Sunbeam II

by Admiral Biscuit

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Human, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other
Length: 2625

Girls are the unicorns of the automotive world. Kat goes one step further; she's a literal unicorn.

Long days at the shop are made at least somewhat more bearable by friendly voices on the phone, and Kat is no exception. That she’s far more competent than most parts people is the cherry on top.

We work on fleet trucks, mostly, and a few company cars and favors for the boss cars. So when Kat called and wanted me to look at her car, I didn’t know what to expect.

It wasn’t what I was expecting.

Now with a reading by StraightToThePointStudio!

Published 2021-04-24 04:30:03 UTC
Last updated 2021-04-24 04:30:03 UTC

Alpine Mk. IV

Sunbeam II
Admiral Biscuit

I glanced up at the clock, our faithful Monroe clock that we’d been given for selling a bunch of shock absorbers and struts during a promotion. Five o’ clock, quitting time.

Except when it wasn’t.

Jayson was back in the shop, buttoning up a GMC that we really needed to get done, both because the customer kept calling asking when it would be ready, and because it was occupying our best hoist, the only one that could lift it. Fuel lines and brake lines and everything that went with that, the entire thing was a horrorshow of rust from front to back. I’d padded out the labor time as much as I thought I could get away with, and it still hadn’t been enough. The only thing that had gone right on the truck was the fuel cooler; it had been so rusted it crumbled and fell off when Jayson put his impact on the first bolt.

We also had a new apprentice who was on his last week’s grace as far as I was concerned. It wasn’t that he was young and didn’t know what he was doing, that was to be expected. It was that he didn’t listen and then he lied. I’d already told the boss, more than once, and he’d already had his one and only ‘come to Jesus’ meeting.

Five o’ one. Kody, the new kid, stuck his head in the door. “Hey, uh, if you don’t mind, I’ve got, I’m supposed to be at a birthday party.”

What did he break? “Alright, get out of here.” I’d find out, and it might be better for both of us if he wasn’t around when I did.

The phone jangled, and I instinctively answered it. “DeMars Electric, this is Dennis.”

“Hey, Dennis, still at it?”

“Yeah, Kevin, what’d you break this time?”

There was a hearty laugh on the other end of the phone. “Well, I ran over a nail. Inside dual.”

“Of course it was.”

“Think it was a nail, anyway, roofers have been slinging them all around. I’ve been parking on the street. Well, turns out that I didn’t know it was flat until the tread came off.”

“So we’re not patching that one.”

“No, but that’s not the bad news.”

“Body damage?”

“Not so much.” I heard a thump, like a fist on steel. “These Reading bodies are tough. Just scuffed the paint. Oh, and took out a bunch of wires that are important on the frame.”

“How important?”

“Stalled and won’t restart.” Kevin laughed again. “I’ve got a wrecker on the way, how long you going to be at the shop?”

“We closed five minutes ago,” I told him.

“Got it. I’ll leave the keys above the visor, not like anyone can steal it. Good luck.”

“Yeah, thanks, you too.” Just what I needed, another dead truck in the lot. Probably took out the wiring for the fuel pump. That was supposed to be inside the frame rail and protected, but a flap of tread might manage to hit it.

Five thirty, and the phone had finally given me a minute of peace. The wrecker still hadn’t shown up, which was just as well. I locked the front door and turned off the office lights, then went into the shop to see how Jayson was coming along.

“Ten more minutes, boss.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He stepped out from under the truck and wiped some diesel off his hands. “Brakes are done and bled, I’ve got the lines routed, just putting them in the clips and then it’s a matter of priming the fuel system and we’ll be good to go.”

“You never give me good news unless there’s bad news.”

Jayson cocked his head over to the other bay, where a half-finished Ford sat on the hoist. It looked like Kody had made good progress, the front brakes were assembled and one of the wheels was on.

“Shake it,” Jayson suggested, then returned under his truck to finish his work.

Did he not preload the bearings? It felt not exactly all right, but not too loose. I gave the wheel a spin, wincing as I heard the rotor grinding against the caliper bracket.

I wasn’t going to let Jayson completely spoil the surprise, so I took a good look at the other side to figure out what he’d done, or hadn’t. Kody’s channel locks were still on the hoist arm, and I used them to rock the dust cover off. Nut on, castle washer over it, cotter pin in, it looked okay.

And then I saw the old rotors, grease seal still in them, which meant so was the inner bearing.

The cordless phone was in my pocket, just in case, and I considered calling him and telling him just what I thought about doing half a brake job, then I had a better idea.

“I’m going to put this back together the right way and ship it,” I decided. “See what he says tomorrow when it’s not here.”

“Put the grease seals back in the rotors so he doesn’t know.”

“I’ll go one better, we’ve still got those scrap inners from Craig’s truck, he won’t know the difference.”

Jayson’s ten minute estimate was off; the plastic bleeder screw broke off in the filter housing and he had to pick it out. Fortunately, we stocked replacements, and I was just buttoning up the Ford when the GMC rumbled to life.

“Smells like success.”

“You sure? There’s a big puddle under it.”

“No there isn’t.” But Jayson leaned down and checked anyway, then gave me the finger.

“One more favor,” I told him, pointing to the Ford. “Run that around the block and make sure it’s good.”

“Ten-four.” He hopped in the truck and I hit the door button.

A successful day, and only an hour of overtime. Even more successful if lying about this mistake was what got Kody fired.

Jayson had just pulled back in when the phone rang. Well past closing time, I was under no obligation to answer, but it might be the driver of the Ford, and I really wanted him to pick up his truck before Kody came in tomorrow. “DeMars Electric, this is Dennis.”

“Hi, Dennis!” A voice I knew well, one that almost never called me. “Hey, why are you still at the shop? Don’t you close at five?”

“Hi, Kat.” I couldn’t help myself, I was already grinning. She had that effect on me. “You know how it goes.”

“I’m galloping out the door at five,” she admitted. “Before they find just one more thing for me to do.”

“It was an important mission,” I assured her. “I’m the boss so I know these things.”

I could almost hear her sticking her tongue out before she spoke again. “So if you’re still at the shop, you wanna take a look at my car?”

“Your car?”

“Yeah. Take a look at it, maybe ride in it.”

“Well, we’re not—” I didn’t want to let her down. “Are you close?”

“A few minutes, I just had to make a stop but I can be there soon.”

“Okay, yeah. Do I need to hold on to Jayson?”

“He’s still there?”

“Yeah, it’s a long story.”

“Do I need to be your hero again?”

“You’re my hero every day.” There was a long enough pause that I thought I’d said something wrong. “Kat?”

“You’re so sweet, even when you try to hide it.” She giggled. “Just you, okay?”

The first time I’d met her had been a complete surprise. Women in the automotive world were rare enough, and her voice and cheerful disposition were always a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stressful day. And she was competent, far more than Bryce at Auto Value, and the prices were competitive enough we’d switched to Tonawanda Auto and Truck Supply as our primary supplier, which had earned me her direct line.

Now that I knew she was actually a unicorn named Sunbeam, I didn’t think she had any more surprises up her sleeve, or wherever unicorns hid surprises.

Of course, I was entirely wrong.

The last time I’d seen her, she’d been driving a beat-up Caliber with a missing hubcap. This time, she arrived in a sleek yellow British convertible. I didn’t know my classic British cars, but it reminded me of a Triumph.

I waved through the office window, but didn’t remember until she knocked on the front door that I’d locked it an hour ago.

“How’s business?” she asked as soon as she stepped through the door. “I bet I know.”

“I bet you do.”

She glanced over at the Delco box on my shelf, the one the fuel cooler had come in. “You cheating on me?”

“Catalog says you don’t stock fuel coolers.”

“If they’re available aftermarket, we could. You gotta call me and tell me parts you can’t get,” she said. “Maybe I can find a way to get them. Mind if I use your computer for a second?”

“Sure.”

Watching her use the computer was weird. She moused with a hoof, but used her horn to type, each key briefly glowing in turn.

She’d never told me how she used the computer, although I’d heard the rapidfire clicks on her end and wondered. Now I knew, and it was honestly kind of freaky, like the computer was possessed.

“Hmm, Dorman’s got one, sixty dollars cheaper than the AC Delco.” She switched between the tabs. “Doesn’t show inlet and outlet pipes in the picture, what happened to the old one?”

“Rusted off.”

“Not much use if it hasn’t got them, then,” she decided. “Might be in the box and you gotta screw them in yourself, I’ll get one and see.” A moment later, a cell phone floated in front of the screen and snapped a pic. “It’s a Dorman so we can list it and sell it even if it’s crap, someone will want to buy it. I’ll just take a look when it comes in, I’m friends with all the parts guys.”

I wanted to ask her where the phone had come from, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Some things were best left a mystery.

“So you wanted me to look at your car?”

Kat nodded, and pointed out the window. “I thought you’d like it.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, really.” She frowned. “It’s old, and there’s still some stuff that needs to be done, but it’s mostly done. Got it back from the tinbasher a week ago, got some paintwork done on it, and picked it up today. You want to go for a ride?”

“I’d love to. What kind of car is it?”

“A Sunbeam, would you believe?”

“No.”

“1965 Alpine Series IV. I kinda liked the looks of the 30s Sunbeams, but they’re really expensive, and this was more in my budget. Maybe if I ever win the lottery or something.”

“You bought a car named after yourself?”

“I’m not so vain,” she admitted. “The car was built before I was born. I can’t say the same for the Sunbeam appliances in my kitchen, though.”

“You bought kitchen appliances with your name on them?”

“Of course I did.” She reached up a hoof and booped my nose. “You’d’ve done the same if there were appliances with your name on them. Now come on, let’s go driving.”

When she got in the right side, I thought she was expecting me to drive, until I remembered that it was a British car.

Riding on the left with no controls was weird enough; that a unicorn was driving was just the icing on the cake.

The car was tiny and open and all the other traffic felt like a threat. She kept to less-busy streets, heading north on 429 until we got in the country.

“There aren’t any proper hilly or winding roads around here,” she admitted. “That’s where this really shines, it corners like it’s on rails, and hardly weighs anything. Before I got any of the bodywork done, I took it to a road course in Batavia, and that was a lot of fun. It was supposed to be for motorcycles, but I persuaded them to let me run my car around the track. There’s a go-kart track in Niagara, but I don’t think they’d let me run this on it.”

“Not really a lot of good options around here.”

“I take what fun I can find on the few twisty roads where I can get some speed up.” She pointed a hoof back the way we’d come. “In hindsight, I shoulda bought a boat, there’s a company called Sunbeam Yachts, did you know?”

I honestly wasn’t surprised.

“Hundred thousand or more,” she said. “And I haven’t found one for sale on this side of the Atlantic yet. Still, it would be an adventure to sail it all the way from Italy, don’t you think?”

“Do you even know how to sail a yacht?”

“No, but I could learn. When I came here, I couldn’t drive a car, either.”

We ended the evening at Franco’s Pizza, sharing a white pizza at a window booth where she could keep an eye on her car. I couldn’t blame her, I would have done the same in her shoes.

The poor waitress couldn’t figure out who to give the check to. I suppose this particular situation had never come up before.

Kat giggled and slid the folder to herself, sticking a credit card inside before setting it back on the edge of the table. “I usually order takeout,” she admitted. “Or delivery, if I’m at work.”

“Do you have pizza back home?”

“We didn’t used to,” she said. “Not like this, anyway. A lot of street vendors had veggies on flatbread, which was kind of the same. Maybe some day you can come over and I can make a plakous for you, a traditional one. Or as close as I can get with the ingredients I can buy here.”

“You don’t have to go to that much effort.” Although I was curious.

“I really should cook more and eat out less,” Kat said. “You humans make food too easy to get, I think. And it costs more for fresh than packaged.”

“Yeah, it’s a crazy system.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep right after eating this much so late. You want the leftovers? ‘Cause they’re only going to tempt me.”

I wasn’t proud, so I nodded.

By the time we got back to the shop, it was fully dark. I couldn’t help but look at the vehicles we had: the Ford was gone and Kody was going to get an earful in the morning. Kevin’s truck sitting across two parking spaces and I was tempted to look and see just what the inside dual had taken out, but that would be a problem for tomorrow.

“Don’t forget the pizza.”

I nodded absently, and picked it up.

“Sorry to keep you out so late.”

“It’s fine, I had fun. All I was going to do was watch sports highlights on ESPN anyway.”

“You sound like a guy who needs to be rescued from himself.” Kat leaned over and nuzzled my arm. “Goodnight, Dennis.”

“’Night, Kat.” I fumbled for the door handle and opened the door; she waited until I’d gotten into my truck before pulling out of the parking lot.

I waited until I saw her taillights vanish on River Road before starting my truck, wondering what had just happened.

By the time I got home, I still didn’t know.

Author's Note

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