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Complaining I Fix Harvesters Too Slow? Don't Beg When Wheat Rots
NovelShort
new
Completed
I spent five days of overtime fixing harvesters for the village, and they still complained I was too slow and charged too much. The whole village drove their harvesters over to block my door, trying to force me to back down. They said the mechanic in the next village charged less and did better work. Fine, then. Go find him. I'm done waiting on you people. But when the wheat was about to rot in the fields, they came with their heads bowed, begging me to help.
Chapters (4)
第1章
I put in five days of overtime fixing the village's harvesters, and all they did was complain I was too slow and charged too much.
The whole village drove their harvesters over and blocked my gate, trying to force me to back down.
They even said the mechanic in the next village charged less and did better work.
Fine. Then go find him. I'm done waiting on you.
And when the wheat was about to rot in the fields, they were the ones who came crawling back, begging me for help.
1
Harvest season had come around again, and I'd already worked five straight days of overtime.
I'd just gotten back from an emergency job out in the fields, throat so dry it was smoking.
Foreman Lawrence from Sunnyvale kept circling me, holding out a cigarette with a big smile pasted on.
"Mentor Bell, our village has thirty harvesters. We're counting on you for all of them."
"It's the middle of the season. We can't afford anything going wrong."
"Foreman Lawrence, doesn't your village have that mechanic, Mr. James?" I asked.
Clearfield alone had me run off my feet lately. I really didn't want to go bail out some other village.
Lawrence spat. "Bah. That bastard's a snake with a smile. Anybody who hires him is cursed for eight generations."
I drank half my bottle of water.
"All right, I'll come take a look at what's going on. But you already heard my terms, so don't go saying I'm gouging you."
Lawrence broke into a grin. "Mentor Bell, don't talk like that. If you can free up time to help us, I'm more grateful than I can say. I'll head back and wait for you in the village."
I rested for ten minutes, and just as I was about to head out, Toby Finch came limping over.
He farmed thirty acres of wheat on his own, with three machines, big and small.
"Maxwell Bell, heading out?"
"Yeah. Something you need, Uncle Toby?"
"I've got two of the small machines that won't crank. Come take a look for me."
Toby was the type who loved getting something for nothing. Time and again I'd diagnose the problem, and then he'd go buy the parts online himself.
But I never said a word about it.
"I'm in a hurry to get out. Just grab a battery and jump it yourself."
Toby's face fell in an instant. "Maxwell, you skip the little jobs and there won't be any big ones. We're all from the same village. You can't even come glance at it for me?"
"I don't have time. I've got harvesters to fix over in Sunnyvale."
Toby's voice turned sour. "Oh, so you've picked up a big job for someone else. No wonder you can't be bothered with us little fish."
I looked at him. I didn't want to make an enemy of him, so I just said, flatly, "Uncle Toby, check your own conscience before you talk like that."
"All these years, how many times have I helped you for free?"
I turned to leave. Toby was muttering as he fished out his phone. "Don't act like you're the only one who can do it!"
I went over to Sunnyvale, worked through the machines, tallied up roughly which parts I'd need to order, and then headed back to the village.
The plan was to put in more overtime and knock out the three machines still sitting in the fields.
But from a good way off, I could already see the harvesters packed into my yard.
I had to leave my own truck out by the road.
A crowd of villagers sat smoking in the shade of the trees, Toby out front, Geoffrey Miles right behind him.
Toby spoke up first. "Maxwell, this shop of yours runs entirely on us folks here in Clearfield keeping you in business."
"It's harvest season now. You've got to fix our machines first."
Geoffrey held his cigarette, all smiles. "That's right, Maxwell. Whatever else, we're all one village."
"You'd fix Sunnyvale's harvesters before ours? That's not right, is it?"
The others muttered among themselves, all agreeing that was the way of it.
I looked them over. "Everyone, isn't there such a thing as first come, first served?"
"Every one of your households has at least one harvester that still runs, doesn't it? Jamming all these machines you don't even need right now into my yard, what exactly is that supposed to accomplish?"
Toby's eyes darted around. "Mentor Bell, we're just playing it safe, aren't we?"
"One way or another, you've got to help us first."
第2章
I knew exactly what was going on. Toby Finch was sore that I hadn't jumped his machine to the front, and Geoffrey Miles thought my rates were highway robbery.
Two of a kind.
So I just laid it out flat. "You want a rush job, fine. I've got three conditions. First, I don't work on machines with parts you bring me yourself."
I'd eaten the cost of a brand-new engine once, all because a customer insisted on supplying his own head gasket.
"Second, don't push me on the pace. Yeah, I'm slow on a harvester, but that's so you're not broken down in the middle of your field later."
"Third, labor's the same as what I charge in Sunnyvale. Eighty dollars an hour."
The second those three conditions were out of my mouth, the whole yard blew up.
"What? Bell, that's daylight robbery."
Miles's fat face went dark as a skillet bottom. "You always used to charge fifty. Now it's eighty? You're just jacking the price because you've got us over a barrel."
I cut him off. "You've got it backwards. I've never raised my rate. Eighty's the rush rate, the priority rate. You've all got working harvesters and you want to cut the line anyway, so I've got to treat everybody the same."
That shut Miles up for a second, but he was quick to start twisting things again.
"All right, so you say slow means careful. Truth is you're dragging your feet on purpose to pad the hours."
"And your parts aren't cheap either. A diesel filter costs you eighty and you sell it for a hundred and eighty. You think we're idiots?"
"A hundred bucks a filter, and with all these harvesters, how much are you raking in? Have you got any conscience at all?"
My chest gave a little jolt. How did Miles know what I paid for those filters?
But that was the price of the cheap ones. The genuine part cost me a hundred and forty.
I didn't want to explain. Explaining only digs the hole deeper.
Miles's words landed like a stone in a pond, and the crowd started cursing me for being a bloodsucker.
"This Bell, he's really something. Charging his own neighbors that much."
"And dragging his feet on purpose to squeeze us."
I didn't argue. I just added one more line. "One more thing. Rush jobs don't run a tab. Cash up front."
Toby Finch slapped a palm down on the front of his machine, a cold smirk pulling at his mouth. "Bell, don't you think you're going too far?"
"We're all neighbors here. Who ever stiffed you on money?"
I looked him dead in the eye. "You still owe me three thousand from your repair two years back. I've got it written down."
He choked on that instantly, his face flickering white and green, and the whole yard went quiet for a few seconds.
Miles was the first to break the silence.
He let out a couple of cold laughs. "Bell, I'll ask you one more time. Are you changing the conditions or not?"
I shook my head. "No. If you want the work done, leave it here. If you don't, drive it home."
Miles's face darkened, his voice gone icy. "Don't get smug. I'll tell you something, I've known for a while there's a mechanic over in the next village. Good attitude, low rates."
"If it weren't for the fact that we're all from the same village, I'd have gone to him long ago."
Miles had clearly come loaded for this. I wasn't going to coddle him. "Then go to him. No objection from me."
He turned around to face the crowd. "Everybody, come with me to Mr. James's place and see how a real mechanic does it."
"He only repairs, never swaps in new parts. Labor's forty an hour, and jump-starts are thrown in free."
"Never overcharges. A whole lot better than Bell here."
Toby Finch had been stewing ever since I'd exposed his old debt in front of everyone.
He jumped right in to back Miles up. "I'm going right now. Everybody come see for yourselves, come see how much dirty money some people have been making."
Miles glanced back, a smug little smile hiding in his eyes. "Bell, if Mr. James does right by us, you can kiss every job in this village goodbye."
I didn't answer, and I didn't stop them. I just watched them fire up their harvesters and pull away.
Complain that I'm slow, complain that I'm bleeding you dry. Fine. We'll see.
Some jobs don't get fixed with your mouth.
I bolted down a few bites of food and called Old Ralph Perry.
"Ralph, where are those three harvesters, yours and Phil's and Anthony's? I'll come fix them right now."
Ralph hemmed and hawed, and it took him a long while to get it out. "Max... Max, son, I'm real sorry... Miles just brought a mechanic by and got us squared away."
第3章
I froze for a second, like a mouthful of rice had lodged in my throat.
Geoffrey had moved that fast?
"Ralph, that tensioner pulley of yours is shot. I've already ordered the part. How's anyone supposed to fix it otherwise?"
Ralph let out a sigh. "Maxwell... Mr. James just swapped in a bearing, thirty bucks. Your tensioner runs a hundred and eighty. Let's just forget it."
My chest jumped, the corner of my mouth twitched, and I sat there uneasy for a long while, torn.
In the end I chose to say it straight. "Ralph, the inner rim of the tensioner is worn. A bearing won't hold. It'll pop loose and smash the radiator."
Before Ralph could answer, Geoffrey cut in from the side. "What's this garbage you're spouting? You just can't stand to see anyone else do well. You won't be happy till you've unloaded your overpriced parts on somebody! Ralph, don't listen to him..."
I stared out at the green stretch of wheat, lost in it. So this was what it felt like, the cold in your chest.
That night I dug out my repair ledgers. Every household in the village had a tab.
But I'd never once gone chasing after any of it.
The year Ralph's son got married, his harvester died out in the field. I fixed it in the rain till past midnight and didn't take a cent.
And now they'd put their faith in some outsider.
I calmly dialed Foreman Lawrence. "Foreman Lawrence, I'll come by first thing tomorrow. I'll start on those machines over on the east end."
He was overjoyed. "Good, good, good, I'll be waiting for you."
Meanwhile, over on the other side, Mr. James's yard was packed with harvesters.
He worked with a young apprentice, run off his feet.
His face was practically creased with smiling. He bought every one of them a Red Bull.
Geoffrey lounged nearby with a cigarette between his teeth and a drink in his left hand, jabbing his finger and running his mouth.
"See that? Belt's just loose. Tighten it and you're done. If it were Maxwell, wouldn't he swap the whole set?"
"Clutch won't disengage. Just an adjustment. If it were Maxwell, guaranteed he'd hit you with his three-piece special."
"Look at this dead battery. Mr. James just finds a used one, you kick in a little extra, done. That's what a real craftsman looks like."
The crowd stuck their thumbs up, nodding along.
Toby said, "Right! Mr. James, real skill, and a good man too."
"We should've come over ages ago. All these years, how much has Maxwell fleeced us for?"
Mr. James's shop stayed busy all night, and the folks in Clearfield were all kicking themselves for showing up late.
Early the next morning I packed up my tools and headed for Sunnyvale.
Passing Mr. James's shop, I saw him standing in the doorway, waving off something Geoffrey was pressing on him.
I didn't give it a second look and went on to the east end of the village.
Foreman Lawrence had been waiting a good while. The moment I climbed out he pushed a pack of cigarettes into my hand.
"Mentor Bell, take a look at this one first. No power. Keeps bogging down."
I plugged in the code reader and ran the fault codes. Nothing.
Then I popped the cover and looked things over. Four injector nozzles, all newly replaced.
I asked Foreman Lawrence, "How long ago were these nozzles changed? Did it get any better?"
He ground his teeth and slapped his thigh. "Swapped a week ago. That time the machine stalled right out in the field, white smoke pouring off it."
"I called Roland James over to check it. Without a word he put in four new nozzles."
"But after he swapped them, same problem. Worse, even. I asked him what was going on, and the son of a bitch said the engine was blown."
"Damn it!" Foreman Lawrence swore, cursing up a storm.
I let it go — whether another man's work was good or bad, I don't pass judgment.
Since there were no fault codes, the only way in was through the data stream.
This harvester was a 3.5-liter. Worked out, the intake per cylinder should run somewhere between seven hundred and eight hundred milligrams.
But right now the intake was only half that. Plenty of fuel going in, not enough air.
No wonder it had no power.
First I pulled the air filter. No blockage.
Took off the intake pipe too. No problem there.
Working through it, I found the trouble fast. The mass air-flow sensor was filthy, choked solid with oily sludge.
So the intake readings were off.
Foreman Lawrence stood there dumbstruck. "That's all it was?"
第4章
I nodded, pulled a can of solvent from my truck. "Right, it's not getting enough air, so it's got no power. Same as pinching your nose shut."
"Damn, Mentor Bell, hold on, don't do it yet, let me get this on video."
I shook my head and just went ahead, cleaned off the sensor probe with the solvent, put it back, and ran the machine. The data read normal.
The black smoke was gone, and you could feel the throttle come clean when I revved it.
Aiden swallowed hard. "Son of a bitch. This was the whole problem, and he had the nerve to charge me over four grand?"
"Take it for a spin." I clapped my hands.
Aiden climbed up, gunned the throttle, ran a full loop, and came back grinning ear to ear.
"Mentor Bell, you're the real deal! I sure as hell picked the right man!"
"You think Roland James stiffed me on purpose?"
I gave him a look. "Don't go saying that without proof. If you think there was something wrong with his repair, go get the injectors tested somewhere yourself. I can't make that call."
Aiden laughed, a little sheepish. "Right... right, that's fair. I'll get it tested later."
Once that machine was done, the other two only had minor issues.
Three machines, six hundred dollars total. To some folks that might be steep, but Aiden was more than happy.
At noon I couldn't talk my way out of it, so I stayed and ate there.
It was over the meal, listening to Aiden, that I found out. "Geoffrey Miles and Roland James are distant relatives."
"Geoffrey comes around our place all the time, running his mouth. Says you're too expensive, too crooked, tells everyone not to bring their machines to you."
"Every day it's an ad for Roland James. And Roland services Geoffrey's machines for free, never charges him a dime."
Hearing that, it clicked. No wonder every part Geoffrey needed swapped out was always a brand-new one.
Ask him and he'd say his son-in-law shipped it back to him.
And the tricky ones, the ones nobody could figure out, those he brought to me.
So that was it.
I'd barely finished eating, hadn't even had a chance to rest, when Ralph Perry called.
"Maxwell... got something to tell you."
"Yeah? What's up?"
"It's just... you remember three months back I had that motor swapped out at your place?"
I nodded. "Sure, I remember. Something wrong?"
Ralph hemmed and hawed a little. "It's acting up again. I'm over at Mr. James's place right now. He checked it. Says the motor's gone bad again."
"Maybe you could come take a look?"
Something felt off about it. That starter was a factory part. No way it goes out in three months.
"All right... I'll be right there."
Aiden asked what was going on, and when I told him, he insisted on coming with me.
"That son of a bitch. That dirty dog's out there screwing people over again for sure!"
Aiden and I got to Roland James's shop. He'd already pulled the starter out.
He greeted me with a big smile plastered on. "Mentor Bell, you made it! This starter's really shot, take a look for yourself."
I glanced at it. "Mr. James, what happened to the motor terminal? Burned up like that?"
He shrugged it off. "Ah, it wouldn't crank, so I had to force it with a wrench. Scorched it a little."
I crouched down and looked it over. On the back end of the motor, the two little screws holding the brush holder had come loose.
I could turn them by hand, and there were wrench marks on the screw heads.
Those screws are torqued at the factory. There's no way they work themselves loose.
I clapped my hands, stood up. "Mr. James, do you take me for a fool? The brush-holder screws on this starter were pulled out by hand. Since when do the screws on your starters turn loose by hand?"
The smile froze on Roland James's face, his eyes darting.