parts and service

Ed has me working oil changes and inspection stickers. These things I could do in my sleep. All week, while Chargers and Road Runners roll in for fuel injectors and hydraulic suspensions, I'm checking fog lights and tire alignment. It's killing me. It's a Mustang that breaks the camel's back. She comes in with a cracked engine block and I just drop the clipboard and start looking under the hood, until Ed yells, "Dan, we're gonna let Sparky handle this one. We're gettin' on toward the end of the month, and there's folks in line for inspection. Attend to 'em."

And I lose it. "Is this what you brought me here for? To replace fuses? To realign tires? Any monkey with a wrench could do this job. Sparky can do this job. But you let him do real work while I shovel crap."

Sparky looks especially wounded, but Ed has an expression of satisfaction and interest on his stubbly face. He pauses incisively, and says, "No, I brought you here for a reason. But you could use some realignment yourself." I grit my teeth. "Tell you what, Kailey needs an exhaust system for a Neon she's working on, and we don't have one in stock. Why don't you go on down the street to Maura's and get the part, and some fresh air while you're at it." He scribbles an address on a yellow mini pad and tears off the page.

"Well, I'm sure as hell not staying here," I murmur, ripping the scrap of paper from his hand, and step outside to wander like Cain in the punishing heat.