Even Rusty looked surprised.
He knew Arthur had worked around local riders, but he had never understood exactly how deeply.
Jim crouched slightly.
“Arty Hayes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Skinny guy? Always wore that ugly brown cap?”
Leo's expression brightened.
“He said it was lucky.”
“It was hideous.”
Leo smiled despite himself.
Jim did too.
Only for a second.
Then Jim looked at the bike.
“Your father worked on this machine.”
“A lot.”
“How much?”
Leo glanced toward the engine.
“Mr. Dutch broke it a lot.”
Several bikers laughed.
Jim actually barked a laugh.
“That's true.”
Rusty stepped closer.
“Leo, how do you know about the timing?”
Leo walked toward the motorcycle.
This time nobody stopped him.
He did not touch anything immediately.
He stood beside the right side of the engine, looking.
“My dad talked about it.”
“About this exact bike?”
Leo nodded.
“He called it the Widowmaker.”
Jim's eyes narrowed.
Nobody at Apex had told Leo that.
Dutch had used that nickname years ago.
The name had disappeared from regular conversation long before Leo was born.
“Why Widowmaker?” Tommy asked.
Leo shrugged.
“Dad said Mr. Dutch almost killed himself on it three times.”
Jim said, “Five.”
Leo considered that.
“Dad only knew about three.”
The room laughed again.
Even Rusty smiled.
Then Leo continued.
“He said Mr. Dutch broke the bottom end racing in Reno.”
Jim's smile vanished.
“What year?”
“Ninety-two.”
Hank stared at Jim.
“You remember that?”
Jim did.
Of course he remembered.
Reno.
Summer heat.
A motel with a broken ice machine.
Dutch coming back in a borrowed pickup because his FXR had destroyed itself during a reckless run.
For weeks afterward, Dutch and Arty practically lived in Arthur's rented workshop.
Nobody was allowed to see exactly what they were doing.
Dutch called it rebuilding.
Arty called it engineering abuse.
When the bike returned, it ran harder than before.
“What did they do?” Jim asked.
Leo pointed toward the cam cover.
“My dad said Mr. Dutch didn't have enough money to buy everything new.”
Jim laughed softly.
“That also sounds right.”
“So they used parts they had.”
“What parts?”
“Older stuff.”
Rusty crossed his arms.
“Be specific.”
Leo looked at him.
“Dad said they used a modified cam gear from a Shovelhead setup and made it work with the newer motor.”
The mechanics stopped smiling.
Tommy stepped toward the bike.
Rusty shook his head.
“That makes no sense.”
Leo shrugged.
“My dad said it wasn't supposed to.”
Big Dave muttered, “That's not exactly reassuring.”
Leo continued.
“He said the normal marks couldn't be trusted after what they changed.”
Rusty frowned.
“You're saying the reference marks aren't factory anymore.”
“They're still there.”
Leo nodded.
“They're just not telling the truth.”
That sentence landed differently.
Rusty looked toward the FXR.
For two weeks they had treated the bike like a damaged standard machine.
Factory service specifications.
Factory references.
Factory assumptions.
But what if the engine had stopped being factory decades ago?
Leo pointed.
“My dad said if you time it like the manual says, it fires wrong.”
“How wrong?” Pete asked.