Whitewall tires.
Chrome dulled by age but still substantial.
A 1963 Harley-Davidson Panhead that belonged to Tommy Foss, another longtime Iron Pines member.
It had developed an intermittent loss of power under load, a metallic clatter at higher rpm, an oil seep near the primary, and a tendency to idle perfectly in the garage before behaving badly on the road.
Three men had worked on it.
Nobody had solved it.
Jory set down her bag.
She did not immediately open it.
Instead she crouched beside the motorcycle.
Brack folded his arms.
She looked.
That was the first thing.
Not touching.
Looking.
Oil pattern beneath the primary.
Wear on the outer casing.
Residue near one fastener.
Fork leg.
Fuel line.
Control cables.
Spark plug leads.
The slight discoloration around the rear cylinder.
Only then did she begin touching components.
She checked free play.
Moved the advance assembly.
Smelled the oil on her fingertips.
Pulled one plug.
Asked Brack to start it.
He did.
Jory listened from the left side.
Then the right.
She crouched lower.
“Bring it up to eighteen hundred.”
Brack did.
“Twenty-two.”
The engine note changed.
Jory’s face changed with it.
“Back to idle.”
Brack released the throttle.
She checked her watch.
Nine minutes after she had first knelt down, she stood.
“The primary chaincase gasket is leaking. That’s obvious, but it isn’t your real problem.”
Brack’s arms remained crossed.
“Go on.”
“The mechanical timing advance is sticking.”
He frowned.
“It moves.”
“It moves here.”
She pointed.
“It isn’t returning properly when it gets hot. The weights are gummed and one spring’s weak. That’s why you can make it idle beautifully in the bay and still have it lose itself under load.”
Brack looked at the engine.
Jory continued.
“Whoever rode it last was pushing it before it was fully warm. Probably repeatedly. Timing was staying too far advanced once the mechanism heated and started binding.”
Brack finally uncrossed his arms.
“You get all that from nine minutes?”
“No.”
She pointed toward the fork.
“You’ve also got a slow left fork seal leak. See the old track down the lower leg? It’s minor now. Won’t be minor in spring.”
Brack stared.
Jory picked up her tool bag.
“Want me to write it down?”
Brack turned around.
He walked directly back toward the front.
Jory waited.
A minute later he returned with Calvin.
Calvin listened to her repeat the diagnosis.
He asked only two questions.
“How long?”
“Four hours if the hardware behaves. Five if it doesn’t.”
“Parts?”
She answered immediately.
“Primary chaincase gasket set. Advance springs. I’d replace both even though only one is visibly weak. Clean and inspect the weights before ordering the full advance assembly. Fork seal can wait if Tommy wants, but if the bike’s going into winter storage anyway, I’d do it now.”
Calvin looked at her.
“You got part numbers?”
She looked slightly to his left.
Her eyes moved once.
Then she recited them.
Brack gave Calvin a look.
Calvin almost smiled.
“Thursday.”
Jory blinked.
“What?”
“Come back Thursday. Bring what you need.”
“All right.”
“You charge shop rate?”
“I charge my rate.”
“What’s that?”