Electrical tape residue mixed with corrosion.
He asked:
“Need a mirror.”
Mack handed him an inspection mirror before realizing he had done it.
Noah angled it under the tank.
A second later his expression sharpened.
“There.”
Everybody leaned.
Ray could see nothing.
“What?”
“Harness.”
“What about it?”
“It’s rubbing.”
Mack crouched.
“Where?”
Noah pointed.
“Behind that bracket.”
Mack took the light.
His face changed.
The insulation on one wire had worn through where the harness vibrated against the edge of a small steel support.
The exposed conductor was barely visible.
There was also a pale green trace of corrosion around the damaged insulation.
Noah said:
“Water got in during the storm.”
Mack stared.
Noah continued:
“Vibration lets it touch bracket.”
“Grounds circuit.”
“When it starts, engine vibration moves harness just enough to short.”
Ray looked at the clock.
“Two minutes.”
Noah finally moved fast.
“Kill switch off.”
Ray did.
“Battery disconnect.”
Mack automatically reached for a wrench.
Noah stopped him.
“Negative first.”
Mack looked insulted.
“I know.”
“Then do it.”
Several mechanics laughed.
Mack glared at them.
He disconnected.
Noah loosened the bracket slightly.
He carefully moved the harness away.
The damaged section needed proper repair, but for diagnosis he insulated it temporarily and repositioned the wire so it could not touch metal.
He tightened the bracket enough to secure routing.
“Battery.”
Mack reconnected.
Noah stood.
He wiped both hands on the faded red shirt.
“Start it.”
Ray looked at him.
The yard had gone silent.
He glanced at his watch.
Four minutes and thirty-eight seconds.
He put his thumb on the starter.
Pressed.
The engine fired.
One second.
Two.
Three.
It kept running.
Ray did not breathe.
Five seconds.
Ten.
The idle settled into the deep, uneven rhythm he had known for years.
Mack stared at the motorcycle.
One mechanic slowly removed his cap.
Another whispered:
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Ray twisted the throttle once.
The engine responded cleanly.
Released.
Still running.
Noah looked toward the harness.
“Turn it off.”
Ray stared.
“What?”
“It still needs a proper repair.”
For the first time that afternoon, Ray laughed.
Not loudly.
One rough breath that turned into another.
He shut the motorcycle down.
Then looked at the boy.
“You did it.”
Noah shrugged.
“I found it.”
“That’s generally how fixing works.”
Mack stood.
His face had turned red.
“You got lucky.”
The yard became quiet again.
Noah looked at him.
Mack continued.
“That abrasion could have been anywhere.”
“You asked about rain and happened to look there.”
Noah nodded.
“Could’ve been.”
Mack seemed dissatisfied by the lack of argument.