“See what?”
“The resistance isn't coming from the pistons.”
“How do you know?”
“If it was piston contact, you'd hear it.”
Dustin moved the crank again.
“And it isn't the valves.”
Ray stepped closer.
“Why?”
“Because the resistance happens before the valve event completes.”
Pete stared at him.
Dustin pointed toward the timing side.
“Your problem is here.”
Jerry grabbed a flashlight.
“Open it.”
Pete immediately objected.
“Jerry.”
“Open it.”
They removed the cover.
Dustin leaned closer.
He didn't touch anything.
He simply stared.
Minutes passed.
Then he said:
“There's your problem.”
Pete looked.
“Where?”
Dustin pointed to the timing marks.
Pete stared.
His face changed.
Jerry leaned over his shoulder.
Ray came closer.
The marks were aligned according to the factory position.
But something about them was wrong.
Dustin whispered:
“Someone moved the relationship.”
Pete shook his head.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
Dustin pointed again.
“Not impossible.”
He looked at Frankie.
“Just deliberate.”
Jerry removed the assembly.
They inspected it.
The parts looked original.
That was what made the discovery strange.
Nothing appeared obviously damaged.
But the alignment was off by several degrees.
Pete pulled out an old service manual.
He checked the specifications.
Then checked again.
Finally, he looked at Dustin.
“How did you see that?”
Dustin shrugged.
“My uncle taught me.”
Frankie asked:
“What was your uncle's name?”
Dustin looked toward the floor.
“Cal.”
“Cal what?”
“Cal Mercer.”
Jerry froze.
Pete slowly turned toward him.
“Mercer?”
Dustin nodded.
Jerry stared at the boy.
“Cal Mercer?”
“Yes.”
Jerry took a step backward.
“Cal Mercer from Stockton?”
Dustin nodded again.
Jerry sat down.
“Oh, God.”
Frankie looked confused.
“You knew him?”
Jerry rubbed his face.
“Knew him?”
He laughed softly.
“Cal taught me half of what I know.”
Pete stared at Dustin.
“Why didn't you tell us?”
Dustin looked embarrassed.
“You didn't ask.”
Jerry looked at the boy for a long moment.
Then he noticed the bruise beneath Dustin's eye.
“Who did that?”
Dustin immediately looked away.
“Doesn't matter.”
“It matters.”
“No.”
Frankie stepped closer.
“Kid.”
Dustin looked up.
Frankie pointed toward the door.
“Anyone hurting you?”
Dustin didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Frankie didn't push.
Instead, he looked at Jerry.
“Fix the motorcycle.”
Jerry nodded.
Then Frankie looked back at Dustin.
“And after that, we talk.”
Dustin's eyes narrowed.
“About what?”
“About why a sixteen-year-old mechanic is sleeping behind my friend's garage.”
Dustin lowered his gaze.
“I don't have anywhere else.”
Frankie stood silent.
He knew that sentence.
Not because he had ever slept behind a garage.
But because grief, poverty, and abandonment all had the same language.
Jerry spoke quietly.
“He can stay here.”
Frankie nodded.
“Then he stays.”
Pete looked at Dustin.
“You'd better be right about that timing.”
Dustin looked at the motorcycle.
“I am.”
Pete smiled.
“We'll see.”
But none of them realized that the strange timing wasn't the most important thing Dustin had discovered.
The old Harley was hiding something.
And someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to make sure nobody found it.
Wild Bill's Secret
By Thursday morning, Iron & Oil had become a laboratory.
The Harley was partially disassembled.
Parts covered three workbenches.
Jerry had brought out manuals he hadn't touched in years.
Pete had contacted an old machinist.
Ray was checking the electrical system again.
And Dustin stood quietly beside the motorcycle, watching.
He wasn't treated like a mechanic yet.
Not officially.
But nobody told him to sweep.
Nobody called him a kid.
They had begun asking his opinion.
That mattered to Dustin more than he admitted.
At noon, Frankie arrived carrying two paper bags.
“Lunch.”
Pete opened one.
“What's this?”
“Food.”
“I know what food is.”
“Then eat it.”
Pete grinned.
Dustin stood near the doorway.
Frankie held out a sandwich.
Dustin didn't move.
“It's yours.”
Dustin accepted it carefully.
“Thanks.”
Frankie sat on a stool.
“You knew Bill?”
Dustin shook his head.
“No.”
“Your uncle did?”
“Yes.”
“What did Cal say?”
Dustin hesitated.
“He said Wild Bill was one of the few men who never forgot where he came from.”
Frankie smiled.
“That sounds like Bill.”
Dustin took a bite.
Frankie watched him.
“You know why this motorcycle matters?”
Dustin looked at the Harley.
“Because of Bill.”
“That's part of it.”
Frankie pulled an old photograph from his wallet.
It showed two young men standing beside two motorcycles.
Frankie pointed.
“That's me.”
Then Bill.
Dustin looked at the photograph.
“Different world.”
“Yeah.”
“What happened to him?”
“Cancer.”
Dustin looked down.
“How long?”
“Thirty-one years.”
Dustin was quiet.
Frankie continued.
“Bill knew he was dying. He gave me the Harley six weeks before.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew I wouldn't let anyone ruin it.”
Dustin looked at the motorcycle.
“Did he leave you anything else?”
Frankie stared at him.
“No.”
Dustin returned to his sandwich.
But later that afternoon, while cleaning an old parts shelf, Dustin found a box.