Chapter 76: Three Days Before Thanksgiving
“The list has gotten pretty long now.”
Inside the elevator descending to the underground inspection center at Sterling Selection headquarters, I spoke while flipping through the list of restoration vehicles Hailey had given me.
Even though it was nothing more than a list, it ran to more than three pages.
“Hehe, you’ll be even more surprised when you see the inspection center.”
Ding—
Just then, the elevator stopped, and the heavy steel doors slid open.
I had grown accustomed to the cool underground air that swept in and the bright lights pouring down from above.
“Director Hailey. Jason! Welcome.”
Douglas, the elderly gentleman with thick glasses, greeted us at the entrance to the center.
“Hello, Douglas. I heard you became the director overseeing the entire inspection center. Congratulations.”
“Hohoho, thank you. It’s all thanks to Director Hailey here—and to you as well.”
Douglas gave an awkward smile. Instead of his former white work uniform, he was wearing dark navy coveralls with a gold nameplate.
“In any case, come inside. There are more than a few cars I want to show you.”
Beaming, Douglas hurriedly led me in.
It was an expression I could hardly have imagined on the stern-looking man I had first met.
The moment I entered the inspection center, I understood why he was as excited as a child.
The equipment has improved tremendously.
For one thing, the number of inspection bays had at least doubled, and the center was now equipped with a portable X-ray scanner and a 3D laser alignment-measurement system.
“What’s that? I’ve never seen equipment like it before.”
I pointed to a large tunnel-like machine standing off to one side.
“Hoho, that’s an underbody scanning tunnel. They really do make everything these days.”
Looking inside, I saw two parallel rails on the floor, with countless lenses resembling camera modules embedded between them.
“When a vehicle passes through here, it produces complete data on everything from play in the suspension to traces of oil or fluid leaks. Personally, I still trust people more than machines like this.”
Douglas glanced cautiously at Hailey as he spoke.
I agreed with him.
Nor did equipment like this make me feel particularly threatened.
It still can’t completely replace the subtle instincts of an experienced person.
Still, it clearly seemed useful in terms of speed and efficiency.
“Oh? I agree too. Machines only play a supporting role. Which is why I’d like you to take two of the most difficult cars here, Jason.”
Hailey gestured toward the dozens of vehicles lined up behind her.
Under our strengthened strategic partnership, I had agreed to accept at least four vehicles per quarter, although the number had been temporarily reduced depending on circumstances until my expansion was complete.
I slowly walked between the rows of cars, carefully examining their models, years, and conditions one by one.
Triumph, Wolseley, Lancia, Hillman, Amphicar, and more.
The vehicles awaiting restoration came from manufacturers whose older models had rarely been seen before and whose names would be unfamiliar to most ordinary people.
“Hmm. Then I’ll take this Citroën DS and the Austin-Morris Mini with the John Cooper tune. I’ll start with the Mini.”
(Translator’s Note: Citroën DS — A French executive car unveiled at the Paris Motor Show in 1955. Designed with futuristic bodywork and an advanced integrated hydraulic system, it became one of the most technically and visually distinctive cars of the twentieth century.)
(Translator’s Note: John Cooper — A British racing engineer and team owner whose rear-engine cars helped transform Formula One. His performance modifications to the Mini produced the Mini Cooper and Mini Cooper S.)
Among them, I selected the cars with difficult parts availability, troublesome restoration requirements, and, finally, high potential value after restoration.
“An excellent choice. Machines could never manage something like that.”
Douglas puffed out his chest beside me.
“Good. Then I’ll place the Citroën in the waiting group and have the Mini sent directly to your shop.”
Hailey made a note on the tablet she always carried.
“Oh, and Dad told me. You agreed to a long-term lease on land in southern Arizona, right? Congratulations. Now we’ll be able to work together for at least forty years. Hehehe.”
“You chose another unusual car this time. This isn’t just an ordinary Mini, is it?”
Peter, the vehicle transporter, spoke as he unloaded the Austin-Morris Mini from the enormous trailer.
He was Sterling’s dedicated transporter for southern Arizona, and because he had hauled so many cars like these, he had developed a respectable knowledge of classic vehicles.
“Haha, no. It’s an S version personally worked on by John Cooper in 1962.”
“Wow, a John Cooper from the sixties. I’m looking forward to seeing it finished. I’ll see you again when it’s done. Take care!”
Rattle, vroom—
After Peter left, I used vehicle dollies attached to each wheel to push the car into the restoration shop.
The Austin-Morris Mini, the original predecessor of the modern Mini, was only around ten feet—roughly three meters—long, so there was still plenty of room even after bringing it inside.
Let’s see how much trouble this one is going to give me.
I slowly circled the vividly red body, which was covered with Union Jack stickers and multiple round rally lights.
—————
[1962 Austin-Morris Mini Cooper S]
Exterior: C
└ Paint Match: 0% — Complete old repaint
└ Floor panel corrosion damage
Interior: C+
└ Damage to seats, carpet, and door panels
Wiring: F
└ Hardened insulation, poor folding and routing, risk of short circuit
Engine/Transmission: D
└ Blow-by gas
└ Faulty second-to-third gear synchronizer
└ Water-pump leak
└ Faulty distributor vacuum advance
—————
As expected of an old British car, the Mini’s condition could not be called good even as empty flattery.
Then again, if you want to drive a Mini, you have to accept this much. And this one is a tuned version on top of that.
Before Mini was acquired by BMW, it had been a bestseller of the British Motor Corporation, formed through the merger of Austin and Morris.
(Translator’s Note: British Motor Corporation — A British automobile company formed in 1952 through the merger of Austin and Morris. It produced the original Mini.)
Aside from its adorable design, it offered agile cornering thanks to a suspension that used rubber instead of conventional springs.
It was loved by everyone from poor university students to members of the British royal family. Queen Elizabeth II herself had even ridden in one.
Surprisingly, however, the original Mini had not been designed with high performance in mind. Its concept was that of a practical car for grocery shopping.
Its later history changed dramatically after it caught the eye of the brilliant engineer John Cooper.
John Cooper had directly rejected Enzo Ferrari’s philosophy that “the engine should be in front, just as the horse pulls the carriage,” and instead placed the engine behind the driver in a mid-engine layout.
(Translator’s Note: Enzo Ferrari — An Italian racing driver and entrepreneur who founded Ferrari. The chapter contrasts his association with traditional front-engine design with John Cooper’s successful rear-engine racing cars.)
With that design, his team won the Formula One championship in both 1959 and 1960.
Recognizing the potential of the humble shopping car, Cooper modified its engine, transmission, brakes, and other systems to create what became known as the Mini Cooper.
With that car, the team went on to defeat much larger and more powerful vehicles and claim three victories at the Monte Carlo Rally during the 1960s.
(Translator’s Note: Monte Carlo Rally — A prestigious rally first held in 1911 and centered on Monaco. The Mini Cooper S famously won in 1964, 1965, and 1967, establishing the small car’s international competition reputation.)
The impression those victories left was so powerful that, more than sixty years later, John Cooper Works—JCW—was still used as the name of Mini’s high-performance models.
For a restorer, though, parts are difficult to source and repairs are troublesome.
As an Formula One engineer, John Cooper placed great importance on high engine speeds and balance.
In particular, original precision-machined cylinder heads were almost impossible to find.
That was exactly why restoring this car held even greater meaning for me.
Hailey had given me plenty of time for the restoration, so I began by slowly compiling a list of the parts I would need.
Bzzzz—
The phone in my back pocket vibrated.
“Hello, Bill? Don’t tell me the building design is already finished.”
I answered eagerly, full of anticipation.
“Jason...”
But Bill’s reply nearly made me drop the phone.
It was late November, three days before Thanksgiving.
My mentor, Donnelly, had passed away.
Vroooooom—
I pressed the Chevy truck’s accelerator as though I meant to break it.
The drive normally took only thirty minutes, but the road to Donnelly’s house felt impossibly long.
“Damn it...”
Every time I was stopped by a traffic light, I struck the steering wheel with my fist.
This anxiety was different from what I had felt inside a Humvee on the way to an operation during my military days.
Back then, it had felt as though I were racing toward death.
Now, I desperately wanted to deny a death that had already arrived.
Bang—
I threw open the unlocked front door and entered.
An unpleasant silence closed around me.
“Jason...”
Bill recognized me and rose from the sofa.
“When... How...?”
I barely forced the words from my throat.
A visiting nurse I recognized approached and answered in his place.
“At 2:21 p.m. He passed peacefully, without pain...”
Forcing my unresponsive legs to move, I headed toward the main bedroom where Donnelly’s bed stood.
Creak—
“Ah...”
Donnelly lay neatly on the bed beneath a white sheet.
He looked so natural that it seemed as though he were merely asleep.
I slowly approached the head of the bed.
Sunlight streamed through the window and illuminated his face.
He looked peaceful.
But he did not open his eyes and look at me.
He did not open his mouth and tell me to come in.
I took hold of the hand resting outside the sheet.
All warmth was gone. Donnelly’s cold hand was still faintly stained with grease.
“Donnelly...”
The moment I saw it, the tears I had been holding back burst free.
I could almost hear Donnelly nagging me to wash my hands properly.
That warm voice I would never hear again.
When someone died at home while receiving end-of-life care, the funeral procedures could proceed quietly without the police visiting or the body being taken to a hospital.
In Donnelly’s case, because a visiting nurse had been present, all the necessary procedures at the house were completed once she contacted the medical examiner.
The next step was for the funeral home’s transport vehicle to take the deceased away.
However, they were waiting because Donnelly’s daughter, Susan, had not yet arrived.
She had begged them not to move her father before she could see him.
“She just landed at the airport, so she should be here soon.”
Bill approached me and placed a blanket around my shoulders.
At some point, the sun had set, and a cold chill had settled inside the house.
Click—
He switched on the small lamp on the bedside table.
The orange light instantly pushed back the darkness in the room.
It was the bulb I had replaced the previous week.
Ever since arriving, I had not moved a single step and had continued holding Donnelly’s hand.
Bill watched me but said nothing.
A short while later, I heard a car stop in the driveway.
The front door opened, and hurried footsteps filled the house.
“Dad... Dad...!”
Susan’s eyes, so much like Donnelly’s, were already red and bloodshot.
The moment she saw her father on the bed, she collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
A man who appeared to be her husband entered behind her, followed by a young girl who seemed to be their daughter.
“Grandpa...!”
The tear-covered child tried to throw herself onto the bed, but the man lifted her into his arms and held her back.
The room that had been silent moments earlier was suddenly filled with anguished sobbing.
Only then did I slowly release Donnelly’s hand.
This was no longer my place.
Not wanting to intrude on their grief, I quietly left the room.
I approached Bill, who sat blankly on the living room sofa.
Forcing my choked voice to work, I spoke.
“...Bill, please tell Susan that I want to pay all the funeral expenses.”
“Jason...”
“She may refuse... but please convince her.”
I left the house before hearing his answer.
Procedurally, it would take at least three days before the formal funeral could be held.
During that time, Susan would notify people of his death, and the funeral home would prepare the coffin and chapel.
There was nothing I could do as someone who was not family.
“Jason...? You’re Jason Kwon... right?”
Just as I gripped the cold handle of my truck door, someone called to me from behind.
When I turned around, Susan stood there with tears streaking both cheeks.
She slowly approached and clasped my limp hand tightly between both of hers.
“My father told me so much about you. He said the last few months of his life were so joyful because of you, Jason. Thank you... truly.”
Fresh tears spilled from her eyes.
“...”
I could not answer.
My vision kept blurring.
“So... I would like you to take part in the funeral not as an outsider, but as family.”
At her words, the tips of my fingers trembled faintly within her grasp.
“Would it... really be all right for me to do that...?”
Family carried a special meaning in the United States.
At funerals, even more so.
No matter how much I wanted to participate, without the bereaved family’s permission, I could do no more than offer formal condolences.
Susan gave me a faint smile through her tears and tightened her grip on my hand.
“Yes. Please. I believe my father would have wanted that too.”
I lowered my head.
One by one, tear stains appeared on the driveway of Donnelly’s house.