My Daughter, the Mechanic

This is my entry for the Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2023. Thanks to SirHugs for the title suggestion which was enough to start the imagination.

===

"Hi Dad, watcha doing with the Y-block?"

Mick smiled at his daughter's voice behind him. "Hi Poppy. You're the whiz-bang mechanic. You tell me."

Sarah leaned over her dad's shoulder and looked at the freshly honed bores. Frowning, she picked up a vernier calliper and carefully measured the hole. Straightening up, she said, "Looks like a sixty thou overbore on a 272, and with those aluminium heads over on the bench I'd say someone's getting a nice engine for Christmas. You checking the hone marks?"

"Yep. And got it in one. Old Nev's finally decided to do up his Customline. You remember Nev?"

Sarah nodded. "He's got that '58 with the Ford-o-matic. His dad bought it new, then gave it to him back in the 70s. Wasn't that one of your first rebuilds? Nice car, but it was blowing more smoke than Puffing Billy."

"That's it. While the engine's out, he wanted to warm it up a bit, put in a C4, disc brakes, power steering and some suspension."

"A repaint? And why not take it out to a 292? Should be enough meat in the block."

"Nah. Keeping the slightly weathered look, and he just wants it nicer to drive for him and his grandkids. He reckons he's too old for drag racing."

"Fair enough. That'll be a nice ride. Glad he's not going to paint it. It's got character."

"True. Not many around with the original red and white tricolour paint job. Anyway," Mick said, turning off the torch he had been using to examine the engine and waved her towards the tearoom, "Cuppa?"

"Yes please, but I'm intrigued why you asked me here, all mysterious like."

"Yeah. About that..." Mick made them both a mug of coffee and sat at the table.

Sarah was nervous. Whatever he wanted, it had to be big. It was rare that he ever made coffee for anyone, and it usually preceded bad news. She sat and took a sip of the awful instant coffee that had been a staple of her dad's workshop as long as she could remember.

"I've decided to sell this place and move."

Sarah looked over her mug and raised her eyebrows. This was big news. Her dad had been adamant he would never sell his shed, his happy place. "Oh? Didn't expect that. Why?"

Mick shrugged. "A developer offered me a silly amount of cash, plus a big discount on a factory he's building about five minutes away. I know he's been talking to the others in the area, so I reckon he's trying to buy everything around here for a big development. Seeming you've decided to become a mechanical engineer and not take over the business, I might as well move to somewhere less breezy in winter. Anyway, the new place is about the same floor area but no room out the back to store vehicles..."

"Junk. And I want to work for a Supercars team." Sarah corrected.

"Spares. I know. Don't blame you. I would too, given half a chance."

"Junk. Not having room for your so-called spares isn't a bad thing. The rest sounds good. What's the catch?"

"Well, there's something else. Not really a catch though. We have to move by Christmas, and Bob's going to retire at the same time."

Sarah slowly lowered her mug. "You're kidding. Retiring? Seriously? Wow. That's no good. The place won't be the same without him."

"Geez, I thought having to move would be upsetting, not Bob going."

"But I like Bob. He's practically family. He taught me how to soup up my first go kart, and how to drive it properly. You're not really going anywhere."

"Hmph. Thanks kiddo, that makes me feel soooo wonderful."

Sarah poked out her tongue and blew her dad a raspberry. "Oh, you know I love you. Wow, that is some huge news. So are you having a farewell party for Bob and this place?"

"Guess so. Haven't really thought about it." He sat back and scratched his head. "I suppose we can set up the barbie out the back, invite a few of his friends and our best customers over, crack a few beers and spin some yarns."

"Yeah, Bob loves telling a story." Sarah looked around. "Speaking of Bob, where is he?"

"Gone to look at a new car transporter. He plans to travel around race tracks either as a volunteer scrutineer or racing in super sedans. Should be back in an hour or so."

Sarah laughed. "He started on the racetrack, he'll end on the racetrack. Hmm, maybe that could be the theme for the barbie. Get together some old race car bits for display, maybe run some videos on the tele."

"That's not a bad idea. Bob loves talking about his time at the track." Mick swirled his coffee around his old enamel mug. "Look, I'm going to be busy getting things in order here. Could I please leave that to you? If you don't mind?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. I'll have a chat to Bob and try to pull some stories out of him. Not that he needs much prodding."

"True. Tell you what, he's got some stories he'll never have told you before. See if you can pull those out. They'll make your hair curl."

===

"Can't believe you're retiring. How long have you been with Dad? As long as I've been alive."

Bob nodded and tapped the ash from his cigarette into an upturned piston. "Started in '93. You came along in what, '95?"

"Close, early '96."

"There you go. Twenty seven years old. Where's the time gone?"

"Well, for me, go karts, Formula Fords, then uni. What about you?"

"Oh, this and that. Nothing special, just the odd job here and there until I figured your dad needed some serious help running this joint." Bob took a deep draw from his smoke and tried to stifle a cough. "Bloody hell, that's getting annoying."

"Must have been more than the odd job, looking at some of the photos above your workbench. Plus, you really knew how to wring the most out of my FF. Look," she said, trying to get past his shell, "you've been here forever but I don't really know much about you pre-here and now you're going. You're a big part of my family, Unca Bobs. I really want to know what cool and stupid things you've done in the past and what's your plan for retirement. Dad said you plan to follow the Super Sedan circuit. If that's true, I want to meet up now and then."

Bob sighed and ground his butt into the piston. "Fair enough, I guess. I just don't think my past is all that interesting. Grew up on a farm outside Yackandandah, tinkered with old junked cars, got a job with the local mechanic. Not really any apprenticeships in those days, you just dug in and did things. Bounced around from place to place, and managed to get some work with race outfits." He lit another smoke, then started a deep, hacking cough. "Fuck... Oh, sorry Sarah."

She waved away his concern about his language. "I'm a big girl Bob. Nothing I haven't heard before, but are sure you're alright? That's a wicked cough."

"Actually, don't tell anyone, especially your dad. Not yet. I don't want to put this on you, but I have to let someone know just in case things go really pear shaped." He held up his cigarette by the filter. "These aren't called cancer sticks for nothing."

"Shit."

"Yeah. That's pretty much what I said."

"Bad?"

"Is there a good version?"

"No, I guess not. I'm sorry Bob. I... Umm, sorry."

He shrugged and butted out his smoke. "Thanks. Look, it's fine. It's a shit way to go, but I've had a hell of a good life so far, and I plan to make the most of the rest. Your dad selling up just gave me the shove I needed. Anyway," he said with a sigh, "sad to say, but I've still outlived a lot of people better than me in this game who've died far too young off the track. Sabine Schmitz - great driver, and I wouldn't have minded taking her out for a spin if you don't mind me saying, Graham Hill - airplane crash of all things, James Hunt - best driver I've ever met, Garrie Cooper - that guy was a bloody brilliant designer. Wasted in Adelaide. Probably others, but I forget. Getting old."

Sarah slowly nodded, then stopped. She stared at Bob. "Hang on. Did you say you met James Hunt? The F1 driver James Hunt? The James Hunt from the movie 'Rush' James Hunt? Hunt the Shunt, Hunt?"

"That's him. For a Pom, he was ok. Couldn't believe it when I heard he'd died of a heart attack. I was sure it would have been syphilis."

"But... Where? How? I mean, did you do a trip to Europe or something?"

"Yeah, nah, nothing so exciting. I was working with Elfin back in '78 and some joker at Winton decided it would be a good idea to throw a bucket load of money at him to drive at a F5000 race there. They asked us to provide a competitive car and the pit crew. I was lucky enough to go along."

"Why is this the first time I've heard of this? I've heard all sorts of stories from you, but you forgot to mention you crewed for a legend of the F1 world?" Sarah exclaimed. "Wow. That's awesome. What was he like?"

Bob stood to make himself a coffee. "You want one?"

Sarah shook her head.

"As a driver, brilliant. He drove that thing beautifully and each time he pitted after a test lap, he gave us crystal clear instructions on what we needed to do to improve the car. He blitzed the field, and the car came back like it had never touched the track."

"And what about his... partying? He was pretty wild, from what the movie said."

"Oh, you have no idea. He was something else. I mean, he had the looks, the attitude, charisma in buckets. Women just flocked to him. His son reckons he slept with around five thousand women. That's just staggering and completely believable. I don't know where he got the time or energy." Bob chuckled and smiled at the memory. "He was pretty generous too. He made sure we were all looked after, on and off the track. Reckoned we made him look good. It was bullshit, but it made us feel pretty special. He could have won Winton racing a billy cart."

"Wish I could have seen that race. Winton's tricky enough in my Ford. How he managed to push a five litre monster around the old short track would have been something to see. And having the chance to talk to him. That would have been amazing."

"Yeah, he was very happy to chat about race craft, but believe me after five minutes you would not have been talking about tyre pressures. He just had that effect on women."

"I'm not some starry eyed track slut. I'm sure I would have been able to keep it professional."

"Language... And I doubt it." Bob took a sip of coffee and weighed up his next words. "Look, I suppose you're old enough for me to be a bit rougher with my stories, and you've hung around the tracks so there's nothing I'm going to say that should shock you. You being a racer is precisely why after five minutes you would have been naked in the back of his limo getting it on with James. It happened more than once and with more than one at a time. I watched it. Couldn't believe it. Grid girls, track marshalls, spectators, anyone under thirty and pretty was fair game for him."

"Anyway, I still doubt I'd do that but I guess we'll never know. That sort of thing just wouldn't happen nowadays."

"True. Now drivers are all drinking their protein shakes, running marathons and going to sleep by ten instead of giving a protein shot, horizontal dancing and partying all night." Bob looked past Sarah, a wistful look on his face. "Things had to change, and we had some good end of season do's, but the one after that Winton race was something else."

"What, at the track? Or in Benalla? Can't see James kicking on at the Farmers Arms."

That made Bob laugh. "Yeah, although as long as there was women and grog, I think he would have been happy anywhere. No, he went back to Melbourne after he signed a few autographs, shook some hands and took care of some of that other business. Thing was, he invited us all back to his hotel to party on there."

"Really? That was nice of him."

"Yeah, but I think it was an act of self preservation. He had a suite in the old Southern Cross hotel, and when we got there, it was packed. He'd asked us to roll up in our white overalls and when the four of us arrived, he pointed us out and said we were the best crew he'd ever had, and he would be grateful to anyone who'd show us a good time."

"You're kidding. And?"

"We were swamped. We didn't know what hit us. Like, none of us were, umm, unpractised, but we normally had to work at getting something happening. Suddenly, I think it was like eight, maybe ten women launched themselves at us. Scared me shitless. Didn't know what was happening."

Sarah burst out laughing. "Oh, that's funny. Four tough mechanics frightened by a bunch of horny women."

"If I may be a bit blunt, what would you think if a bunch of horny guys came rampaging towards you wanting just one thing? Those women were feral. Gorgeous, but completely off the chain. Anyway, James had rented a couple of extra rooms, so we headed off for a very, very good time." Bob sipped his coffee and smiled at Sarah. "Never told anyone that, not even your dad. Bloody hell, what a night. Just when I thought I was done, another bird would come along and charge me back up, then I'd be off to the races again."

"Sorry for poking fun at you Bob. I see your point, but it was a funny image. Very Benny Hill-ish. Four mechanics being chased down a hall by a bunch of scantily clad women to that theme tune."

"Yeah, guess that would seem pretty funny. Anyway, a very good night was had by all and I doubt I'll ever see anything like that again. More's the pity. Nevermind." Bob finished his coffee and stood. "Well, kiddo, thanks for the chat. I'd better talk to your dad and see what he wants to do about my old workbench. Can't see him wanting to lug that lump of firewood to the new joint."

"No worries Bob. And thanks for being up front with me. About everything. I'll keep it quiet until you tell me it's ok."

===

"A barbeque - sure. A bonfire using his old bench - ok, I can see that. But you want to do what???"

"Take him back to the '70s. Specifically, the '78 Rose City 10000 at Winton. That was the highlight of his racing career, driving or crewing," Sarah said.

"I get that bit. I get we can paint your car in similar livery to Hunt's Elfin. I get you've got a couple of friends that are happy to dress up as grid girls from the day and waitress for us, but then to have them... available to everyone? Are you nuts? Where did you get such an idea? And what would Bob think of it? Seriously, Sarah."

Wounded, Sarah said defensively, "I think it's a good idea, and I got it from Bob. Sort of. He's, well, got a lot on his mind and opened up to me a bit more than normal. Bob told me some of the things he got up to, and you're right. He didn't go into the fine details, but it was pretty out there. I just think it's the right thing to do. For him. Our friend and almost family."

"I don't know. If your friends are that keen, why not just introduce the pair to him and let things go the natural way?" Mick rubbed his temples and slowly shook his head. "This'll be hard to put on the invitation."

"I thought about that, but Jax and Cindy said they'd prefer to work outside with everyone. They like performing for a crowd. Working with one guy doesn't do anything for them."

"But... I was going to invite some women. What'll they think?"

"I'm a woman and I think it's a great idea. Bob'll love it. Just put on the invite there'll be very adult entertainment on the night. Everyone should get the hint, or at least call to ask what's going on."

"I know you're a woman, but sometimes I really worry about you and your wild streak, Poppy. What would your mum think?"

"I got that streak from you, and she's in Noosa with her new dipshit husband. I don't care." Sarah crossed her arms and glared at her dad. "So, are we going with the full gang bang or just having the girls wander around? Either way, it doesn't matter. I have to keep their cars on the road for the next twelve months."

Mick sighed and rubbed his head again with his fingers. Moving thirty years of accumulated items was nothing to dealing with the ideas his daughter was coming up with for Bob's retirement. "Fine, fine. I really don't like it, but you seem to be set on it for some reason. Just try to keep it reasonably tasteful, ok?"

"Of course. Cindy said they get quite a few women watching their very tasteful act at the club." Sarah kissed her dad's cheek. "Good choice. Would you like me to call everyone and let them know exactly what's going to happen?"

"I think that's a very good idea."

===

Jax picked up a screwdriver and ran her fingers over the handle. "Look, it's no worries Mick. Saz explained what the deal was, and we're happy to help. Honestly, we owe her big time for keeping our shit boxes roadworthy. I'd be screwed without a car, no pun intended. There's no buses where I live. I think this'll be your limit, Cind."

Cindy took the screwdriver and put it in her mouth. She ran her tongue over it, nodded, and placed it on a clean towel with other tools that had passed their examination. "I'd say so. Certainly for anal. Nice and smooth though. Quality tools." The little blond turned a radiant smile onto Mick, who immediately melted. "Do you have any tiny alligator clips? You know, for hooking onto wiring? They're great for clipping onto our nipples and labia."

"Umm, yeah, I'm sure I can find a new set. Back in a tick." Mick wandered off mumbling, "I cannot believe I agreed to this. What the hell was I thinking?"

"Your dad seems a bit tense about this. Should we do something to relax him?" Jax asked.

"Up to you. I don't think he's been on a date since mum left. Personally, I really don't want to be around if you make something happen. Seeing my dad's willy just seems... icky."

Jax and Cindy laughed and went back to examining tools to use in their show. The three had discussed Mick's concerns, and decided that a lesbian floor show during dinner would be a good icebreaker. Cindy said she noticed that most women visiting the club were ok with girl on girl action, but if they invited an average guy from the audience on stage, the women didn't seem to be as interested. They figured working each other over with some selected workshop tools would keep to the night's theme and make things different for everyone's enjoyment.

Bob's old bench would be their stage. It was a large, solid timber structure Bob had built himself when he first arrived. It had seen many things on it, but the women were pretty sure this would be new. After their lesbian act, Jax and Cindy would accept all comers.

"Here you go Cindy. Brand new, just out of a multimeter I bought. Hope they're ok." Mick dropped a pair of shiny, sharp toothed alligator clips into her hand.

"Thanks." Cindy took one and bit the meat between her thumb and forefinger. "Ooo, geez. They are bitey. Jax, do you want to test them?"

"Sure." Jax took the clips and went to place one on her hand, then she stopped. "No time like the present. Mick, can you hang on to these for a sec?"

"Sure."

"Ta." She dropped the clips into Mick's hand, quickly removed her tee shirt and bra, then pinched her nipples. "Ok, can you carefully put one of those on me while I stretch my tits? It's hard to do everything by myself."

Mick stared at the nice handful of mid-20s tit flesh in front of him. He unconsciously licked his lips and dragged his eyes to his daughter's friend's face. "You sure? They'll hurt."

Jax shrugged, which made her boobs deliciously wobble. "I know. I don't mind a bit of pain in the right circumstances. Sharpens the mind."

"Well, if you say so. Personally, I wouldn't want these anywhere near my sensitive bits."

Jax just smiled and pressed her breast down with one hand and stretched her nipple with the other. "When I'm excited, they pop up more. Just carefully let them close, but I'll tell you if it's too much."