White Niggers
Chapter 16
Sunday, August 18th, 2019, 10:00
Vehicle repair shop, Ausstellungsstraße 71, 2nd district of Vienna
Timur sips Kardamom coffee from a little mug and looks around the workshop. Ali introduced him to its owner earlier.
Timur stands next to the door of what the auto mechanic called the "frontier." On one side, there is the world of coffee, Baklava, and "Blue Camel" playing from an old Grundig radio.
On the other side, there is the dark sultanate of motor fuel and grease which emanates from machines and people who fix them. In the dimly-lit workshop, the portrait of a man with a stern glance shines like the moon at night. Could be Atatürk, or a relative of the mechanic.
At a distance there is an old Willys MB jeep. If he can make that relic drive, he surely can fix the van, Timur thinks.
In front of him, the mechanic is inspecting Timur's van. Timur finishes his coffee and walks towards the van.
The mechanic turns the key in the ignition switch. He is a Middle Easterner with olive skin tone and dark, slightly tousled hair. He wears cargo pants and a utility vest over a white T-shirt.
The dashboard lights switch on.
"There aren't any issues with the wires," the mechanic says. "That's a good sign."
He gazes at Timur with his deep brown eyes, an intense stare that seems to vie for sternness with the man in the picture on the wall. He looks like someone who got himself out of trouble, but not the trouble out of his eyes. Ali didn't tell Timur what that trouble was, and Timur isn't eager to find out.
"What could it be?" Timur says.
"We'll find out," the mechanic says.
He opens the hood. Then he cleans the battery terminals using a cloth with the number 42 printed on it.
"The battery posts aren't rusty," the mechanic says. "So it's not that… hand me that multimeter, please."
Timur gives him an orange device with a display at the top, a selector dial and two probes connected with a black and red wire.
The mechanic puts the probes on the battery terminals.
"12.7 volts," the mechanic says. "The battery is fine as well."
The mechanic shuts the hood and walks around the workshop. He looks at Timur, looks at the portrait of the stern man.
"You know what?" The mechanic says. "Give me the key."
He takes the key from Timur and inserts the key into the ignition.
"Didn't we already test it?" Timur says.
"Not like this," the mechanic says.
He turns the key and the dashboard lights up. Then he wiggles the key and the lights go off.
"You see?" The autmechanic says. "When I wiggle the key, it turns off."
"What does it mean?" Timur says.
"You need to replace the ignition switch," the mechanic says.
"Do you have one?" Timur says.
"No, you'll have to order one from Germany," the mechanic says. "I'm running an auto repair shop here, not a museum."