Chapter 16: Intelligence Dropped
Chapter 16: Intelligence Dropped
“Uh, well... yes, that’s true... Didn’t I write that in the description...?”
The seller lowered her head and spoke in a voice barely louder than a mosquito.
She had written it.
Runs and drives.
I just had not realized that “drives” meant forward only.
No wonder it was so ridiculously cheap.
There were many possible reasons why a car might not reverse, but I could not make a precise diagnosis on the spot.
“Whew. It looks like there may be a transmission problem. I don’t think I can buy this car...”
If I was unlucky and the transmission itself was shot, the minimum repair bill would start at around two thousand dollars, which would quickly destroy the appeal of the deal.
“W-Wait! I really need cash urgently... Then I’ll sell it to you for $3,800. Would that still not work? Sometimes reverse does work if I keep trying.”
The seller was a woman in her late twenties with long, curly brown hair.
She did not seem to know much about cars, and at the same time, she looked extremely anxious.
This isn’t stolen or something, is it?
The fact that she had immediately knocked three hundred dollars off the price made me even more suspicious.
“Do you have the title with you?”
If she started saying nonsense like she had lost it, or that a friend or her parents had it, then this was one hundred percent a problem vehicle.
I would leave without looking back.
“Yes, I have the title. I was told it was necessary for a private sale, so I brought it.”
Oh.
That changed things.
Maybe she’s just nervous because this is her first private sale.
“You said reverse sometimes engages. Once it does engage, does the car move normally? No unusual sounds or vibration?”
At least it did not seem to be stolen.
Now I needed to estimate the likely scope of the fault.
That would be extremely important in determining the future profit.
“Um, yes... Once it goes into reverse, it moves without any problems...”
I did not place much trust in her words anymore.
Still, that particular statement was probably true.
Because based on the symptoms, I suspected a solenoid problem.
This car used the later-model 4R75E automatic transmission.
As the designation indicated, it was a four-speed transmission.
In other words, it was a durable unit that did not commonly suffer catastrophic internal gear failure.
Especially since all the other gears engaged smoothly, there was a high chance that the problem was in the hydraulic control system.
And if that assumption was correct, the repair cost would be much lower than expected.
Replacing a solenoid pack was a job where labor usually cost more than the parts.
“Three thousand three hundred dollars. I can pay cash right now. If that doesn’t work for you, I’ll walk away.”
I reduced her latest asking price by another five hundred dollars.
After considering the time I had spent today and the auction proxy fee, that was my limit.
“Ugh... All right. I’ll do it.”
She frowned and thought for a moment before finally agreeing.
And at that exact moment—
Ding—
Lot 61 won at $4,150. Lot 62 won at $3,900. Got both cars. Haha!
A successful-auction message arrived from Chuck, who was bidding on my behalf.
Oh, Uncle Chuck! A veteran really is a veteran.
Even the prices were extremely close to the optimal values.
“Then I’ll pay cash for the vehicle. Please hand over the title, and let’s fill out the Bill of Sale.”
Once I had also secured the Bill of Sale I would need later for taxes, all three restoration base cars had been acquired.
Almost simultaneously.
It was completely unexpected, but with a time limit hanging over me, this was actually welcome.
All right. The spending stage is over. Time to start making money.
Now it was time to invest my body and my time.
Vroooom—clunk!
“Hmm. As expected, it goes into reverse when I do it this way.”
After returning to the warehouse with the newly purchased car, I raised the engine speed slightly by pressing the accelerator and then shifted into gear.
Just as the seller had said, reverse did engage intermittently.
Judging from the feel and the impact when it engaged, this was not a critical problem requiring complete transmission replacement.
The diagnostic scanner was also showing code P0750.
“Good! If it’s P0750, there’s over a ninety percent chance it’s a Shift Solenoid A circuit problem.”
It really felt like I had found exactly the right car for me.
The symptoms sounded frightening, but once opened up, the repair would likely be straightforward and manageable.
The two auction cars Chuck had secured also had no hidden surprises beyond the disclosed defects.
Which meant I now needed...
One solenoid pack.
One intake manifold.
Eight spark plugs and eight ignition coils.
Two control arms.
Two front brake rotors and sets of pads.
And a variety of consumables, including engine oil.
This time, there were no exterior parts involved, and every required component was easy to find online.
To conserve coins, I bought everything with dollars.
The parts and consumables for all three cars cost $2,200, but since I had already made profit from the previous restoration, it was not a major burden.
This isn’t sunk cost. It’s investment.
In the past, spending this much money would have made my hands tremble.
At some point, however, my fear of spending—or rather, investing—had begun to fade.
Besides, the bigger problem I faced was not parts procurement or the repairs themselves.
It was lack of time.
“Haah. I went ahead and committed to it.”
Now that three black cars in need of repairs were lined up outside the warehouse, the pressure was considerable.
Maybe the fact that they were police cars made them even more intimidating.
“There’s no choice. I’ll just eat and sleep here until all three are finished.”
There were approximately three weeks left before the event.
Considering parade registration and other preparations, I needed to deliver the vehicles at least ten days before the event.
I was in a situation where even the time spent commuting from the motel had to be eliminated.
I can order all the parts online and have them delivered. As for sleep, I can just crash on the warehouse floor.
To anyone else, that would have sounded insane.
But for me, it was not particularly unusual.
During operations, I had endured much worse conditions for dozens of days.
And while wandering around afterward, I had often slept curled up in the truck for several nights at a time.
It’s just a few difficult days. Besides, it’s June, so the nights aren’t even that cold.
At the time, I had no idea that my body was nowhere near the condition it had been in back then.
Only my mentality had remained unrusted.
My body had not.
Repairing the Crown Victorias themselves was not particularly difficult.
Even though I was working on three cars simultaneously, the proficiency bonus seemed even stronger than before.
At times, I almost felt like a veteran mechanic.
However, after several days of living like that, an unexpected problem appeared.
First was food.
I ordered cup soup, instant noodles, protein bars, and instant oatmeal for delivery and stocked up on them.
At first, even that was tolerable.
In the past, when people thought of instant cup noodles in the United States, Japanese brands such as Nissin had dominated the shelves.
(Translator’s Note: Nissin — A Japanese food company associated with the development of modern instant noodles. Founder Momofuku Ando introduced Chicken Ramen in 1958, and Cup Noodles was launched in Japan in 1971 before later expansion into the U.S. market.)
Now, however, even Korean spicy instant noodles could easily be purchased online.
The problem was that I was not fueling a machine.
After repeatedly eating as though calories alone were enough, I quickly reached my limit.
Why do I feel so sluggish every morning lately? My whole body feels stiff too.
My meals, rest, and exercise were all inadequate.
I could feel my condition deteriorating in real time.
I even seemed to be losing muscle.
During operations, I had been able to sleep on dirt for days without much trouble...
Once this restoration is finished, I really need to improve my lifestyle. I’ve decided to settle down now anyway.
But for the moment, there was no alternative.
I simply had to burn through whatever stamina I had left and endure.
On the morning of the eleventh day after I had begun working day and night—
The restoration of all three Crown Victoria Police Interceptors was finally complete.
“Whew. Finally finished.”
Working under a deadline had been brutally exhausting.
Still, seeing the three polished cars lined up and gleaming gave me an enormous sense of satisfaction.
The moment I called to say one of them was finished, Steven came rushing over and immediately loaded it up.
The buyers Karen had introduced were scheduled to pick up the remaining two that afternoon.
Perhaps because the event was approaching quickly, they seemed eager to get them as soon as possible.
I want to dive into the motel bed right now.
I never imagined I would long so desperately for a cheap mattress with springs digging into my back.
Since I had barely slept properly over the past several days, my consciousness felt hazy and my eyes kept closing.
I was struggling to remain awake while desperately waiting for the buyers to arrive when I finally heard tires scraping against the sandy ground outside the warehouse.
“Hello! Karen introduced us. We came to see the cars.”
Three well-built men climbed out of a massive Ford F-150.
Two were African American.
The third man...
Asian? Chinese? Or Japanese?
He had black hair, dark eyes, and a friendly-looking face.
“Hello. I’m Jason. The cars are over here. Feel free to inspect them.”
I greeted the three men in turn with brief handshakes.
“Oh, these really are Police Interceptors.”
“Of course they are! Karen wouldn’t introduce us to some shady listing.”
“The interiors are clean for their age too, and the windows on this one actually go down properly. Hahaha!”
The men chatted among themselves while inspecting different parts of the cars.
They seemed quite close.
“Good. This should satisfy my father.”
“Yeah, I like mine too. If you were the only one who bought one, my father would never let me hear the end of it.”
“Hahahaha!”
It was not even particularly funny, yet they slapped each other on the back and laughed until they bent over.
I knew exactly what this phenomenon was.
I had discovered it while living and working alongside other men in the Navy SEALs.
The more men gathered together, the lower their intelligence became.
There were three of them here, so perhaps five percent per person.
Their average IQ was probably down by around fifteen percent.
The fact that they were laughing this hard over something so trivial was clear proof.
“Are you both buying these for your fathers?”
Since they seemed close to making a decision, I approached and asked.
“Oh, that’s right. We’re actually all police officers. Our fathers are retired officers too. Karen’s father got that car as a gift and wouldn’t stop bragging about it. That’s how we ended up here. Hahaha!”
The Asian man answered with a hearty laugh.
So they were police officers.
No wonder they were all so well built.
“These two cars have different model years and different prices. One is $10,300, and the other is $10,000.”
A three-hundred-dollar difference could be either significant or minor depending on the person, but it might still cause unnecessary resentment, so I told them in advance.
“Oh, really? Hmm... Then should we flip a coin?”
“Fine by me. I like both cars anyway. You call it first.”
“Then I’m heads.”
“Okay. I’ll take tails.”
To my surprise, they accepted the situation immediately and quickly found a solution.
Inside an old rented warehouse in the middle of a barren desert, two grown men faced each other with serious expressions.
“Ready? I’m tossing it. One flip only.”
The third man, who was not buying either car, stood between them and flicked the coin upward.
It was, in its own way, a fair system.
Ting—
A silver quarter rose into the air.
For a moment, everyone held their breath and stared at it.
Gulp—
Strictly speaking, the result had absolutely nothing to do with me.
And yet, without realizing it, I swallowed nervously too.
Ting, trrrr—
The coin landed on the concrete warehouse floor with a clear ringing sound.
“Washington. Heads.”
“What? Isn’t that the eagle? Tails?”
Three men—
No.
At some point, all four of us, including me, were staring intently at the coin on the floor.
Everyone was completely focused.
“No. It’s Washington.”
The man serving as referee declared heads.
“Yes! Then... I’m taking the $10,300 one! My father’s car has to be the most expensive of the three!”
The winner was the Asian man.
Unexpectedly, instead of choosing the cheaper car, he selected the more expensive one.
As expected of an Asian filial son...
“Hey, don’t tell my father how much this car cost. Just say we all bought them for the same price.”
“What? What kind of nonsense is that? I just burned an extra three hundred dollars because I wanted to see you get scolded by your father.”
Ah.
So that was what this was about.
Asian filial son, canceled.
His IQ was simply lower at the moment.
While the men laughed and shoved each other by the shoulders, I began filling out the Bills of Sale.
“Please enter the buyer’s personal information here.”
“Oh, thanks.”
The two men each took a form and slowly read through it.
Their expressions, which had looked like childish high school students only moments earlier, instantly became serious.
“Hmm. The form looks fine. Here’s the payment and the paperwork.”
The African American man with thick forearms handed over his check and documents first.
Then it was the Asian man’s turn.
His name was...
Andrew Lee?
If his surname was Lee, then was he Korean?
Andrew’s pen also seemed to pause for a moment when he saw my name.
“...Jason Kwon? Are you Korean?”
He looked up at me and spoke in slightly awkward Korean.
“Uh... yes. I’m Korean. You too, Andrew?”
I answered in Korean as well.
When I was young, my family had spoken almost entirely in Korean at home.
I did not know many difficult words, but basic communication was no problem.
“Wow, daebak. What are the odds? Nice to meet you, Jason! I knew your face didn’t quite look Chinese, but you didn’t look Japanese either.”
“Nice to meet you too. Honestly, I was curious when I first saw you.”
We shook hands again.
This time, instead of the formal handshake we had exchanged earlier, we gripped each other’s hands firmly with genuine pleasure.
There were many Korean immigrants and second- or third-generation Korean Americans living in the United States.
Still, meeting one in an outlying area like this, neither Phoenix nor Tucson, was quite rare.
For me personally, I had been the only Korean student throughout elementary, middle, and high school.
“Since we met like this, you have to come to the event too, Jason!”
“What? I don’t have any police family, so attending something like that might be a little...”
Andrew was extremely outgoing.
Of course, meeting another Korean in a place like this was a pleasant surprise for me as well.
Still, an invitation to a retired-police event was a bit much.
“You’ll meet plenty of potential customers there. You just started an automotive restoration business, right? For neo-vintage cars and classics, you absolutely have to target older retired people.”
Andrew refused to give up and urged me again.
“Andrew’s right! Honestly, I’d like the four of us to have a beer together today, but as you know, we have to drive these cars home.”
The men beside him joined in.
I could not understand why they were so eager to socialize with a strange Asian man they had just met.
“Well... if you’re all insisting that strongly, then all right.”
I ended up promising to attend.
“Then we’ll see you there!”
Vroooom—
After the noisy men left, I stared at the empty warehouse and repeated the promise I had just made to myself.
“Attending an event full of strangers.”
Even after thinking about it again, I had no idea why I had agreed.
Maybe the moment I had become absorbed in their coin toss—
I too had already been caught in the group effect that lowered intelligence.