“Power on.”
She pressed.
Clack.
“Off.”
She pressed.
“On.”
Clack.
Again.
Clack.
He removed the screwdriver.
“Now we clear the cylinders.”
“How?”
“Clear-flood mode.”
She stared.
He explained.
Full throttle.
Brake.
Starter.
No fuel injection during crank.
If the software supported it, the engine would expel excess fuel.
If not, they would stop immediately.
The Female CEO swallowed.
Then followed instructions.
The starter engaged.
Whir.
Whir.
Whir.
No thud.
The Single Dad shouted:
“Keep it.”
The smell hit seconds later.
Raw gasoline.
Strong.
Sharp.
The Female CEO’s eyes watered.
The engine spun faster.
The Single Dad yelled:
“Let off.”
She lifted the throttle.
The engine exploded into life.
A violent backfire cracked across the desert.
The Female CEO screamed.
Then laughed.
A real laugh.
Unexpected.
Wild.
The V12 roared behind her.
Warning lights began disappearing.
Fuel pressure normal.
Oil pressure normal.
Immobilizer cleared.
The CEO sat frozen.
Air-conditioning returned.
Cold air hit her face.
She closed her eyes.
She could have cried.
Instead she got out.
The Single Dad stood behind the car waving smoke away.
No victory pose.
No speech.
He looked annoyed by the exhaust.
She walked toward him.
“You fixed it.”
“Temporarily.”
“You fixed it.”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
“My engineers couldn’t.”
“They weren’t here.”
“You knew by listening.”
“Mostly.”
The Female CEO moved closer.
“Who are you?”
The Single Dad frowned.
“Tow driver.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“It’s what I answered.”
She stared.
He pulled a small notepad from his pocket.
Started writing.
“What are you doing?”
“Billing you.”
The Female CEO almost laughed again.
He handed her the paper.
SERVICE CALL — $75
DIAGNOSTIC — $50
TOTAL — $125
She looked at it.
Then at him.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“I would have paid you twenty thousand dollars five minutes ago.”