The mechanic's light hung under the raised hood of the '78 Plymouth illuminating the open heart of the engine. Wayne watched as Watt Sr. lay over the side of the car scraping something off the block with a screwdriver. The mid-afternoon sun was forgotten in the dark, cavelike portion of Watt's garage, a large room enclosed in tin with several cars scattered around on a dirt floor. The ground was littered with old auto-part wrappers and discarded guts of engines ripped apart several years ago, even before Wayne had been born. Wayne's father Johnny talked with Watt Sr. in a voice that was very friendly, almost patronizing. A voice that placed an empty pain in Wayne's stomach.
"The boy's got more money than sense," Johnny said. "This is the second engine he's had to buy. I thought the Army would have straightened him out more than that. I bet he hadn't checked the oil in his or his wife's car since we changed them."
Wayne remained silent. His dad always liked to tell stories about how he helped Wayne and his wife. He liked to talk about how he mowed the grass, fixed whatever they had broken, and generally kept them from just falling to pieces. His father liked to make it sound as if Wayne couldn't really function without him.
"You haven't, have you?"
"I checked it two weeks ago," Wayne lied.
"Watt Junior said that oil stick had some oil burnt to it. It'll look full when you check it, unless you scrub it off. He might have checked it and thought it was full," Watt Senior said.
Johnny adjusted his thin frame, grabbed his glasses above and below the right lens and pushed them up on his nose, more out of habit than need. A defense mechanism, designed to create an air of self-confidence. Wayne noticed that a lot of southern men took on that posture and voice which seemed to him to be an attempt at appearing to know what you're "talkin'bout," when deep down you're so insecure you're lucky to be talking at all. If you looked at them hard enough, they began to look like scared boys. Of course, Wayne knew his dad wouldn't understand that kind of talk. He would think it was weird.
"Have you looked at the car?" Johnny asked the mechanic.
"No, Watt Junior looks at all the new ones. I mess with these here ones. They ain't like they was when we was his age." The elder Watt's voice was rough and vibrated with slow waves; there was a high, squeaky quality that seemed to hitch a ride on its low end, as if two voices spoke at once - but without harmony. His black skin was wrinkled and seemed to droop. He looked a lot older than Wayne's father.
"You used to could just take 'em apart and see what was wrong," Johnny said. "Now, with all these computers it's a little more complicated. You got to get schooling for that."
Wayne hated his father's implication. He didn't even know what he was saying. He still thought that people who were black were automatically less bright than white people. He was always sure to say that he wasn't prejudiced, and held up friends like Watt as examples. But he still told racist jokes and used tones of voice that suggested his superiority. Still, Wayne knew that his dad didn't realize that he was a bigot. It was some sort of southern generational thing. His father hadn't gone to college. It was a learned ignorance.
"Yeah, Watt Junior keeps talkin' about signing up for one of them courses out at the Junior College. But you can learn as much about doing by just doing, then you can get out there."
"But you got to get that piece o' paper nowadays. I told Wayne that all through high school, but he wouldn't listen. At least the Army got that through his head. He makes straight A's now. It's amazin' what a little hard work will do for you. He said that the Army made him want to go to college, 'cause he sure didn't want to do that all his life."
"It'll sure 'nough do that," Watt Senior said.
"He's always been lazy." Johnny reached out and nudged Wayne's shoulder with his fist. Wayne knew what was coming next. "He musta gotten that from his mama's side. He sure didn't get that from me."
"When do you think Watt Junior will get the new engine in my car?" Wayne asked. "I really don't need it in a hurry, but I don't like driving Daddy's truck. I have bad luck with mechanical things."
"I don't want him driving it no longer than he has to. He already about knocked the door off it, trying to back up with it open."
Watt Senior laughed. "I don't know. Watt Junior will be back directly. He just walked over to the parts house."
Johnny had known the elder Watt for more than twenty years. He'd first taken Wayne to the garage, which always seemed to be on the verge of collapse, when he was five. Since then, Wayne had been there several times. Watt's garage was located in the heart of the black section of town. As a child, Wayne had not understood why the "niggers" lived in such a crowded place where they didn't have yards to play ball in or swing sets to play "Star Trek" on, beaming down to earth by jumping from the slide. Wayne once asked his father if all black people were going to hell - were they black because they were full of sin? The preacher had said that sins were black and only the salvation of Jesus could make them white as snow. At the time, he had hoped that his dad would tell him that it was the black people that were going to hell. Then he would have thought there was hope for them to change, but more importantly it would have meant that he was all right and was going to heaven. But his dad had told him that skin color had nothing to do with sin. That was Wayne's first lesson in gray.
When Watt Junior entered, he saw Wayne and his father and walked over. Watt Senior came up from the car's heart and stood beside his son. They were the same height, though the younger Watt was slimmer with more muscular definition showing through his army-brown T-shirt. His skin was still smooth but his hands were rough and scarred, and he was missing two front teeth.
"I think we gonna have to change out the engine," Watt Junior told Johnny. His voice had the same dual quality of his father's.
"Your daddy told us. One day the boy'll learn to take care of what's his. I don't know what he would do if I wasn't here to help fix everything. Have you ever seen a twenty-five-year- old, married man that won't check his oil?"
"He could've been checkin' it," Watt Junior said. "There was oil burnt to the dipstick. If he just pulled it out and wiped it off without lookin' at it, and then checked it, it might look full."
"Did it have any oil on it at all?" Johnny asked.
"Naw, it was bone dry."
Johnny looked at Wayne and grinned. "Dawg, I think I could tell the difference between burnt oil and real oil. I look for the wetness more than anything. I reckon he'll remember after he has to pay for a new engine."
"I reckon he will," Watt Senior agreed.
"I think he should get a Clauson rebuild instead of one from Ray. Don't you?"
"Wellll, now, I don't know," Watt Junior said. "I'd think they 'bout the same. I ain't ever had any problems with none of 'em."
"Yeah, but Clauson sells them for fifty dollars less. And they put chrome rings in them. Ray still uses cast iron. Chrome rings seat better, don't they, Watt?"
"Yeah...yeah, that they do." Watt Senior's eyes looked old and tired. They drooped like his face, and were bloodshot like the eyes of a career drunk. "Yeah, I reckon Clauson's be just as good as one of Ray's."
"I'll order one for you," Johnny said to Watt Junior. "I'll call over to Cairo tomorrow and get them to send one over. I trust you to fix whatever else you find. Your dad knows how I like my cars. I an remember times when I would bring that old Bonneville I used to have in here for your daddy to replace bearings or something. I'd come back for it and he would tell me that he changed the brake pads or replaced the blinker bulb on it. Once he would get into it, he would find other things that needed fixin'. He knew he didn't even have to ask. He knew how I wanted my car. You can't have that kind of relationship with just anybody. Some people would start fixin' things that ain't broke. But I knew your daddy, and I knew he wouldn't do that. That's why I knew that you're like that. You and your daddy are good people."
Watt Junior just nodded in agreement with Johnny's words.
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