And the metallic-blue car waiting beneath its cover.
Eventually, my sister joined me.
We opened the garage together.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then she lifted one corner of the cover.
The Phoenix's front fender appeared beneath the fluorescent lights.
Its paint still shone.
My sister began crying.
I wrapped one arm around her.
We stood there beside the car, remembering a man who had spent most of his life working with his hands and teaching his children that care and patience mattered more than showing off.
That was the moment I decided I would finish preserving the car properly.
Not because I expected it to become famous.
Because my father deserved to see his work honored, even if he wasn't alive to watch.
The value surprised me.
I contacted an automotive preservation specialist to examine the car and review my father's documentation.
The specialist had spent decades evaluating rare American prototypes, historic performance vehicles, and factory development cars.
At first, he was skeptical.
He'd seen countless owners claim their vehicles were one-of-a-kind factory prototypes when the supporting records told a less exciting story.
But my father's files were unusually complete.
Original purchase documents.
Photographs from the testing facility.
Maintenance records.
Correspondence with former employees.
Factory drawings.
And detailed records of the components preserved during restoration.
The specialist spent three days examining the car.
He photographed the chassis stamp.
Measured body panels.
Compared internal identification marks with surviving factory records.
And reviewed an archive containing engineering photographs from the original development program.
At the end of the inspection, he sat across from me at my father's workbench.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked toward the car.
"I've been doing this for thirty-one years."
I nodded.
He continued.
"And I don't think I've ever seen documentation this complete for a surviving prototype from this manufacturer."
I stared.
He opened his laptop.
Then explained why the Phoenix was extraordinary.
It wasn't simply rare.
It was the only known surviving fully assembled development prototype from that particular program, with original major mechanical components, verified factory identity, and a history connecting it to the engineers and technicians who worked on it.
The specialist estimated that serious collectors and institutions would regard it as historically significant.
Then he discussed value.
He was cautious.
Unique vehicles didn't have ordinary market comparisons.
Their prices depended on authentication, condition, provenance, buyer demand, and the circumstances of a sale.
But after consulting additional specialists and reviewing available comparable transactions, he prepared a formal appraisal.