Having settled the matter of borrowing the car with Kevin, Shane wasted no time. He turned and went back to his "South Side Iron Gym," carrying out a toolbox from a small cubicle inside.
That was the place he had specifically cleared out to store tools. Inside were some wrenches and screwdrivers he usually used, as well as some new tools he had just redeemed from Temu.
If anyone asked, he could directly say: This is the tool kit I used for renovation.
But Shane estimated that Kevin's thick nerves wouldn't notice these details.
In the back alley of the bar, Kevin was standing in front of the old van, turning the key hard (the car was now in the back alley of the bar).
But no matter how he turned it, the engine only let out a few weak ka-ka sounds, coughing but never starting.
"Fck, won't start again. I really should dismantle this 'old thing'!"
"Don't scold it, don't scold it."
Shane walked out from another door of the Iron Gym, holding the box and approaching, teasing, "If you scold it anymore, it might really just die on you."
Although Shane wasn't a professional mechanic, he understood some basic repair knowledge.
He and Lip had repaired the RV in the Gallagher backyard several times before, and they had actually relied on it for some business.
It was just that later, the RV got so rotten that after they stripped everything stripable from it, it was parked back in the backyard to gather dust, and no one cared about it anymore.
Now, this knowledge came in handy for Kevin's broken car.
Kevin in the driver's seat pulled out the key and spread his hands exaggeratedly:
"Brother, I'm serious. If it falls apart on the road one day, I'll just take the wheels off and use them as bar stools. Fixing this thing costs more than replacing it. Are you sure you can really fix it?"
Shane had already walked around to the front of the car with the toolbox. He put the box on the ground with a clang, popped the hood smoothly, and replied at the same time:
"I think this car of yours can still last a while. Also, do you know Murphy's Law? The more you think it will break, the more likely it is to break. If you think every day that this car can still run, maybe the next time you turn the key, it will vroom vroom and drive away."
Shane remembered that next summer (Season 2), Lip fixed this car and drove it with Kevin to sell the "special" cigarettes.
Shane opened the hood, and a smell of age hit his face.
Metal parts were rusty, most rubber hoses were aged and turning white, and the air filter was blacker than the luck of some actresses on the website.
"What happened the last time this car started normally?"
Shane tilted his head and asked Kevin, who had gotten out of the driver's seat.
"Last time? Who the hell remembers!" Kevin scratched his head.
"I only remember the last time I started it was to load beer, and it died halfway on the road. But after a while, it woke up by itself."
As he spoke, he patted the hood: "It's like a middle-aged man's prostate, good sometimes, bad sometimes."
"Then I should congratulate you. At least when this car has problems, you can still pee, and hold it back a little. Unlike some people, once they can't do it, they are completely paralyzed."
As Shane spoke, he fished out a battery tester and two new high-voltage wires from the toolbox.
These things meant a string of painful numbers in local auto parts stores now, but in his "Temu" connected to 2025 supplies, they could be settled for a few dollars.
He checked the battery first. The voltage was low, but not to the point of being completely scrapped.
"Looks like this car's 'two balls' aren't completely dead yet."
Shane buried his upper body in the engine bay and tinkered for a while, then shouted to Kevin: "Go up and try turning it again."
Kevin did as told.
Cough... cough... cough...
The engine only gave a few more reluctant coughs, like an old man smoking dry tobacco under the covers—all smoke and no fire.
"The ignition coil and spark plugs are big problems; probably completely scrapped."
Shane backed out, clapping his dusty hands. "The good news is it can be saved. The bad news is I have to dismantle a bunch of stuff."
"Dismantle it then. This broken car isn't worth much anyway. It'd be best if you can fix it."
After Kevin finished speaking, he didn't sneak back into the bar to be a hands-off boss. Instead, he leaned in a step closer, watching Shane rummage through a pile of tools he couldn't name, a look of obvious discomfort on his face.
He originally planned to let Shane do everything and just be a boss who took benefits for free, but now his conscience couldn't take it.
Shane was doing everything now. If he just watched from the side without contributing, wouldn't he become another Frank?
"Hey, brother," Kevin spoke somewhat awkwardly, "Is there anything I can help with?"
Shane glanced at him: "What for? You're not doing business this morning? What if customers come?"
"It's Saturday morning; this is the deadest time for the bar. Even if I go home to sleep and come back at noon, I might not miss any customers. Besides, you're putting in so much effort now. If I fcking watch from the side like Frank and take a cut of the profit for nothing, that feels worse than eating a piece of stingy cold pizza."
As Kevin spoke, he pointed to the currently empty back door of the bar:
"If someone really comes, I'll go back in. Now at least I can lend you a hand, hand you a tool, help you curse at this broken car. Otherwise, what kind of brother am I?"
Shane was twisting a rusted screw hard and replied without looking back: "But you are the investor now, Boss Kevin. Sitting and collecting money is your job."
"Come on, I don't want to squeeze my own brother. I can't be that kind of boss. What kind of person do you take me for!"
Kevin almost jumped up at Shane's words.
"In the South Side, only people like Frank run their mouths and not their hands. Hurry up, give me a job! Even if it's just helping you wipe this broken car clean."
He pointed at the dark engine and dusty car shell, his face full of loyalty and seriousness.
Looking at his serious appearance, Shane couldn't help but smile.
Well, this was very Kevin. Loyal. Later on, to some extent, he actually considered himself the "big brother of the Gallagher family."
He and V both treated the Gallaghers (except Frank) as family.
Shane stopped what he was doing, dug out a bottle of carburetor cleaner and a wire brush from the toolbox, and stuffed them into Kevin's hands.
"Alright, Boss Kevin, your first task—"
Shane pointed to the throttle position. "Clean up the carbon deposits and sludge here. But be careful, don't spray the cleaner into your eyes; you don't want to be blind."
"Roger that."
Kevin immediately took the things, squatted down, and sprayed fiercely at the metal piece, cursing while working:
"Die, you dirty middle-aged bastard."
Shane looked at his posture and smiled, saying nothing more. With Kevin's help, this broken car should be fixed faster.
...
At the same time, Saturday at the Gallagher house was unfolding in a familiar yet slightly different rhythm.
Fiona rarely didn't go to her part-time job today, nor did she have an appointment with V to go out.