The engine responded immediately.
She listened again.
Perfect.
Or close enough to perfect that she couldn't stop smiling.
Then headlights appeared outside.
Samantha's smile vanished.
Jackson.
The clock read 5:27 a.m.
He had arrived early.
Two other motorcycles pulled in behind him.
Jackson entered the garage.
He stopped.
His eyes went directly to the Panhead.
It was assembled.
Clean.
Running.
He stared at Samantha.
Then at the motorcycle.
Then back at Samantha.
"Who fixed it?"
She swallowed.
"I did."
Jackson looked around.
"Where are Tom and the boys?"
"Home."
His eyebrows rose.
"You fixed my Panhead alone?"
Samantha nodded.
Jackson stepped closer.
The engine continued to idle.
He listened.
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Samantha noticed.
"Shut it off."
She did.
Jackson walked around the motorcycle.
He inspected the manifold.
The carburetor.
The timing marks.
The fasteners.
He looked underneath.
Then he looked at Samantha.
"What was wrong?"
"Vacuum leak."
He said nothing.
"Your intake manifold was warped. The leak made it run lean. The lean mixture caused pre-ignition. That's the knocking you heard."
Jackson stared at her.
"Tom said the block was cracked."
"It isn't."
"How do you know?"
"I checked."
Jackson looked at the engine again.
Then he smiled.
Not warmly.
Not yet.
But there was something close to respect in his expression.
"Start her."
Samantha did.
The Panhead roared.
Jackson listened.
The two riders behind him exchanged glances.
One whispered:
"That's the cleanest I've heard her sound in years."
Jackson nodded.
Then he looked at Samantha.
"Ride with us."
She blinked.
"What?"
"You fixed it."
"I'm not a rider."
Jackson smiled.
"Everybody who understands motorcycles is a rider."
The Return of the Owners
Tom arrived at 7:15.
Billy and Dave came with him.
They expected disaster.
Instead, they heard the Panhead running before they entered the garage.
Tom stopped.
Billy's mouth fell open.
Dave stared.
Jackson stood beside the motorcycle.
Samantha was cleaning her tools.
Tom looked from the motorcycle to Samantha.
"What happened?"
Jackson answered.
"Your girl fixed it."
Tom's face changed.
"What?"
Billy immediately stepped forward.
"That wasn't her."
Jackson turned.
Billy stopped.
Jackson pointed toward the engine.
"Tell me what was wrong."
Billy hesitated.
"Cracked case."
Jackson shook his head.
"No."
Dave tried.
"Magneto."
"No."
"Valve?"
"No."
Jackson looked at Samantha.
"Tell them."
Samantha didn't smile.
"Intake manifold was warped."
Billy frowned.
"That doesn't cause a knock like that."
"It does when the engine runs lean enough to detonate."
Dave stared at the manifold.
He picked up the straightedge.
He checked it.
His expression changed.
He looked again.
Then at Samantha.
"You machined this?"
She nodded.
"By hand."
Billy said nothing.
Jackson started the Panhead again.
The engine settled into a smooth idle.
Then he turned to Tom.
"How much?"
Tom looked confused.
"For the repair?"
Jackson nodded.
Tom opened his mouth.
Samantha spoke first.
"Nothing."
Everyone looked at her.
She wiped her hands.
"I don't want money."
Jackson frowned.
"Why?"
"Because I work here."
Tom suddenly looked uncomfortable.
Jackson stared at him.
"She works here?"
Tom nodded.
Jackson looked around the garage.
Then back at Samantha.
"How long?"
"Three years."
"Three years?"
Tom nodded.
Jackson's voice hardened.
"And you've had her sweeping floors?"
Tom didn't answer.
Jackson walked toward him.
"She just saved a seventy-four-year-old motorcycle that your two lead mechanics nearly killed."
Billy's face reddened.
"Hey—"
Jackson raised one hand.
Billy stopped.
"I don't care about your pride."
He pointed at Samantha.
"That woman heard what the rest of you couldn't."
Then he looked at Tom.
"You'd better start listening."
The Ride to Sturgis
The memorial run began at eight-thirty.
More than a hundred motorcycles gathered along the highway.
Chrome.
Leather.
Black paint.
Engines.
The air shook with sound.
Samantha stood beside the Panhead.
She had never seen anything like it.
Jackson approached.
"You sure you don't want to come?"
She shook her head.
"I have work."
Jackson laughed.
"After what happened last night, you're still worried about this place?"