Jace walked toward a row of engines.
“There must be at least ten of these.” Jace said.
“Some of them are probably rebuildable.” Ethan said and I smiled despite myself.
“That sounds exactly like Uncle Will.” I said.
Ethan opened another crate, and inside were old tools arranged in neat rows.
Wrenches, sockets and torque tools.
Specialty motorcycle tools that I had not seen since I was a teenager.
I reached down and picked up one of the old wrenches. I remembered Uncle Will putting it into my hand during one of my first serious repairs.
He had stood behind me, watching carefully while I struggled with a stubborn bolt.
He had told me that a good mechanic needed patience because forcing something usually made the problem worse and I swallowed hard.
“He kept everything.” I said as Jac
