The first time Dylan saw Isaiah's Mustang, it was parked near the neighborhood entrance after a Saturday charity drive.
Isaiah had volunteered to deliver supplies for a local youth automotive program. He wasn't using the Mustang to carry everything, but he'd brought it to a gathering where several teenagers were learning about mechanical engineering and classic-car restoration.
The bright-yellow Fastback attracted a crowd.
Its black racing stripes looked striking beneath the afternoon sunlight.
The chrome gleamed.
And the engine ran with the steady, carefully maintained sound of a vehicle whose owner understood it intimately.
Dylan approached holding his phone.
"That's yours?"
Isaiah nodded.
"Yes."
"What year?"
"Sixty-seven."
Dylan walked around it.
"Original fastback?"
Isaiah smiled.
"The body began life as one, yes. A lot of work has been done over the years."
Dylan examined the interior.
"How much?"
Isaiah frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"How much would you take for it?"
Isaiah shook his head.
"It's not for sale."
Dylan laughed.
"Everything's for sale."
"Not everything."
The younger man studied him.
"Come on. One hundred grand?"
Isaiah smiled faintly.
"No."
"More?"
"No amount."
Dylan seemed offended.
"You don't even know what I'd offer."
Isaiah looked toward the car.
"I know what it means to me."
For a moment, Dylan stared.
Then he stepped backward.
"Whatever, man."
He took several photographs.
Isaiah assumed that was the end of it.
He had no reason to believe Dylan would spend the next several months trying to turn those photographs into a claim over a car he didn't own.
Three weeks later, Pamela mentioned the Mustang at an HOA social event.
Isaiah was standing near the clubhouse refreshments table when she approached wearing a bright coral dress and carrying her usual clipboard.
"Mr. Reed. I hear you have quite the collector's car."
Isaiah smiled.
"My father's old Mustang."
She nodded.
"Dylan says it's very valuable."
"It's important to me."
Pamela seemed not to notice the distinction.
"We're considering a neighborhood heritage event. Classic cars, local vendors, perhaps a charity auction. Your vehicle would be a wonderful centerpiece."
Isaiah considered the proposal.
A community car show sounded harmless.
He enjoyed meeting other enthusiasts.
But he didn't want the Mustang involved in a promotional event without knowing the arrangements.
"What would you need from me?"
Pamela smiled.
"Just the car for a day or two."
He frowned.
"A day or two?"
"Dylan can handle transportation and display."
Isaiah shook his head.
"I don't lend the car out."
Her smile faded.