"No customers allowed in the work area," Ed said. His voice was like gravel.

"Sorry," Blackburn said. "But no one's in the other room."

"Be there in a minute." Ed turned away and flipped a switch on an air compressor. The compressor rattled to life, filling the garage with its racket.

Blackburn returned to the waiting room and watched the Dr. Pepper clock over the pop machine. The sweep hand went around eight times before Ed came in and stepped behind the counter. Ed took a clipboard from a nail on the wall, inserted a printed yellow form under the clip, and spoke to Blackburn without looking at him.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"I need a tune-up and an oil change," Blackburn said. "It's the Fury out front."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It just needs a tune-up and an oil change."

Ed looked up from the clipboard, scowling. "What's it doing?" he asked.

Blackburn guessed that he had committed an error similar to a patient's telling his physician what treatment he wanted, rather than what his symptoms were. "It's running rough," he said. "And the oil's dirty."

Ed wrote on the yellow form. "What's the model year?"

" '68."

"How long since the belts and hoses were changed?"

"I don't know. I just bought it last month. They seem fine, though."

Ed looked up scowling again. "We'll take a look," he said. "If you'll fill out your name and phone number-" He turned the clipboard around and dropped his pen on the counter. "-we'll get to it in an hour or two and give you a call."

Blackburn wrote down the information, using his current alias, Donald Wayne. "You still running the twenty-nine ninety-five tune-up special?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"That's what I want, then. And an oil change."

Ed tapped the bottom of the yellow form. "Need a signature. And your car key."

Blackburn signed the form, then put his key on the counter. "See you in a while," he said.

"Uh-huh." Ed replaced the clipboard on its nail, put the key in his pocket, and returned to the garage.

Blackburn went outside. He had a few hours to kill, and his apartment was too far away for him to walk there and back. But he had passed a multiplex cinema ten blocks away. He patted the Fury's fender and headed down the street.

He saw an early show, ate lunch, and was back at Ed amp; Earl's at one o'clock. The Fury was sitting where he'd left it. He went into the waiting room and found Earl drinking coffee in a swivel chair behind the counter.

"Excuse me," Blackburn said. "Have you had a chance to work on my Fury yet?"

Earl grimaced and stood. "What's the name?"

"Donald Wayne."

Earl took the clipboard from the wall, put it on the counter, and clicked his tongue. "You got problems, Mr. Wayne," he said. "Your radiator cap's not sealing, your belts and hoses are worn, your distributor cap's cracked, your air cleaner's dirty, your shock absorbers are weak, your fuel pump's shot, and you need a new ignition rotor, spark plugs, and points. New plug cables would be a good idea too, because your insulation's brittle. And you need an oil change and filter, a cooling system drain and flush, and fresh transmission fluid and seals. We also recommend a brake job and new tires. When Ed drove it, he said the brakes felt mushy, and your tires are just about running on cord due to underinflation. If you want to put off fixing the brakes, they might last another thousand miles. But it's best not to gamble when it comes to brakes." Earl looked at Blackburn.

Blackburn was confused. The Fury was parked where he had left it. But he supposed that Ed could have reparked it there. "Did you do the tune-up and oil change?" he asked.

"No, sir," Earl said. "We don't do anything until we get your say-so. We tried to call you, but you weren't home."

"I already authorized the tune-up and oil change," Blackburn said. "They were supposed to be done by now."

Earl shrugged. "I don't know anything about that. Ed said you wanted the car checked over, and then we were supposed to call you. See, we never do work without the customer's approval."

"No, of course not," Blackburn said. He was replaying his conversation with Ed in his mind. It was possible that Ed had misunderstood his wishes. "How much will it cost to fix everything on that list?"

Earl punched numbers into a calculator. The numbers added up to $1,117.67.

"No," Blackburn said.

Earl squinted at him. "Well, sir," he said, "that's why we wait for your say-so. We think that these things need to be done to make this a safe car, but we'll only do what you want. What should we leave out?"

Blackburn considered. The Fury seemed to ride and stop just fine to him, and he had a spare tire in the trunk. "No shock absorbers or brakes," he said. "And no tires."

Earl shook his head as he crossed the items off the yellow form. "You're the boss," he said. He punched the calculator buttons again. "That leaves us at three hundred ninety-four dollars and thirty-one cents."

It was still too much. "Look," Blackburn said, "all I want is a tune-up and an oil change. No radiator cap, no coolant change, no transmission fluid, no spark plug wires, no belts, no hoses."

"Gotta have a new distributor cap for the tune-up," Earl said. "And the rotor, plugs, and points."

"Okay. How much will that come to?"

Earl punched the buttons. "One hundred seventy-six dollars and twenty-three cents. Tax included."

"The tune-up's supposed to be twenty-nine ninety-five," Blackburn said. "You don't charge a hundred and fifty for an oil change, do you?"

Earl gave him a stern look. "Twenty-nine ninety-five is the cost of our labor. We have to pass the cost of the parts on to the customer, or we'd go broke. And you're getting the premium oil change, which includes a crankcase flush and a Fram filter."

Blackburn gave up. "Do it," he said.

Earl wrote the final total on the form. "You need to initial this," he said, pushing the clipboard across the counter.

Blackburn initialed the form. "When will it be ready?"

Earl replaced the clipboard on its nail. "An hour or two."

Blackburn looked through the glass door into the garage. The same cars were still there. The two younger mechanics were leaning over the engine of the car on the floor. Ed was nowhere in sight.

"I'll wait here," Blackburn said. He sat down on a folding chair. "I want to watch you work."

Earl went into the garage and pressed a button on the wall. The nearer bay door opened. Ed appeared beside Earl then, and the two men talked for a while. Ed scowled through the door at Blackburn. Blackburn waved.

Ed pressed another button, this one on a metal box hanging on a cable from the ceiling, and the hydraulic lift brought its car down to floor level. Earl got into the car and backed it out. Then he drove Blackburn's Fury inside and gestured to one of the younger mechanics. That mechanic came into the waiting room, took the clipboard from the wall, and returned to the garage. Ed and Earl spoke to him and then headed toward the back of the garage, out of Blackburn's view. The young mechanic opened the hood of the Fury and got to work.

Blackburn bought a Dr. Pepper from the pop machine, picked up an old copy of Motor Trend from the table beside his chair, and alternated between reading and watching the activity in the garage. Metal clanked and pneumatic wrenches whirred. The air compressor chunked on and off. There was an occasional shouted cuss word.

As Blackburn finished his soda, he heard a car pull into Ed and Earl's lot. A minute later a small, elderly woman came in through the Customer Entrance. She paused inside the door, looked at Blackburn, and smiled. Blackburn smiled back. The woman went to the counter and waited. She stood there for eleven minutes, and then Blackburn went to the door to the garage and pushed it open.