Midnight

With a short day of parts picking behind us, today is lending itself nicely to some forward progress on the Chrysler 300. While Midnight overhauls the brakes on all four corners of the beast on the lift, I'm tackling the engine rebuild – what has basically become my sole job on this project aside from supervisory and instructional moments from time to time.

I have the bottom end just about finished up. With the crank bearings already started a day or two ago, I've been able to get the crankshaft set in and bolted up, all the piston rings gapped and installed to allow for piston installation, and finally finishing up the rod caps and bearings for the connecting rods. All told, it's been surprisingly smooth sailing with little to no hiccups; bearing clearances, critical to oiling and oil pressure, have been spot on.

At this point in time, I'm going through and double-checking the torque on each and every bolt of the rotating assembly, starting with the rod end caps. So far, everything has been snugged up...

*Ping!*

Oh shit.

"Shit!" Midnight's exclamation comes just seconds after my same thought... and my heart skipping a beat. I turn around from my little workstation to find Midnight scanning the floor near the Chrysler.

"Was that you?" I ask, hoping to narrow down the source of the noise.

Midnight raises her head and stares at me, briefly dumbfounded before rolling her eyes. "No, that was the Chrysler talking. KITT's older sister has a potty mouth," she sasses.

"I meant the noise, smartass. What are you looking for?"

"Oh – I thought you were being a smartass," Midnight confesses, cringing a bit. "One of the brake shoe return springs went flying off somewhere when I was trying to hook it in. I dunno if I broke it or what happened."

"Not to celebrate your misfortune, but I'm glad that's all it was," I sigh in relief. "Thought I had snapped something in the engine or dropped something."

"How is that going? You've been surprisingly quiet for some time now." She pads over to me and the engine stand. Scanning the outside of the block briefly, she focuses on the assembly I've been piecing together this afternoon, offering a nod of approval I can't help but find rather amusing.

"Good – glad my supervisor approves of my work, too," I joke. Midnight gives me a playful hipcheck before doing a pirouette, heading back toward the Chrysler to resume her work.

Actually... did she get the new parts out, or is she reusing the ancient hardware on the car?

"Before you get back to putting that together, did I mention I have new parts for the brakes?" I ask, halting Midnight in her tracks.

"Assuming you're being serious and aren't referring to the brake shoes and drums – no, that's news to me," she laments. "That would have been nice to know before I started reassembly – I'm just about done with the first corner."

"Ah crap – I'm sorry Mid. I wasn't thinking when you mentioned doing brakes. Aside from the major bits." I set down the torque wrench in my hand and make my way towards the counter, and the shelves that have been collecting car parts amongst the shop manuals.

"It's fine. I actually enjoy wasting my time," Midnight remarks in a rather biting tone. Nevertheless, she follows behind me as I make my way around.

"Sorry, I'm retarded."

"You can't apologize for something you force me to suffer and endure every day."

As I start to scan through the packed shelves, I begin to realize how many parts and pieces have come in for the Chrysler project lately – and how little time I've spent marking each package denoting the contents and organization in general on this section of the shop.

"This is gonna be the start of a scavenger hunt, isn't it?" Midnight sighs in resignation.

"Sorry—"

"Retarded, I know. You can't use that more than once in an hour," she interjects.

"Oh, I didn't know that," I comment. "Sorry, re—"

"You're cruisin for a bruisin, dipshit."

About the time I start scheming up a response, my eyes settle upon one of the smaller white cardboard boxes on the shelf roughly at waist level. Even with everything here, I somehow instantly recognize it as the package containing brake hardware. Plucking the box from its hiding spot, I whirl around and present it to Midnight. "Here – that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Silence and a deadpan stare are my answers as the box slips out of my hands and floats toward Midnight.

"With that kind of attitude, I think I should have pretended to need to search longer."

"If you didn't get attitude from me, you'd have no drive – and you'd feel deprived," Mid counters.

"Ha, that rhymed. And I'm not going to agree with you, because you'll just take it to the next level."

Midnight just shakes her head, smirking as she spins around and heads back toward the project on the lift. She's doing her work the smart way – while both rear wheels are off of the car, only one side is torn apart. With focus purely on one side and the other still being complete, it makes for a perfect reference in case one forgets how everything went together and should look.

Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. It's miserable trying to remember how everything fits just going off memory – and twice the number of parts lying scattered everywhere. At least Midnight didn't have to learn the hard way like I have in the past. On repeated occasions.

"I thought I was doing a decent job of whipping you into shape, keeping things organized," Midnight calls back. "What the fuck happened?"

"You did. We've had a lot of parts come in just in the last week, and I've been sidetracked in my thinking to really pay attention to where I'm putting items."

"In other words, you're worrying too much about me, when you need to be worrying about everything else." While it comes out in a cocky tone I'm used to, Midnight's musing on such a serious topic as her well-being hits a nerve. Just before I start heading back around the counter to resume my work, I spy an errant bolt lying on the counter...

Quickly snapping it up, I sidehand it toward Midnight – who, quick as a whip and always on her toes, manages to sense it and dodge the projectile. The bolt clatters across the floor, disappearing to who knows where.

"Hey, fucker – I was only joking!" she cries, twirling around to leer at me.

"It's hard to tell with you sometimes. Also, you always throw things at me," I make sure to point out.

Midnight's ears briefly flatten against her head, but she takes a step forward. "That's because more often than not, you deserve it."

"Once in a while, yes. You go above and beyond," I pout, crossing my arms.

"I'm an overachiever, I guess," she hmphs, allowing her face to soften up and relax again. "Anyway – from the looks of it, the engine assembly looks like it's going smoothly."

It seems like an innocuous comment... but I know better. That is a soft intro to floating a question I've been expecting all day – 'how long do you think it's gonna take to get it all put together?'

I can't fault her for getting excited – but I can have fun with it. Confident in my convictions on what Midnight is thinking, I proceed with what I have been planning all morning. "Yeah, been going quicker than I anticipated. Once I make sure everything is to spec as far as torque, I just have the oil pump and pickup tube to install, then the oil pan and accompanying gasket – that will finish up the bottom end, believe it or not."

"Hell, you keep up that torrid pace, we'll have the car running by the end of the week," she replies, perking up at the idea.

Called it – got her hook, line, and sinker.

"No, we got at least another month of work putting this together before I can even think about starting this up," I say, shaking my head forlornly in an attempt to sell it.

Midnight lets out an audible gasp as she takes me seriously. "What?! How?!" she exclaims. But my failure to keep a straight face quickly makes her realize I'm feeding her a load of shit. "See, this is why you get things thrown at you," she mutters unhappily with a scowl lining her face.

"It's kinda worth it for that sort of face and response," I say with a shrug.

"Alright then – I guess I need to come up with a better punishment for you since that no longer seems to be a viable deterrent."

"Oh dear – hopefully it's not more cuddles with you pinning me on the couch for a nap."

Midnight shakes her head at my suggestion, but refuses to proceed beyond that gesture. Instead, she finally returns to her prior work with the brakes.

"Having to scheme the next idea, or are you saving it as a surprise to spring on me later?" I ask.

Midnight turns her head to look at me. Though she doesn't have a verbal response, her stare is... there's a distinct mischievous gleam in her eyes that I can't put my finger on.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice," I wisecrack.

Midnight smirks and shrugs her shoulders at my oft-used quip. But she holds her tongue, preferring to begin reassembling the brake drum above her with the new parts.

...is that the plan? Giving me the silent treatment?

"Wow, I didn't think you'd stoop to some grade-level bullshit for punishment. That's actually kind of pathetic, Mid," I lightly chastise her.

Wanting to revel in everything I have in store to counter her, Midnight positions herself off to the side of her area of work. It allows me to see her face without requiring her to turn away much – and she demonstrates this by shooting me a look of disappointment that matches my tone, before sticking her tongue out in defiance.

"You need to go back to the drawing board. That's really lame."

She just shakes her head, that smirk growing wider by the second. Seeing as how I'm just egging her on rather than cracking her... I leave well enough alone. I have my own project to continue.

Of course, the forced silence now feels awkward; it makes the torque wrench in my hand seem to click unnaturally loud as I finish the final round of tightening bolts. The radio remains on behind the counter, but it just seems... quiet. It doesn't alleviate the lack of commentary at all, only serving to emphasize it.

But now that I've inadvertently agreed to this game by not talking for a few minutes, I'm in a box; trying to break the stalemate would basically be giving in and letting her know I can't stand this stupid game. And it already is starting to drive me nuts.

Fate decides to intervene with a loud buzz near the counter. While unexpected, I know what it is – the sound of the electronic bell being pressed at the front gate, letting me know someone is here. Been a while since I've heard that – and I'm not expecting anyone...

"I'll be back, I'm gonna see who's a-knockin'."

Midnight just nods her head before I make my way out of the garage and into the afternoon sun. It isn't too hot today, making the short jaunt from the shop to the front gate a mundane but not unpleasant excursion on foot. But I hasten my steps when I hear the sound of a diesel crank up and clatter at idle just beyond the fence; but a full-blown sprint would have been necessary to catch the vehicle, for I hear it set off down the road just as I reach the man gate.

The lack of patience on my visitor's end makes more sense once I unlock the gate and step out into what was once my parking lot – a brown cardboard box lies just outside in the sand. A bit on the large side, it is plain aside from a white label on top, which piques my interest immediately; I hadn't been expecting any deliveries...

Picking it up reveals it's not a particularly heavy package; lightly shaking the box doesn't offer any clues, other than there are items inside that move around some. But the big blocky letters scrawled on the label bring a grin to my face – it's a package for Midnight.

The sender? None other than Starla.

Oh, this is too good. With renewed energy, I hustle back toward the shop, wielding the inadvertent gift just delivered to our address. Turning the corner into the garage, Midnight remains preoccupied with brake assembly, paying no mind to me as my feet find the concrete floor.

"Huh, looks like we got a package today," I comment aloud. "The weird thing is, it's addressed to Midnight."

That gets her attention immediately. Midnight freezes, turning her head to look at me with wide eyes.

"It's still technically my address, and I'm curious what could be in here, so I think I'll go ahead and—"

"Give me that!" Midnight cries out. She gallops toward me at full speed, though before she even reaches me, I can feel the box getting yanked out of my hands.

"Hey, I got you to talk again."

"Shut up, dick," Midnight mutters in defeat. Having slid to a halt, she now reverses course, turning away from me and walking toward the stairs.

"Hey, I want to see what's in there!" I call after her.

"No. This is the package I've been waiting for – it's not for your eyes," she replies, not bothering to look at me or arrest her walking pace.

I have no plans to invade her privacy, and I'm sure she knows that. Even so...

"You know, you have to sleep at some point..."

"And you'll be sleeping permanently if curiosity gets the best of you," Midnight counters with little hesitation. "I'm putting it in the back of the closet for now. If I see it moved – you die." With that, Midnight streaks up the stairs and out of sight beyond the door at the top.

I have just enough time to head back to the engine stand before Midnight trots back down the steps, ready to resume her work. "I'm not gonna touch it, scout's honor – but will I ever find out what was in that?" I ask.

"Eventually..." Midnight trails off, but a thin smile graces her face. Whether it's excitement about the contents of that package, or forcing me to endure the mystery...

Well, only she knows that for certain.