At sixteen, he rebuilt his first carburetor without help.
Frank inspected it.
Then disassembled part of it again.
Leo groaned.
“You said without help.”
“I didn’t say without inspection.”
At seventeen, Leo could hear a weak compensator before some customers could describe the noise.
That came from Arthur.
Nobody taught it.
Jim noticed.
One afternoon Dutch’s FXR came in for annual service.
Leo was changing oil on another motorcycle.
Jim waited until he finished.
“You want it?”
Leo looked at the FXR.
“Service?”
“Yeah.”
Leo glanced at Russell.
Russell nodded.
“Your bay.”
That was the first time.
Leo rolled Dutch’s motorcycle onto his lift.
The same motorcycle he had stood beside at eight.
He removed the seat.
Saw the replica tag.
ARTHUR HAYES.
He smiled.
Then he worked.
Slowly.
Correctly.
No ghosts.
No audience.
Just a mechanic maintaining an old machine.
At the timing inspection, he checked the twelve-degree mark.
Still correct.
He opened Arthur’s notebook anyway.
Not because he had forgotten.
Because remembering and verifying were different things.
Frank noticed.
“Third check?”
Leo smiled.
“Ego.”
Frank nodded.
When the service was done, Jim came to collect the motorcycle.
Leo handed him the keys.
Jim did not start it immediately.
Instead, he looked at the seventeen-year-old.
“You know, Dutch would’ve been unbearable today.”
Leo laughed.
“Why?”
“Proud.”
Leo looked away.
Jim continued.
“Arthur too.”
Leo said quietly, “Dad would’ve found something wrong.”
Jim smiled.
“Absolutely.”
Leo leaned against the workbench.
“Jim.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever wish you told me earlier?”
“About Dutch?”
“Yes.”
Jim thought.
“No.”
Leo looked surprised.
“I wish Arthur got to.”
That answer was better.
At eighteen, Leo graduated high school.
People assumed he would immediately become a full-time motorcycle mechanic.
He did not.
He enrolled at Sacramento State.
Mechanical engineering.
Frank called him a traitor.
Russell called him smart.
Claire cried.
Jim gave him an envelope containing five hundred dollars.
Leo refused.
Jim stared.
“You’re exactly like your father.”
“I don’t need it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
Jim thought.
Then smiled.
“Fine.”
He took the money back.
Leo laughed.
Two days later Jim gave him a used laptop instead.
Leo tried refusing.
Jim said, “Too late. No receipt.”
Leo kept it.
College changed his relationship with machines.
He learned formulas Arthur had understood intuitively.
Materials science.
Thermodynamics.