Cord the Car Parts Salesman's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Cord had six 1931 Model A Fords to keep running, and no clean place to touch a single one. He was the parts salesman for Storyland Canada's Father's Day Corner, and he took that job to heart. His army pants were streaked with grease. His black shirt clung to his back. He crouched on the gravel beside a red Ford, its hood open, a carburetor balanced on his knee. One sneeze, one gust of dust, and the delicate float valve would clog for good. He blew grit off the part and swore under his breath. The cars sat in the open lot. Wind carried sand from the road straight into their engines. Every repair he made out here risked breaking something else. He set the carburetor on a rag and stood. His curled moustache twitched as he thought. He needed a real workspace, and he needed it today. A truck rolled up the drive. Daddy Parker climbed out, glasses fogged, cap pulled low. He owned this property. He owned the cars too. He walked over and looked at the parts spread across the gravel. "You'll ruin them working like this," Daddy Parker said. "I know." Cord wiped his hands. "I need shelter. Clean air. A bench." Daddy Parker looked at the six cars. He said nothing for a moment. "There's a barn out back. Open-air. Roof's good." He paused. "It's empty." "Empty enough for six Fords?" "Empty enough." Daddy Parker looked away. "I was saving it for something. Doesn't matter now." Cord heard the weight under those flat words, but he didn't push. The man had spent his money on his kids, not on himself. Cord had learned that much already. He knew better than to ask. They pushed the first car together. The barn stood at the back of the lot, four posts and a wide tin roof. No walls, but the sand couldn't reach here. Cord dragged in a workbench and a hose. He laid his rags in a row. He set the carburetor down on clean wood and finally breathed. By dusk all six red Fords stood under the roof. Cord finished the first carburetor and slid it home. The engine caught on the first turn. It ran smooth. No grit. No damage. "That's one," Cord said. Daddy Parker nodded from the doorway. "Five more." "Five more." Cord looked at the row of cars. He had his workspace now. But the barn had no walls, and the roof had a soft spot in one corner where the light showed through. He touched the wet mark on the wood beneath it. Rain was coming. Metal and rain didn't mix. He'd solved one problem and bought himself another.