"Friday," he said. "Noon."
Rusty stepped forward. "We found the unusual engine parts your friend Arthur documented. We inspected and repaired what was damaged, verified the other systems, and traced the battery trouble to a hidden feature and a later fault. My crew believes the motorcycle is ready for a first proper start." He paused. "But we won't know for certain until we try."
Jim looked at him for a long moment. "That's the first time you've given me an answer I can trust without needing a promise at the end," he said. He turned toward Leo, who stood beside Nora near the office door. "How are you doing, kid?"
"Good, sir. A little nervous."
"So am I," Jim said.
The confession startled several of the riders. Jim paid them no attention, instead reaching into his pocket and unfolding the old Reno photograph. He showed it to Leo, pointing to Arthur and Dutch beside the motorcycle. "I found this at Dutch's place. I thought you might like to see it before we try."
Leo accepted the photograph carefully. His father looked younger than he had in any picture at home, his cheeks fuller and his smile less tired. He was kneeling in the gravel with a wrench in his hand, while Dutch leaned against the tank like a man entirely certain the world would wait for him. Leo touched Arthur's face in the picture and looked up at Jim with a question he had never thought he would be able to ask.
"Was Dad happy then?"
Jim swallowed. "Very," he answered.
"He was tired, and Dutch was driving him crazy, but he was happy. Your father loved solving problems, and Dutch was the biggest problem he ever volunteered to solve." He took a breath. "He loved talking about you too, later on. He was proud of you before you were old enough to know what that meant."
Leo looked down at the picture again. Nora rested a hand on his shoulder, and for a moment the garage was quiet enough that the ticking of a cooling engine outside could be heard. Jim took the photograph back only after promising to make a copy for Leo's family. Then he walked toward the FXR, his old confidence returning in measured steps rather than in anger.
"All right," he said. "Let's hear what she has to say."
Rusty confirmed that the work area was secure and that everyone had moved back from the motorcycle. Jim sat on the saddle, taking care to settle his weight as he had done hundreds of times in Dutch's presence. He remembered the man's hands on the bars, the way he leaned slightly forward before starting, and the little nod he used to give the engine as if it could understand respect. Jim turned the key and watched the instruments come alive.
He pressed the starter. The motor turned over cleanly, but the engine did not catch. The sound filled the garage for a few seconds and then stopped, leaving behind a silence heavier than any of them wanted to face.