Dennis shifted impatiently.
Finally Eli pointed.
"Is that your ground strap?"
Owen nodded.
"Yes."
Eli tilted his head.
"No."
Owen frowned.
"What?"
Eli pointed behind it.
"I'm asking if that's the one that's supposed to be there."
For the first time that morning, Owen Price stopped looking tired.
He crouched beside the boy.
And the entire garage became very quiet.
Owen removed the ground strap.
The piece appeared normal until he placed it under the inspection lamp.
Then Eli pointed to one end.
"Look at the hole."
The mounting hole was slightly elongated.
Dennis leaned over.
"Wear."
"Maybe."
Eli turned the strap around.
"But look at the braid."
Several strands had darkened.
Not burned exactly.
Heat-stained.
Owen bent the piece.
The braid flexed normally.
Then he twisted it in the direction it would move as the engine vibrated.
A tiny section separated near the terminal.
Almost invisible.
Owen stared at it.
"Internal break."
Cal stepped closer.
"Enough to matter?"
"Absolutely."
Dennis remained skeptical.
"A bad ground could cause the ignition to drop. It doesn't explain the mechanical resistance."
Eli nodded.
"I know."
Dennis blinked.
The teenager wasn't claiming victory.
That seemed to annoy him more.
Eli pointed toward the motorcycle.
"Can you put a temporary cable on it?"
Owen did.
A thick test cable connected the engine directly to the frame.
Cal pressed the starter.
The Shovelhead turned faster.
Everyone heard it.
The engine rotated three full cycles.
Then came the familiar resistance.
It slowed.
Stopped.
Dennis folded his arms.
"Ground strap wasn't the problem."
Eli looked at him.
"It was a problem."
Owen smiled slightly.
Dennis did not.
Cal tried the starter again.
The engine spun noticeably stronger before binding.
Luis crouched beside the cylinders.
"Kid's right."
Dennis stared.
"We still haven't fixed anything."
"We fixed one thing."
Luis pointed at the old strap.
"And we didn't know it was broken."
Eli had already turned his attention elsewhere.
His eyes moved across the engine.
He looked at bolts.
Washers.
Cable routing.
Scratches.
Paint.
He seemed less interested in the motorcycle as an object than in the history written across it.
Cal noticed.
"You said you used to work on motorcycles."
Eli ignored the question.
He pointed to a bracket.
"Has that always been there?"
Mack answered.
"As long as I remember."
"What does it hold?"
"Nothing now."
Mack stepped closer.
"Aaron had something mounted there years ago. Don't remember what."
Eli examined the bracket.
Two small wires emerged from behind it.
Both disappeared beneath the fuel tank.
Owen frowned.
"I traced the main harness."
"Those aren't part of the main harness," Eli said.
Dennis glanced at Cal.
"You hired Sherlock Holmes?"
"I hired someone to sweep."
Eli looked uncomfortable.
"I can stop."
Cal immediately regretted the joke.
"No. Keep going."
The boy nodded.
They removed the seat.
Beneath it was almost half a century of electrical history.
Original wires.
Replacement wires.
Splices.
Tape.
New connectors attached to old connectors.
An unused plug from an accessory long gone.
Owen whistled.
"This thing has been modified by lunatics."
Mack smiled.
"One specific lunatic."
"Aaron?"
"Mostly."
They followed the two thin wires.
One ended at a relay hidden behind the battery tray.
The other ran toward the handlebar area.
Owen pulled the relay free.
"This isn't factory."
Mack stared at it.
"I've never seen that."
Dennis looked toward him.
"You've owned this bike nineteen years."
"I said I've never seen it."
Eli examined the relay but didn't touch the terminals.
"When did it stop running?"
Mack thought.
"It didn't just stop."
He explained.
For months, the motorcycle had become difficult to start after long rides.
Then occasionally it would hesitate while hot.
Eventually it began shutting off at traffic lights.
The last time Mack rode it, the engine died outside Sedona and refused to restart.
After cooling for twenty minutes, it came alive again.
Then it developed the strange resistance.
"Everyone assumed the motor was failing," Mack said.
Luis nodded.
"At its age, not an unreasonable assumption."
Eli looked at the relay.
"What if the starting problem made you change things?"
Dennis frowned.
"We changed things because they were worn."
"Were they broken?"
Somebody could have interpreted the question as disrespect.
Eli didn't say it that way.
He genuinely wanted to know.
Dennis picked up one of the old timing components from the bench.
"This was worn beyond specification."
Eli studied it.
"What did you replace it with?"
Dennis showed him.
"Correct part number."
Eli turned toward Mack.
"Was the engine stock?"
Mack laughed.
Nobody else did.
Eli waited.
Finally Mack said, "Aaron didn't believe in stock."
That changed the atmosphere.
Cal looked at the trays of removed components.
Luis looked at Dennis.
Owen stopped tracing wires.
"What did he change?" Cal asked.
Mack scratched his beard.
"I couldn't list everything."
Dennis stared at him.
"You gave us a modified engine and didn't tell us?"
"I told you Aaron worked on it."
"You said he'd 'tinkered.'"
"That was Aaron working on it."
Dennis closed his eyes.
Cal almost laughed despite himself.
Eli picked up the discarded cam-related component.
He held it beside the replacement.
"What if the old wear isn't just wear?"
Dennis looked ready to object.
Eli pointed.
The shape of one surface was subtly different.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Dennis took both parts.
He stared.
Then walked to the magnifier.
Several minutes passed.
Nobody interrupted.
When he returned, his irritation had vanished.
"This was ground."
Cal leaned closer.
"By accident?"
"No."
Dennis rotated the old part.
"Someone changed the profile deliberately."
Luis swore softly.
Mack smiled.
"Aaron."
Dennis pointed toward him.
"This man was a menace."
"He absolutely was."
For the first time, Eli smiled.
It disappeared quickly.
But Cal saw it.
They began inspecting the discarded components again.
Now with a different question.
Not: What was worn?
But: What had been intentional?
That changed everything.
A spacer they assumed was homemade compensation suddenly had meaning.
A washer with unusual thickness changed alignment.
A mark on a gear that Dennis had dismissed as old damage lined up with a nonfactory reference point.
Aaron had built the motor around his own collection of modifications.
Over decades, nobody had documented them.
And when the experienced mechanics attempted to restore the engine to factory specifications, they had unknowingly erased the relationships that kept Aaron's unusual setup working.
Eli said almost nothing as they discovered it.
That impressed Cal more than if the boy had bragged.
At lunch, Mack brought sandwiches.
Everyone ate around the lift.
Eli sat alone near the door.
Mack carried a sandwich over.
"Turkey."
Eli looked at it.
"You don't have to."
"I know."
"How much?"
Mack frowned.
"For a sandwich?"
Eli nodded.
"Nothing."
The boy hesitated.
Mack placed it beside him.
"You found something four grown men missed. Consider us even."
Eli unwrapped the sandwich slowly.
After several bites, Mack sat beside him.
"Who taught you?"
Eli stopped chewing.
Mack waited.
Finally the boy said, "My brother."
"Older?"
"Nine years."
"He a mechanic?"
Eli looked toward the motorcycle.
"He was."
Mack heard the tense.
Was.
"What happened?"
Eli stood.
"Thanks for the food."
He carried the sandwich outside.
Mack started to follow.
Cal stopped him.
"Leave it."
Mack watched the door close.
"Where's he living?"
Cal hesitated.
"Nowhere, I think."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I've been trying to figure that out."
"You call anybody?"
"Not yet."
Mack frowned.
Cal bristled.
"Don't."
"He's fifteen."
"I know how old he is."
"Then you know sleeping in a garage isn't a plan."
"I know."
Mack lowered his voice.
"Why hasn't he told you anything?"
"Because every time I ask, he looks like he's deciding whether he needs to run."
The two men went silent.
Through the window, Eli sat on an overturned bucket eating the sandwich.
Mack looked back at Aaron's motorcycle.
"A bike gets fifty chances."
Cal frowned.
"What?"
"Something gets old, people search for parts. Spend money. Call experts. Stay up all night trying to save it."
Mack nodded toward the window.
"Kid shows up broken and everybody gets nervous about paperwork."
Cal didn't like the comparison.
Mostly because it was accurate.
That afternoon they returned to work.
This time Dennis handed Eli a clean pair of gloves.
"Don't make me regret this."
Eli looked at them.
"Why?"
"Because I'm letting you help."
Dennis pointed at the Shovelhead.
"And because apparently I'm taking mechanical advice from someone who isn't old enough to drive one."