we're looking at the wrong problem."
The bikers exchanged glances.
Garrett's eyes narrowed.
"What makes you think that?"
"Because if the computer can't see it, and the fuel pressure is right, and the spark is right, then the problem might not be electronic."
Owen pointed toward the bike.
"It might be mechanical."
Vince shook his head.
"We checked the mechanical systems."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"All of them?"
Vince opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
Owen looked at Garrett.
"I'm not saying I'm better than them."
He paused.
"I'm saying I'd like to listen before I touch anything."
Garrett looked at the five thousand dollars lying on the workbench.
Then at Owen.
"Suppose I let you."
"What?"
"Suppose I let you work on it."
Owen waited.
Garrett smiled.
"What's your bet?"
Owen looked genuinely confused.
"I don't have five thousand dollars."
More laughter.
Garrett raised one hand.
"Not money."
He pointed toward the motorcycle.
"Your reputation."
Owen looked at the bike for several seconds.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
Garrett grinned.
"Fine."
He stepped aside.
"Fix it."
Owen walked toward the motorcycle.
Every eye in the garage followed him.
None of them understood yet that the boy they had barely noticed was about to change the entire evening.
And perhaps much more than that.
The Impossible Engine
Owen did not touch the motorcycle immediately.
That surprised everyone.
He stood several feet away from it.
He listened.
Garrett watched him.
"So?"
Owen held up a finger.
"Start it."
Vince glanced at Garrett.
Garrett nodded.
The mechanic turned the key.
The engine fired.
The deep rumble filled the garage.
For three seconds, everything sounded normal.
Then—
Cough.
The engine dropped.
Cough.
The RPM fell.
Then the motorcycle died.
Owen closed his eyes.
"Again."
Vince started it again.
This time Owen moved closer.
He listened to the engine.
Then he crouched.
"Again."
The engine started.
Owen placed two fingers lightly against the frame.
The engine died.
He frowned.
"Again."
Garrett watched carefully.
The third time, Owen stood beside the exhaust.
When the engine stalled, he immediately looked at the tailpipe.
"Again."
Vince sighed.
"Kid—"
"Please."
Something in Owen's voice made Vince stop arguing.
He started the motorcycle again.
The engine came alive.
Owen watched the exhaust.
The motorcycle ran for four seconds.
Five.
Six.
Then it died.
Owen stood still.
"What?"
Garrett asked.
Owen pointed.
"The exhaust."
Vince frowned.
"What about it?"
"It's not breathing correctly."
One of the bikers laughed.
"Engines don't breathe."
Owen looked at him.
"Actually, they do."
The man stopped laughing.
Owen crouched beside the bike.
"Air comes in. Fuel gets added. The mixture burns. Exhaust leaves."
He looked toward Vince.
"If something changes in that cycle, the engine can start but won't maintain idle."
Vince crossed his arms.
"That still doesn't explain the problem."
"Maybe."
Owen reached toward the throttle.
"Can I?"
Garrett nodded.
Owen started the motorcycle again.
Instead of letting it idle, he gently increased the throttle.
The engine climbed smoothly.
Then he released it.
The RPM dropped.
The motorcycle immediately began struggling.
Owen watched.
"That's interesting."
"What?"
Garrett asked.
"It only fails when the engine returns to idle."
"We know."
"No."
Owen shook his head.
"You know that it fails."
He looked toward the mechanics.
"I know when."
Silence.
He pointed toward the motorcycle.
"That's different."
Garrett's expression changed.
Owen asked Vince for a flashlight.
Vince handed it to him.
Owen inspected the throttle body.
Then the intake.
Then the vacuum lines.
He moved slowly.
Methodically.
Not like a teenager trying to prove something.
Like someone who had already seen the problem in his mind and was searching for confirmation.
Several minutes passed.
One biker whispered:
"What's he doing?"
Garrett answered quietly.
"Watching."
Owen suddenly stopped.
He touched a small rubber hose.
Then he looked at it from another angle.
"Who worked on this last?"
Vince frowned.
"I did."
"Yesterday?"
"Two days ago."
"Did you replace this?"
"No."
Owen gently moved the hose.
It shifted more than it should have.
"That's loose."
Vince stepped closer.
"It can't be."
Owen pointed.
"Look."
Vince leaned over.
He pulled the hose.
It came free.
The entire garage went silent.
Owen held it up.
"There."
Vince stared.
Garrett stepped forward.
"What is it?"
"Vacuum leak."
Vince shook his head.
"That shouldn't cause this."
"It can."
Owen looked at him.
"Especially at idle."
Vince took the hose.
He inspected the end.
Then his expression changed.
There was a tiny crack along the rubber.
Barely visible.
The kind of crack that could disappear when the hose was flexed.
Garrett stared.
"You found that?"
Owen nodded.
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"There's something else."
He returned to the motorcycle.
The bikers leaned forward.
Owen followed the line with his finger.
"Someone replaced this clamp."
Vince looked at it.
"Yeah."
"It's the wrong size."
Vince's eyebrows rose.
"What?"
Owen pointed.
"It's too loose. When the engine vibrates at idle, the connection opens just enough to throw off the mixture."
Vince looked at the hose again.
Then at the clamp.
Then at the motorcycle.
For the first time all afternoon, nobody laughed.
Garrett looked at Owen.
"Can you fix it?"
Owen nodded.
"Probably."
Garrett smiled.