The Mechanic's Fix 1 Read online

  The

  Mechanic’s

  Fix

  Daniel Elijah Sanderfer

  Copyright 2020. Blue Cottage Publishing, William H. Sanderfer, CEO. No portion of this manuscript may be used or reproduced without permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  This book is dedicated to my late uncle Jimmy Murphy who passed away from AIDS in the early 1990’s. I wish I would have been old enough to have known you. You always looked so happy and well even when I knew you weren’t.

  CHAPTER ONE

  A Chance Meeting

  You would think at this point in my life that I would have it all figured out; that I would have unlocked all the mysteries to life. That I would have the world eating from the palm of my hand, but I haven’t. Hi, I’m Leo and lately things haven’t been going the way I planned they would. It seems nothing ever does and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that this is as good as it gets.

  I work for a food delivery app and rent a room by the week in an old Victorian house on the east side of a small Indiana town named New Albany. It’s an historic town and the house is a grand old house painted creamsicle orange and has a porch painted a slightly darker orange that stretches across the front of it. When it’s warm, you can find Martha there; she’s the sweet old lady who owns the place.

  She’s a widow who often regales the tales of her youth to anyone who will listen; mainly me as I come and go throughout the day. She’s kind of taken on the role of an adopted grandmother to me. It’s nice since I can’t remember either of my biological grandparents; they passed away when I was just a little kid so I was never able to enjoy the benefits of having someone older and wiser to tell me stories like Martha does. My mom and dad used to live here but now they live in Panama City, Florida. Mom always hated the cold and once they retired, dad was finally able to make her dreams come true. So, they sold the house I grew up in and moved away.

  Originally, I’d planned to move down there with them but I decided to stay here in Indiana instead so I could get my nursing degree. I’ve always wanted to feel needed; to do the most good I can by taking care of people. But I quickly found out that it wasn’t the best career choice for me and my teachers agreed. You see, I have a little problem, okay, a big problem; I’m extremely accident prone. It’s not funny!

  I’m that person in the cartoon that could walk into an open manhole if the opportunity presented itself. In nursing school, I was always tripping over things, mislabeling things, and one time during CPR training I hyperventilated while trying to give the dummy CPR. So how am I supposed to take care of other people when I can barely take care of myself?

  It’s not the first time I tried to make a go of a career. I’ve worked at gas stations, restaurants, retail stores, you name it, and all of them turned out the same way. After the manager made sure I was okay and didn’t hurt myself they promptly fired me and said I was safety risk. My dad always did say I was a danger to society.

  I guess that’s why I keep to myself and try to stay out of trouble. Don’t get me wrong, just because I try to stay out of trouble doesn’t mean trouble doesn’t come looking for me. It’s probably why I haven’t pursued a meaningful relationship with anyone out of fear that I will end up hurting them in more ways than one. It’s also the reason I’m twenty-four and still a virgin.

  It’s not a label I carry proudly and I’ve even made several tries at it. Out of desperation, I installed a hook-up app on my phone and met a couple of guys for a sexual rendezvous; they all turned out to be disasters. For instance, there was this one guy, we’ll call him Mike. He was a smoking hot daddy who I met down by the river. The plan was for it to be a quick blow and go but since I’d never sucked a dick before and I only had the porn videos I had watched to go on I didn’t know quite how to do it. After a few scrapes of my teeth to his penis he stopped me, told me I was cute, and ended our encounter.

  He got off easy compared to the other ones. One guy was kneed in the balls when we tried to change positions. Needless to say, that encounter ended abruptly with me profusely apologizing. He assured me he was okay, but it totally destroyed the mood. Sigh, maybe one day I’ll meet a guy who will think I’m worth the risk, but until then I’ll just keep delivering people’s meals and trying to stay safe.

  It’s a brand-new year, 2020, I must say that I’m a little disappointed that we don’t have flying cars by now. I managed to stay busy during the holidays to avoid the fact I didn’t have enough money to travel to Florida and visit my folks for Christmas. But, I did have a merry little Christmas here with Martha; she knitted me a scarf with a matching hat which I wear all the time despite the fact some people stare and laugh at me. It’s a hodge podge of colors she had left over from other projects, but I think that makes it more special because it could never be duplicated.

  I guess I’m drawn to unusual things; the rejects, those weird little trinkets that nobody wants, kind of like my car. It’s a little four hatchback that looks like a granny car. It was mom and dad’s before they bought a new one. I didn’t mind getting a hand me down car. I was just happy to have something with wheels that would get me around town.

  I’m not very good at car maintenance much to my dad’s chagrin. Before he retired, he was a mechanic but he sold the shop to a nice man named William who is around his age. Dad told me if I ever needed anything done to the car that I should just stop into his shop and have him take a look at it. But I haven’t done that yet.

  They used to work together a long time ago at another repair shop before my dad went solo and opened his own business. But despite dad’s advice I’ve been ignoring all the little warning lights on the dash because I can’t afford any extra expenses right now.

  It was a particularly busy day with deliveries and I found myself on the far side of the county away from where I normally deliver. Business has been really good lately and I don’t mind driving a little further out of my way if the base pay for a particular job is good. I quickly learned that my choice to venture out of my normal zone may have been a bad call. The car had been making a grinding sound, much like screws in a blender.

  I’m no car expert but I can assume that sounds like that are bad, very bad. Thankfully, I remembered my dad’s old shop wasn’t far from where I was, but I had no idea if the man dad sold it to was still the owner. I had no choice; I had to stop to see what the problem was. Why me? I whined as I pulled off the highway and into the lot of Billy’s Automotive.

  I hardly recognized the beat-up old building that used to be Menke’s Auto Repair. Dad was never much for fancy signs or anything; he had built a reputation as a good man and a huge client list that trusted his work, so he didn’t feel the need make anything flashy.

  Mom and I thought he should have painted it a nice color or something to attract new business but dad would just wave in dismissal and say, “It’s a garage, not a fancy restaurant. People come here to get an oil change not to socialize.”

  Now, this Billy had painted it a sleek red and black with racing flags on the side. A cool old antique car sits parked nearby the main entrance and is filled with colorful flowers. I couldn’t help but think it was an interesting combination of beauty meets grit. As I made my way to the door, my mind temporarily wondered who would come up with such a neat idea; probably his wife or something.

  I never know how to act in a place like this. Even though my dad ran a repair shop for years I never really went inside that often. It’s not really a good place for a clumsy boy like me to be. I can just picture myself walking along and slipping on one of the creepers the technicians use to slide under the car with or falling into the service pit where the guys go to change the oil in the cars.

&
nbsp; As I stepped into the building I was greeted by the smell of new tires. The waiting room was bright with cool couches made out of old truck beds. A few plastic plants set coyly around to break up the cold atmosphere. At the counter, a scruffy muscle man with a black beard and mustache was talking to someone on the phone with a furrowed brow. My eyes danced nervously around the waiting room before wandering back his direction.

  I couldn’t help but notice the way his bicep bulged as held the phone up to his ear and the way his jumpsuit hugged his pecs. A gray name patch affixed to the fabric read, Billy. I blushed a little and my eyes fell to the floor as I waited for him to finish his call. I was so nervous at this point I’d forgotten to turn my gaze back to him so I could see when he was off the phone. Apparently I didn’t need to because a minute later he shouted at me; his voice was deep and gruff, “What do you need kid?”

  I jumped and grabbed a nearby rack of windshield wipers in an attempt to stabilize myself. Note to self, never grab a small metal rack to try and keep yourself from falling. I tumbled to the floor along with half of the display. A few moments later I was lying on my back. I slowly opened my eyes, no pain thankfully. As I looked up I could see that scruffy scrunched face staring down at me with a half-grin. His hands were on his hips and his big brown eyes were searing into my soul.

  He shook his head and held out his hand, “You okay kiddo?”

  Words eluded me. From this angle I could see the bulge of his cock outlined in his jumpsuit. I could have laid there all day with him hovering over me like some kind of angelic grease monkey. I was still a little out of it from the fall anyways and I could feel a dreamy smile form on my lips.

  He crouched down as I sat up and placed his hand on my back. Was I really this small or was his hand just that big? It nearly covered the entire small of my back. His other hand was gripping mine and as I glanced at them I could see his grease covered hand covering mine entirely. In a low soft growl, he crooned, “You alright?”

  I nodded silently, “Mm hmm,” then he helped me to my feet. I proceeded to apologize profusely for knocking over his display rack, but he just smiled and silently gathered the wipers up before setting them on the front counter. As he did, I set the rack back up and stooped to pick up one blade he missed. As I did, he reached for the same one and our hands touched again. I could feel my heart knocking like a car with engine trouble.

  Something about his touch was electric. I’d never felt this way before. We shared a laugh as I let him pick up the last pack of wiper blades. He turned again to set them on the counter and when he turned back to me he sighed, “Now, what can I help you with?”

  I hesitated for a moment, “Um, um…”

  My words were still eluding me but he just patiently waited for them to come. Finally, I mumbled, “My car started making a grinding noise and I’m not sure what’s wrong?”

  He blinked a couple of times before smiling and saying, “Well, grinding noises are never a good sign. Where is the sound coming from?”

  “I think it’s coming from the engine,” I replied.

  Without missing a beat, he said, “Got the keys?”

  I nodded and pulled them from the pocket of my cargo pants. He took them from me and paused as he gazed at the purple glittery heart keychain I had them on. I lowered my eyes to the floor as he said, “Let’s go take a look.”

  I followed him like a puppy out to the parking lot. Dare I check him out further? I permitted my eyes to steal a peek at his butt. Peas and gravy that jumpsuit was tight. They were holding his perfectly round cheeks and leaving little to the imagination. Dear God, is that a jockstrap outline? My eyes widened and I caught my breath in my throat as he unlocked the car and settled into the driver’s seat.

  He had to duck down to avoid hitting his head. He cranked the car and turned his head as if he was listening for something. Then he pressed the accelerator a few times. There it was; that grinding sound. He turned the car off and repeated the steps before shutting the engine off again. Then he popped the hood and got out.

  I wasn’t sure what to do so I just watched him with a nervous expression as he opened the hood and glanced around inside the engine. Next, he pulled the dipstick to check the oil. Using his fingers, he wiped the tip clean and I felt a sudden twinge inside my pants watching him do it.

  He stuck it back in and pulled it out once more. This time he scowled and turned to me. “Do you know how to check your oil kid?”

  I bit my bottom lip and glanced away. He rolled his jaw, “I’ll take that as a no.”

  I could feel his eyes still on me. He was making my knees buckle and my insides squirm as he barked, “When was the last time you had an oil change?”

  I squeaked, “Sometime last summer?”

  He made a sound, almost like a growl through his nose, “You’re about three and half quarts low on oil and this little car only holds about four.”

  I replied, “Ah,” as if I knew what he was talking about.

  He left the dipstick on top of the engine, walked toward one of the bays of the garage and emerged with a few black bottles. Silence lingered in the air around us as he poured them in. Then, he shoved the dipstick back in and squinted as he read it. “Still a quart low!”

  He shook his head, went back inside once more and emerged again with another bottle. This time when he was finished he glanced at me and jerked his head, “Come here!”

  I stood next to him with my arms crossed as he held up the dipstick, “You see that line right there?”

  “Uh-huh,” I replied meekly.

  “That’s where your oil level is supposed to be.”

  I met his gaze as he continued, “Son, the reason your engine was making that grinding sound was because it had barely any lubrication. You could have locked up the whole thing and then you would have had to buy a new car!”

  I was properly chastised and looked like a puppy that had just been whooped for pooping in the floor. He shoved the dipstick back in, wiped his hands on the legs of his jumpsuit, then closed the hood before going to start the car again. This time, once he had started the car and pressed the accelerator I noticed a significant decrease in the grinding sound.

  He left it running as he got out, then he handed me the key fob. “Now, as the oil lubricates the engine the grinding sound should go away but you should really check your oil and keep it changed.”

  I gazed up at him, “I will. Thank you so much for your help.”

  He winked and began walking back towards the office. I shouted, “Wait! How much do I owe you?”

  He shook his head and grinned again, “Nothin cutie, just drive safe.”

  I could feel my face sear with blush. Did this big burly mechanic just make a pass at me, even after I made a total fool of myself in his shop? I guess that answers my earlier question about there being a wife. I could barely walk as I got back in the car and shifted into drive.

  I decided after my little encounter I would just go home and settle in for the night. I wasn’t sure yet whether I was going to tell Martha about mechanic daddy but part of me was dying to tell somebody.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Upon Further Inspection

  A few weeks had passed since I had officially met Billy or as I like to call him, mechanic daddy. I’d found myself fantasizing about him at night before going to sleep. He’d become the reason I’d have to wait before getting out of my car to make a delivery because I was just so turned on by the prospect of feeling those big strong hands touching me again.

  I’m a runner. Often times I get up as the sun is rising to go for my morning jog through the neighborhood. It’s my favorite time of the day. I love seeing the sun as it paints majestic colors through the dissipating night clouds and the way the dew lingers in the air is so refreshing. When I’m running, I’m free; I feel at one with the earth and my body as I push it to its limits.

  This particular morning, I had noticed my shoe was untied and to avoid a mishap I figured I better tie it, lest I trip an
d get a face full of sidewalk. I’m usually lost in my music so I don’t really pay any attention to the cars on the road because I’m on the sidewalk, but as I stooped down to tie my shoe I noticed a huge pickup truck pull up to the curb.

  I was trying to avoid making eye contact because out here where I live people can be small-minded and prejudiced. The last thing I needed to deal with first thing in the morning was a heckler so I kept my attention focused on my shoe.

  I got a little more nervous as I caught the window of the massive truck rolling down from the corner of my eye. “Woof!”

  I jumped up and shrieked. My hands folded over my mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound. As I turned to see who it was, low and behold, it was the object of my obsession and fantasies; mechanic daddy.

  He let out a hearty chuckle and shouted, “Nice shorts cutie,” before rolling up the window and driving away. I was clutching my chest; it felt as if my heart was going to bust out and chase after him. Then I saw it, pasted to the back of his rear window. I’d seen the flag many times before online and at my local pride parade; the bear pride flag. I wanted to melt into the sidewalk; he’s gay!

  It was hard to get motivated to keep running after that. I felt like butterflies had just erupted in my stomach and their little wings were tickling me. I was as giggly and smiley as a high school girl as I turned the corner of the street and made my way back to the house.

  Martha was sitting on the porch knitting. “What’s got you smiling so big this morning?” She asked as I stepped up on the porch.

  I rubbed my elbow and traced the porch board with my foot. I had opted not to tell her about mechanic daddy after the initial meeting because I wasn’t sure if anything would transpire from our little moment. But, it was no coincidence that I would see him again. All I could assume was that he must have been on his way to work this early in the morning.