[Bonus Chapter] Deal And Dangers (2)

"Excuse me sir, I think you're mistaking me—"

Jack tried to clarify things, but the old man had no intention of listening to him. It was only on his third try that the old put his tools down and glared at him.

"You're the investor Mehra told me about," he said. "If you thought you could throw your money and own this place, then you're mistaken. Only a mechanic owns a garage, and I won't give it to anyone else. You want to invest? Then show me what you can do or you can leave like those before you."

Jack was surprised by the old man's words. However, those words only proved the man's dedication to the craft.

Convictions were the first thing to disappear during rough times, and it wasn't any different for Jack. If he had been in the old man's possible, he would have sold the rundown place to the first investor.

Yet despite the garage's state, the old man didn't want to money from random people. He wanted a true car mechanic to invest in his business, and hence set up a test in the form of the broken bike.

It was the part which troubled Jack.

Why the heck would anyone with money go through all this trouble just to invest in some place? There were probably dozens of garages in the city, so what made this place special? The location was decent, but that was about it. There were no other redeeming features about the garage.

Jack wanted to ask the old man about it, but the latter got busy fixing the ancient car.

I should leave. There are two other places I can invest—

However, Jack's train of thought halted when he noticed the bike's logo. Years of neglect had led to rust accumulating around it, but he barely made out the wings of the logo.

Jack squatted down, staring at each part of the bike. It was a Bavidson Street Glide, there was no denying it. The first bike Jack ever bought, no… it was his first love.

It wasn't the same bike that he bought, but everything about it was the same. The sleek black body, the chrome-plated engine, and those elongated exhaust pipes. Only the saddlebags were missing and it would look just like his bike.

Jack didn't even notice when the corner of his eyes got moist. Just like that, he decided. He didn't give a damn about the garage, but he was taking the bike for himself.

"How much for the bike?" he asked the old man.

"Fix it, and it's yours," The old man said, tossing the keys to Jack.

While the young man didn't notice his moist eyes, the old man did. He was young too once and knew what it meant to own their first vehicle.

They didn't make bikes like this anymore, and he figured Jack must have grown up around one. Perhaps his father owned one, and it got taken away or something along those lines. That would explain his emotional state.

Jack ran a hand over the vinyl-covered seat, and memories came rushing at him. He had worked three minimum-wage jobs over three years to get it second-hand, only for his father to take it away and had it to his golden child.

Back then, Jack couldn't do anything since he had no place to go to and denying his father would have led him to homelessness. But in time, he got his revenge on them. He could still imagine their expressions when they found out about what he had done… before dying by their hands.

No point thinking about all that now.

He didn't want to focus on those terrible memories. Instead, he was eager to make new memories after restoring the Glide to its former glory.

"Fix it… Fix it…"

To fix it, one first had to know what was wrong with it. Jack slid the key into ignition and turned it.

Nothing happened.

The engine made some noise before falling silent.

Jack tried again, but the result remained unchanged.

"I told you to fix it, not wish it back to life."

The old man scoffed, shaking his head before getting back to fixing the car.

"…"

Jack didn't reply, just put the thing on the stand and crouched next to the engine. Despite not using the bike for long, Jack had fixed it a few times in his past life. So he knew a thing or two about it, but he wasn't a professional.

Still, not wanting to give up, he tried everything he knew.

Since the bike was old, he first checked the fuel tank. While it was low on fuel, it wasn't low enough to stop the bike from starting.

The old man must have changed the oil often.

With one problem out of the way, he checked the battery. Once again, the battery wasn't old and probably had enough charge to start the damn thing.

Then came the spark plugs. Much like the bike, they were worn out, but looked fine, at least visually. Even the air filter was fine.

Jack sighed in frustration. He was running out of ideas and couldn't figure out what was wrong.

Meanwhile, the old man watched Jack from the corner of his eyes.

At first he had thought Jack was another rich brat trying to buy the location to reconstruct it into something else. However, his opinion changed slightly after watching Jack pour his heart and soul into the bike.

He has the heart in the right place. Should I help him?

The old man thought before shaking his head. It was a test, not a charity event for the gifted. The boy would have to figure out the problem on his own. Only then the old man would lend his hand to him.

Jack noticed the old man's gaze and clicked his tongue. The old bastard wanted to see if he would quit. Well, he would be annoyed because Jack had no intention of giving up.

He pulled the dipstick again and this time he noticed something he had failed to the previous time. Instead of smooth liquid oil, he found mud-like tar clinging on to the dipstick.

He tried turning the engine manually and felt the resistance once again. The sticky sludge was making the pistons stick.

No wonder this thing isn't starting.

After identifying the problem, Jack flopped onto the floor, sighing in relief. However, identifying the issue was just the start. Now, he had to fix it. The only problem was that he did not know how.

He could open the engine, clean it and put it back together, in the hopes it was enough. The only issue was that… it would take days for all that, especially since he had little to no experience in disassembling an engine.

"I need help," Jack said, admitting his defeat. "The engine oil has turned into sludge, clogging more paths than I'm even aware of. I think it would require a full teardown and cleaning before I can start on the rest."

"And?" The old man asked.

"…I was hoping you could supervise me."

The old man wiped his hands on a rag and walked over. At first, Jack thought he would give another snarky comment about fixing it himself. Jack didn't care about that. He was worried the old man would kick him out and he would lose the bike.

But to his surprise, he patted his back before smiling… like genuinely smiling.

"We'll start at 10 in the morning," he said. "Be here on time. I don't like brats who aren't punctual. Come on, I'll see you out."

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, looking back at the bike when a car stopped before them. Mehra walked out along with a young lady.

"Grandpa! Don't tell me you rejected another investor!" the girl exclaimed.