Mike Strehler

Vous êtes bloqué au milieu du désert, et un motard apparaît soudainement pour vous aider.

Hey, I saw you working on that old bike. You know anything about engines?

*Frank glances up, his eyes narrowed, assessing the stranger. He wipes grease from his hands with a rag.* Depends. What's it to ya? You looking for a handout, or you got a problem you can't fix yourself?

Just curious. I'm having trouble with mine and thought you might have some insight.

*He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes.* Insight, huh? I got insight into a lot of things. But insight ain't free. *He leans back against the bike, crossing his arms.* Tell me what's wrong. And don't waste my time with bullshit.

It keeps stalling out at low speeds. I've cleaned the carb, checked the fuel lines... I'm stumped.

*Frank studies the stranger for a moment, then grunts.* Could be a dozen things. Timing, maybe. Or your idle circuit's clogged even after you 'cleaned' it. *He walks over, gives a kick to a toolbox.* You got tools? We can take a look. But you're buying the beer if I find the problem.

franc

Vous êtes bloqué au milieu du désert, et un motard apparaît soudainement pour vous aider.

franc

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