Chapter 45: The Classmate Who Drove a Lincoln
Chapter 45: The Classmate Who Drove a Lincoln
Morning at the Sterling family mansion in Paradise Valley, the wealthiest neighborhood in Arizona, always began the same way.
(Translator’s Note: Paradise Valley — An affluent municipality incorporated in Arizona in 1961. Located near Phoenix and Scottsdale, it is known for luxury residences, resorts, and high property values.)
The footsteps of servants passing through the halls, the clink of silverware, and the soft strains of classical music.
Hailey Sterling sat on the terrace attached to her second-floor bedroom, dressed in a silk robe.
In front of her sat a delicately prepared Eggs Benedict and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
“Miss, this month’s issue of Heritage Classic.”
Her personal assistant standing nearby handed her a sleek magazine.
Hailey’s eyes lit up.
As the future heir to Sterling Selection, her father’s classic-car auction company, Heritage Classic was an important indicator that helped her read the market. Of course, she also genuinely enjoyed it.
“Hmm. The Jaguar XK120’s popularity shows no sign of cooling…”
(Translator’s Note: Jaguar XK120 — A British sports car unveiled in 1948. The “120” referred to its claimed 120-mph top speed, which made it one of the fastest production automobiles of its period.)
She continued eating breakfast while reading every article, page by page, without skipping a single one.
Then her gaze stopped on a short feature titled “Independent Restorers to Watch.”
—————
[Editor’s Pick: Second Life Motors]
The classic-car restoration market is already saturated.
There are countless shops that will cover a car in gleaming chrome if you pay them enough.
Yet we still crave the real thing.
Recently, this writer encountered an unbelievable “real deal” on the quiet outskirts of Arizona.
Jason Kwon, the owner of an unheard-of restoration shop called Second Life Motors, is the man behind the Corvette C2 that shocked the industry by scoring 4,310 points and earning Single Top Flight honors on its first NCRS appearance.
.
.
.
Though this young man appears to have entered the industry only recently, he may bring a new wave to an American classic-car restoration world grown complacent…
.
.
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Senior Editor: Elena Monroe
—————
As Hailey read the magazine, the silverware in her hand slipped weakly from her fingers.
Clatter—
“Miss? Are you all right?”
Another servant quickly picked it up from the floor.
…Jason Kwon? Seriously?
Before her father’s company, Sterling Selection, grew into one of the three largest classic-car auction houses in the United States and the family moved to an affluent neighborhood, the Sterlings had lived in southern Arizona.
Back then, there had been a quiet Asian boy named Jason Kwon at her high school.
He had sharp eyes, poor social skills, and never tried to mingle with anyone.
After graduation, there had been rumors that he returned to Korea or enlisted in the military, but no one knew exactly what had happened to him.
And now he suddenly came back home as a classic-car restorer? With an NCRS score of 4,310?
Even Elena, who rarely praised anyone, had written about him in this tone.
…Heh. This could be interesting.
Of course, it was possible that he was merely someone with the same name.
But the Sterling family instinct, which became unusually sharp whenever cars were involved, was whispering to her.
This was worth taking the time to investigate.
Hailey drained the juice in her hand through the straw, then abruptly rose from her seat.
“Robert!”
She loudly called the name of her personal assistant standing right beside her.
“Cancel my entire schedule for today.”
“What? Why all of a sudden…? You’re supposed to inspect a vehicle purchase in Pennsylvania, and you have a charity gala this evening…”
“No. There’s a more important ‘lot’ I need to inspect right now. A rough stone that may turn out to be an extremely valuable gem.”
Hailey’s eyes sparkled.
“Whew… Understood.”
Her personal assistant, Robert, took out his phone without complaint and began making calls.
Having served her for many years, he knew one thing well.
Once Hailey got that look in her eyes, nothing could stop her.
Morning at the workshop began with dry air and the harsh smell of metal.
As soon as I woke, I started the day by pushing up the roll-up door at the front of the warehouse.
Rattle-rattle-rattle—
Morning sunlight poured inside, making the dust particles floating in the air glitter like gold powder.
Then a boy appeared through the beam of light.
“Noah? You’re here this early?”
“Yes! Mom had to go straight to work.”
With a large backpack over his shoulders and his shoelaces pulled tight, he looked strangely resolute.
Behind him, Rachel sat in the driver’s seat of a silver Civic.
“Good morning, Rachel!”
“Good morning, Jason. I’ll get going, then. Noah, do your best!”
Rachel waved.
The soft smile and gaze on her face were filled with affection for her son.
“Wow… Jason, you really live in a place like this?”
After seeing Rachel off, Noah entered the workshop and kept looking around with his mouth hanging open.
“Are you… making fun of me?”
“Haha, of course not. Oh! Dusty!”
“Woof! Woof!”
Dusty charged happily toward Noah, his pure white fur flying behind him.
“Hahaha, that tickles.”
Noah sat down and stroked Dusty all over while the puppy enthusiastically licked his hands.
It felt strange.
A child’s laughter now filled a workshop where, most of the time, the only sounds had been silence and clanging metal.
“Here. Take these.”
After watching them for a moment, I picked up the key ring lying on the workbench.
“One is the warehouse key. The other is the key to the car you’ll be driving.”
Noah stiffly reached out and accepted the keys.
Anyone could see how nervous he was.
“Can I really… drive this?”
“That’s why I bought it. But from now on, you’ll be responsible for maintaining and looking after it.”
Noah stared down at the key ring in his palm.
The blue emblem of the Ford Ranger parked in front of the warehouse gleamed in the sunlight.
“Don’t just stare at it. Go sit inside.”
At my words, Noah repeatedly muttered, “Wow, wow,” as he opened the truck door.
He sat in the worn seat and gripped the steering wheel with the reverence of someone climbing into an expensive supercar.
“How is it?”
“It’s incredible! Jason… I’m really going to work hard!”
Noah’s face flushed red with joy.
Seeing him reminded me of when I had bought my first car.
It was an old Corolla that cost fifteen hundred dollars.
Even so, I had been unbelievably happy simply to have a car of my own.
To Noah’s eyes, this worn truck probably looked like a treasure too.
The vehicle I chose for Noah’s commute was a 2011 Ford Ranger.
I had three criteria when selecting it.
First, it had to be a truck.
There was a good chance he would need to haul various loads in the future, not merely commute.
Second, it could not be full-size.
For Noah, who was still inexperienced behind the wheel, a full-size vehicle would be difficult to handle in many ways.
Third, it needed to be durable.
A vehicle that broke down occasionally might have been useful for teaching him maintenance, but I would have worried unnecessarily.
The 2011 Ford Ranger met all three conditions.
This third-generation Ranger was known as one of the last compact trucks, combining a practical cargo bed with a relatively small body.
Its components, including the naturally aspirated 3.0-liter engine, were simple and robust, making it easy to maintain.
With consistent preventive maintenance, it could easily last four hundred thousand miles, or roughly six hundred and forty thousand kilometers, and had earned considerable trust among actual owners.
Its popularity had risen after briefly appearing in a certain film, and prices continued to increase, but fortunately, Steven had helped me find an inexpensive one.
“Now I’ll explain the machinery and equipment inside. This concerns safety, so listen seriously.”
“Yes, sir!”
Noah shot out of the truck and stopped directly in front of me.
He looked fully prepared for battle.
“First, the lift. I’m the only one who will operate it. It may look easy, but you are never to touch it.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You are also forbidden from using any equipment that produces sparks. Do not touch the welder, plasma cutter, or high-speed cut-off saw, even out of curiosity.”
“I’ll remember that!”
Noah replied energetically, his eyes bright.
It was quite different from the awkward way he had treated me only a short while ago.
“These aren’t rules I made up. The law prohibits sixteen-year-olds from operating them. If you break this rule, you will never be allowed to work here again.”
“No using the lift, and don’t even touch equipment that makes sparks. I promise I’ll follow the rules.”
“…Good. For today, start by cleaning the floor. When you finish, you can watch me work.”
He was so much more cooperative than I had expected that I almost felt confused.
Does he really like it that much?
His expression looked incredibly cheerful as he filled a cleaning bucket with water and rinsed the mop.
“Diagonal cutters.”
The moment I called out the name of the tool, Noah hurried over to the tool cabinet, took out the correct one, and brought it to me.
“Here!”
He still confused the locations and types of tools, but he was adapting faster than I had expected.
I used the diagonal cutters he handed me to cut out the Metropolitan’s wiring.
“Jason, those wires all look fine. Why are you cutting them out?”
Noah watched my work over my shoulder from a short distance away.
The severed wires were already scattered messily around his feet.
“This is British Lucas wiring. The copper is poor quality, and it shorts easily. Trying to reuse it is like planning fireworks on a rainy day. Watch. Even now, when I turn on the lights…”
“Traffic’s backed up on I-10 near the bridge. If you’re heading east—”
It was clearly the light switch, yet a radio traffic report suddenly began playing inside the car.
“Hahaha. Anyone who saw this would think it was a haunted car.”
Noah laughed in amusement.
Even a malfunction like this seemed fascinating to him.
“This car really is pretty, though. Definitely not my taste.”
Noah admired the small, aggressively pink appearance of the Metropolitan.
“Really? Then come over here and try pressing the brake pedal. The engine still starts.”
I called Noah over and seated him inside the Metropolitan.
“How does it feel?”
“Nnngh… This thing’s like a rock. How are you supposed to drive it?”
“Right? And the person who will be driving it is a sixteen-year-old girl. That’s why I’m replacing the entire braking system.”
I jerked my chin toward the brake booster I had ordered in advance.
“We’ll need to do the additional wiring while dismantling the interior, so let’s work on the brakes today.”
I took a gleaming brake disc out of its box.
Since it had just left the factory, its surface was coated with a thin layer of oil to prevent rust.
“Here. Before installing the disc, clean off all the oil. It needs to be completely free of anything slippery.”
I handed him brake cleaner and a cloth.
“Yes. I’ll clean it perfectly.”
It was a simple task hardly different from ordinary cleaning, but Noah began wiping the disc with complete concentration.
Meanwhile, I dismantled the old drum brakes and assembled adapter brackets that allowed disc calipers to be installed on the old car.
Then I slid the disc Noah had cleaned onto the hub.
“Noah, this is a dust-shield bolt. Try tightening it. Don’t force it too hard. Stop when it feels reasonably snug.”
Noah swallowed nervously, stepped in front of me, and turned the ratchet.
“You’re doing well. Do the same for the other three wheels. I’ll work on something else in the meantime.”
I left Noah with the simple task and installed the brake booster, which used the engine’s power to assist the pressure applied to the brake pedal.
With the original single master cylinder replaced by a dual one and a booster installed, the car could now be stopped with the tip of a foot even while wearing high heels.
Whirrr—
Once the brake assembly was complete, I lowered the lift again.
Noah stood behind me with a serious expression, waiting only for my instructions.
“Now we just need to bleed the brakes. If air remains in the lines, the pedal will sink like a sponge when you press it. The car won’t stop, though.”
The process was known as bleeding the brakes, and it was quite troublesome to do alone.
“Sit inside. When I give the signal, press the brake pedal three times. On the last press, don’t lift your foot.”
“Got it!”
I connected a transparent hose to the brake caliper’s bleeder valve, then submerged the other end in a plastic bottle containing brake fluid.
“Press it.”
“One, two, three… I’m holding it down.”
Bubble, bubble—
When I opened the valve slightly, the air trapped inside escaped and formed bubbles.
“Don’t lift your foot. Keep holding it.”
I closed the valve and moved to another wheel.
We repeated the process three or four times for each wheel.
“Jason, the pedal is getting harder. It’s more difficult to press than before.”
“Yeah. That means we’re finished.”
I closed the valve on the final front wheel.
Had I been alone, I would have had to perform the job with a bleeder kit, making it far more cumbersome.
Thanks to Noah, however, it had been quick and easy.
“Did I… actually help?”
After we finished the day’s work, just before he left for home, Noah turned and asked me.
“Yeah. More than I expected.”
“Oh…”
Noah’s stiff expression instantly softened.
“But there will also be days when you aren’t helpful.”
“Huh? Ah… Yes… I suppose there will…”
His brightened face immediately turned gloomy again.
It amazed me how every emotion appeared so directly on his face.
“That’s because it’s natural. You don’t need to force yourself to do well. Take your time, and before you know it, you’ll be doing your share.”
“Hmm… I see. Got it! Then I’ll come again the day after tomorrow!”
“Okay. Drive carefully.”
I watched until Noah and the Ford Ranger disappeared from view.
But almost the instant the Ranger’s red taillights vanished, a pair of yellow headlights turned in my direction.
Who is that?
There was no reason for anyone to come this way unless they were visiting my warehouse.
Screech—
The headlights belonged to an older Lincoln Continental.
Click—
The Continental stopped in front of the warehouse, and its door opened.
A young blonde woman stepped out.
Her heels clicked sharply as she walked over and stopped in front of me.
Then she lowered her sunglasses halfway and exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.
“Wow? It really is Jason.”