The morning started with the sound of an engine coughing to life. I looked up from the work order I was reading and immediately knew something was different, because the sound coming from the far end of the workshop wasn't the rough, uneven noise of a damaged motorcycle.
It was an engine that had finally found its rhythm and I set the clipboard down and walked toward the service bay.
Ben stood beside the motorcycle with both hands covered in grease and his expression looked like someone had just handed him the keys to the world.
"Did you do it?" I asked.
He turned toward me with the biggest grin I'd seen on his face.
"I did it." He said.
I stepped closer and listened as the engine settled into a smooth idle.
Ben had spent most of the past week rebuilding it under my supervision and
