The lead mechanic frowned.
"We had intermittent symptoms."
"Then where are the supporting readings?"
"We didn't record every little thing."
The retired technician looked up.
"When you're spending someone else's money, you should."
The president remained silent.
The inspection continued.
The retired man found several old components that were still functional, a newer part that hadn't been documented correctly, and wiring that needed careful examination before the motorcycle could safely operate. He also noticed that an expensive item listed on the repair invoice had never been installed.
He asked where it was.
The lead mechanic said it had been returned.
The younger mechanic checked the inventory.
There was no record of a return.
The retired technician wrote something in his notebook.
The president watched him.
"How bad is it?"
The older technician removed his glasses.
"The motorcycle needs work. It's old, and old motorcycles need proper maintenance. But I haven't seen evidence that the engine itself requires the kind of expensive rebuild described in these estimates."
The lead mechanic interrupted.
"You haven't opened it up."
"Neither have you."
The words landed heavily.
The retired technician continued.
"You're recommending major internal work without the tests needed to justify it."
The lead mechanic flushed.
"I've been doing this for twenty years."
"Then you should know better."
The room fell silent.
The president stepped forward.
"Can we make it run?"
The retired technician nodded cautiously.
"Probably. But I'm more interested in making sure it runs safely and reliably."
"How long?"
"That depends on what else we find."
The president looked toward the lead mechanic.
"What do you have to say?"
The mechanic spread his hands.
"He's entitled to his opinion."
The president's voice became quiet.
"That's all?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to explain why I've paid thousands of dollars for parts that aren't here."
The lead mechanic stared at him.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that the president was no longer merely irritated.
He was investigating.
That afternoon, the teenager returned to the garage accompanied by the family services coordinator.
He had slept in a supervised emergency placement and had been given clean clothes, a hot shower, and a proper breakfast. He still wore his olive-green jacket because it was one of the few possessions he considered entirely his. But his face looked less exhausted, and his hair had been neatly combed.
The president noticed immediately.
"You look better."
The boy shrugged.
"Slept."
"Good."
The coordinator smiled.
"We've made progress contacting his mother's care team. We should have an update soon."
The president nodded.
The teenager looked toward the Shovelhead.
"Did it start?"
"Not yet."
"Oh."
"Doesn't mean we're giving up."
The boy studied the activity around the lift.