For Ford’s Sake

Southwest Portland 
It was a beautiful day. The weather was mild and partly cloudy, the breeze was minimal and traffic light. It was the perfect day for his classic ‘66 Ford Mustang to break down on one of the busier streets in the neighborhood. Thankfully, Jaime was able to force the car over to the side of the road with that power that always stayed deep inside him.

So here he was, on one of his only days off in a 12 day period fixing a car like some mundane. He felt inadequate at the moment and yet this was the soft of thing he loved.... but only when it was planned. Sighing softly, he shot a text to his daughter letting her know he was going to be late getting back from the store. Groceries were stored in the back trunk and would probably be half spoiled in an hour or two.

Jaime glanced in the mirror to make sure he was clear of traffic before getting out and shutting the door. He went around to the front, quickly lifting the hood and propping it up. It’s take him a few minutes to figure it out. Thankfully, he knew the car well after working on it in his free time for over a year now. Still, he didn’t want to risk getting caught red-handed with his power especially as traffic continue to zoom by.

Bennet drove along with the rag top down, enjoying the clear skies, warm breeze and winding roads. The roads made a meandering path as if to urge you not to hurry, just enjoy the glory in front of you.

The ancient '71 Citroen hugged the surface. It was old, but lovingly restored and maintained. He'd bought it in France years ago and he was very picky about when he took it out of the garage. But when he did, he felt a little of that country still lingering alongside him.

Things were going well enough. The gallery had opened and had gotten some respectable interest. Portland may not be New York or Paris, but there was a surprisingly strong artistic community. It appealed to him. The strong interest and lesser competition made this an easy city to relocate to, at least for a little while. If it didn't suit him after a time, he'd do what he always did; hand over the reins to a manager and find the next spot to land in.

Coming around a wide bend, he spotted the blinking lights of the car ahead. Feeling that it was too nice a day to spend broken down on the side of the road. No one was behind him, so he pulled over next to the other engine. "Need a hand or a ride?"

If this had been a more secluded road, Jaime would have had no problem using his power to assess the vehicle, but as it where, there were store shop cameras not far away, people driving on the road and another couple walking not too far away on the sidewalk. They were out enjoying the weather and Jaime couldn't blame them. That's what he wanted to do too after he got home and put the groceries away.

Jaime was just getting into the trunk of the car to see what mundane tools he had to fix the car up when another car pulled up to the side of him. He whistled, admiring the restored beauty as he walked around to the passenger side. He bent, peering in the window.

"How about a lift? My house isn't too far from here and I can go to it to pick up some tools and come back and fix her up," he said, speaking with the confidence of a surgeon who knew what he needed to do. "Would you mind?" he asked, offering the man a polite smile all while wiping his hands on a white (now smudge with grease and oil) towel he grabbed from the trunk.

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