Garrett laughed, but the laugh came with less force. "Lucky guess. You're a lucky little nobody, that's all."
Dale Prescott had stepped closer without realizing it. He leaned forward, trying to see the alignment mark before Owen closed the cover completely. The sight disturbed him. He had spent half an hour measuring symptoms while ignoring the physical modification that made ordinary readings misleading. His assistant, standing beside him, whispered that they should have checked the custom drive first. Dale told him to be quiet, then immediately regretted it.
The young man at the table called out the elapsed time. The opening inspection and first correction had used just over two minutes. A few people cheered sarcastically, certain the boy could not possibly have time for two more repairs. Garrett clapped his hands slowly above Owen's head, exaggerating each strike to make it sound like applause for a circus act.
Vince stepped closer and bent low. "One lucky poke doesn't save you, roach. Don't forget the crawling part."
Owen's shoulder tightened. He was afraid the biker would interfere with the tools, and the fear was practical rather than abstract. A wrong movement by somebody twice his weight could destroy both the repair and the wager. He turned his head only enough to address Vince directly. "Please stay clear of the work area. I don't want anyone hurt."
The politeness provoked more laughter. Vince put a heavy hand on Owen's shoulder and turned him partway toward the crowd. Owen waited until the hand moved, then turned back, using the brief interruption to check where his screwdriver lay. The tool was still beside the flashlight. He could finish the next job if nobody moved it again.
Nolan Briggs watched the boy reach for the carburetor. He felt a tightening in his stomach that had nothing to do with whether the wager would succeed. Earlier, he had cleaned that very component and declared it sound. He knew the float should move freely, and he had checked it in the position in which a float usually failed. But Owen was approaching the carburetor from a slightly different angle, studying a place Nolan had overlooked.
The Keihin carburetor had been fitted to Black Fury years after the engine was built. It was an improvement in some respects and a complication in others, because the parts were now old enough to accumulate wear not described in the earliest Shovelhead literature. Nolan had inspected it as an ordinary assembly. Owen knew it had a history, and history mattered when one generation's parts were combined with another's design.
He loosened the bowl with fast, practiced motions and caught the small amount of fuel that remained in a rag kept beside the engine. He had learned from Thomas never to be casual about gasoline near electrical components, no matter how hurried a customer was. Several spectators groaned at the interruption, but Owen refused to rush through the moment. He moved the rag away from the ignition area and looked into the bowl.