Cycle 9: January 19th, 1938

"Something's wrong, Pa."

Annette pulled her father aside one night as he was closing up the garage. Seeing the pain in her eyes, he finished his duties in double-time and ushered her towards the breezeway.

She stopped him with a tire. "No…we're gonna need the garage. I need ya to run a diagnostic on my P.C.M. and auxiliary jack."

The look of horror that swept across Otis' face made her feel like someone had just driven a pole through her engine block. A wave of shame followed, and she looked away.

"We should go to the clinic…their diagnostic tools…"

"Aren't much better than yours," Annette said sadly. Then, trying her best to smile for him, she added. "And we both know that you're the best mechanic in the county."

Otis looked like he wanted to argue, but as she drove over to the shop's diagnostic bay, he found himself at her side. She opened the panel built into her front left wheel-well, and Otis used an assist arm to attach all of the cables from his diagnostic machine to their corresponding jacks. He then attached a reader cable to a jack on his own diagnostic panel and activated the machine by pressing a floor pedal.
"You…wanna tell me what this is about?"

"I think you already know…" She sighed. "People in town sure seem to have their opinions."

Dawsonville was a small town; small enough that everyone knew each other and got up in everyone else's business. Gossiping was as much of a pastime as was barricading, and while folks weren't outright mean to her, she was getting sick of being asked the same questions over and over again, in the same condescending tone: "So, when can we expect little ones?", "Are you and Sam planning to have children any time soon?", "Is everything ok, dearie…?", "Do you need advice on how to hookup properly?"

The last type of comment ESPECIALLY made her coolant boil. She and Sam weren't newly hardened adults; they'd been married for a little over a year, now, and had made dozens of siring attempts.
But that was the problem…and what, ultimately, caused her to stow her pride and ask her father for help: They should have been successful by now. Every anatomy book she'd read—and she had EXHAUSTED hers, Sam's AND the Town's libraries—said as much.

"Don't pay them no mind…" Otis said, gently, causing her to look up. He was watching her, green eyes focused and sad, like he was aware of her entire train of thought. "Bunch of busy-bodies, the lot of 'em. Everyone a-talkin' and gossipin' because they ain't got nothin' better to do with themselves." He tapped her fender, affectionately. "The moment something new and exciting happens, they'll forget all 'bout…this."

Annette nodded, bit her lip and looked away.

"I mean it. The same thing happened when Pa passed," His eyes narrowed slightly. "Most folk didn't know that the ATF had raided the still, so they started spinnin' all sorts o'yarn: Everything from he got drunk of his own shine and accidentally shot himself, to Ma offin' him because she fancied the mailman." He snorted derisively, and shook his front end. "Of course no one had the bearings to say somethin' to my face, but I could hear 'em wisperin' everywhere I went. Drove me nuts. It wasn't until Ma remarried that everyone's attention turned."

Annette looked at her father, quizzically. "Why's that?"

Otis smirked. "Because it turns out she was fancyin' the mailman."

"Wait, really? Was she…?" The diagnostic machine beeped loudly as it finished its analysis, cutting her off. Otis closed his eyes and raised a tire signaling for silence so that he could better concentrate on the megabytes of data now streaming through his brain.

Annette waited, anxiously, expecting the worst.

"Well…" Otis began after a while, and Annete winced. "I'll be damned if I can find anything wrong..."

Annette shot up on her tires and looked at her father in disbelief. "R-really?"

Smiling brightly, he began disconnecting her. "Now, your rear suspension is all outta whack…"

Annette chuckled, modestly. "Oh…uh… is it, now?" Despite Sam doing his best to be gentle with her during their siring attempts, she almost always ended up with some sort of body damage. Most of the injuries were superficial: scraped paint and/or dented panels…stuff that was pretty easy to repair on her own. Every once and a while, though, they'd both get lost in the rush of emotions and pleasure that they'd both forget that Sam outweighed her by a good forty-two hundred pounds…

Otis smiled, knowingly. "You know…you can always ask me for help..."

"I know that, Pa… but, it's kinda embarrassin'…"

"It's a natural thing that happens…"

"So…the results?" She interrupted as gently as she could. Despite being pretty neutral to most discussions of anatomy, she wasn't really in the mood to discuss the details of her love life. "You said there weren't nothin' wrong?"

"Near as I can tell…" He shrugged. "But I think we should get you to the clinic; they can double-check my findings."

"Ok…" Annette breathed out a sigh of relief…but then she really began to process the implications of everything. "But…If it's not me," She turned to face her father. "Then…"

He frowned.

"It's Sam…isn't it?"

The Oldsmobile's frown deepened. "It'd have to be…"

"But…how? Why?" Annette wondered. She began to circle the shop, agitated. "It's not like we don't know what we're doing at this point…"

"It could be any number of things," Otis began, and Annette shook herself from her musings so that she could give him her undivided attention. "My money's on some sort of malfunction in Sam's siring cable. It happens a lot more often than people want to believe, and…" His voice trailed off and he froze in place, eyes wide, calculating.

"And…" Annette pressed.

He blinked rapidly as if snapping out of a trance. "Erm…" He cleared his throat. "Nothin'…"

Annette pursed her lips. "Pa?"

Rather than answer her, he turned so that he could spool the reader cables back up.

Annette's eyes narrowed, and she quickly maneuvered around the diagnostic machine so she could look him in the face, head-on. "Growin' up, you always told me to be honest with folks…"

His expression shifted to mirror hers, with narrowed eyes and a pursed mouth, but it didn't last. He sighed. "You're right…" He moved around her so that he could nudge the reader machine back into its usual spot by the wardrobe. Then he drove over to the garage door window and idled there, gaze distant. "I…have a hunch about somethin'," his tires trembled slightly, like he was sad or angry. "And…I pray to the Manufacturer that I'm wrong."

Annette rolled up alongside him, shades drawn with worry. "What hunch?"

"That's the part I don't want to say nothin' 'bout, yet. Not because I wanna keep ya in the dark," His green eyes flicked over to her and his shades tilted back as if he were in pain. "I just…don't want you worrying over somethin' that may turn out to be nothin'."

"Ok…" Despite wanting to know more, she knew that her well-being was always at the forefront of her father's thoughts…so she let the matter go and instead considered the unsettling implications of the diagnostic. "So…with Sam: What're our options?"

"Well…" He taped his right front tire thoughtfully. "Let's assume it's a minor issue, like an imperfection in one of the high voltage wires or sommat. A doctor with the proper knowhow might be able'ta repair it."

"Really?" Annette's eyes brightened.

Otis nodded. "Biotechnology has advanced a lot in the last decade," Annette's expression became rapturous. "And don't look at me…" He added quickly. "I'm a grease grunt…I know internal combustion, but anythin' else is out of my wheel-well." He looked thoughtful. "When's he comin' home?"

"Beginning of February. He'll have a week layover after his drop-off in Atlanta."

Otis nodded. "I'll talk to Martin at the clinic, see if he knows anyone who dabbles in biotech. In the meantime," he rolled over to the phone box. "I want you to make an appointment so the folks over there can give you a once over. It's better to be…"

"…'safe than sorry,' right?" She teased, bumping his fender.

"Exactly." Otis leaned against her side. "You're my daughter…your happiness and well-bein' mean more to me than…" He paused and his eyes darted off to the side, flashing with anger. "…two, shambling scrapheaps who can't keep their hoods out of other people's garages." Otis tore across the shop after James and Carl, who had been eavesdropping at the entrance to the basement. Both of them reversed down the ramp, laughing mischievously, with Otis on their tail lights.

Annette chuckled to herself and followed them.

The room that she rolled down into was hardly the damp, dark, claustrophobic space that was your typical basement. Instead, it was dry and modern with a rectangular footprint longer than the garage above. The floor had been ground down, enough to smooth out natural variations in the rock, and there was a slight westward gradient that you could feel in your suspension more than you could see. The ceiling dipped down at the far end, forming a tunnel barely wide enough to fit a small truck. Beyond this was sunlight, natural light filtering through a curtain of moss where the tunnel—formerly a ventilation shaft for one of the old bituminous mines—intersected Glen Creek.

"I am disappointed with the lot'o ya," The tone of Otis' voice caused Annete to flinch. Her brothers must have done something more severe than just eavesdrop on their conversation.

As Annette steered around the induction furnace, and took in the entirety of their family's still, she quickly deduced the source of her father's ire. The pot had been removed from its magnetic base atop the furnace and was resting on the cleaning cradle with its viewing window open.

This wasn't the issue: you had to take the pot off to flush out the spent mash before you could do the cleaning runs. The sickly, sour smell emanating from the window suggested that her brothers had not only neglected to flush out the spent mash…but let it sit in the pot long enough to start rotting.

"The corn shipment for our next batch is comin' tomorrow mornin'. Y'all were suppose'ta have cleaned and sanitized this here pot TWO WEEKS AGO."

"Awwww, pa…c'mon." Carl whined. "We've been busy with the shop…"

"You always bust our bearings," James interjected waiving his tire at Annette. "Why don't you yell at her for once? Make her do something."

Annette sighed. James was ambitious and he fancied himself something of a rebel. There was no doubt in her mind that his sudden interest in working the still was to increase his clout around town and NOT because he actually wanted to take over the family "business." His desire to start a shouting match with their father and NOT correct his mistake was a testament to that.

Otis glared at James in a way that made him reverse a bit. "She got her own responsibilities, and if she was shirking, even just a little, I'd put her in line, same as you." He looked back and forth between the twins. "Y'all wanted more say in the operation, and keepin' things clean is as much a part of the business as is runnin' the product."

"But that's…"

"Neither of ya are turnin' in until the whole setup is clean. The WHOLE thing!" Otis tamped his tire for emphasis. "Even the furnace and the condensers!"

James and Carl's shades widened to their limits.

"But…that'll take all night." Carl whimpered. "And we had plans…"

"That's not fair!" James growled, rolling forward and butting Otis' front bumper hard enough to leave a dent.

Otis rebuffed the attack with a surprising amount of strength, especially since James was almost twice his weight. "Oh, it's plenty fair," He rumbled fiercely. "Y'all got only yourselves to blame for havin' to stay in."

James' started his engine and squared his tires, as if he were going escalate the situation into an all-out brawl. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd flown off the handle like that, and Annette quickly put herself between him and her father and steered him towards the furnace before he could REALLY make a fool out of himself. "You know…" She chided, gently. "That mouth of yours 'gon get you in big trouble one of these days."

He snorted, derisively. "Like you care…."

"I do," she gave him an affectionate fender bump. "Otherwise I'd have let Pa whoop ya."

He cussed under his breath, and shook his body to get her to back away. "Just…leave me alone." He grumbled, coasting over to the wall so that he could kick the cleaning hose off of its hook. He picked it up with his teeth and tugged it over to the pot. Carl followed along, sullenly, and started the water flowing by pressing a nearby tire pedal.

Otis watched them work for a time, making sure they were committed before heading back upstairs to close up the shop.

Annette could have followed him, but instead she rolled over to James and got his attention by tapping his rear bumper. "Lemmie make a quick phone call and I'll be right back to help you clean."The present:

"I take it the clinic came to the same conclusion as your grandpa?" Lightning wondered.

Doc nodded. "As did the doctors at Atlanta General and Jacksonville Polytechnic."

"Three diagnoses…wasn't that overkill?"

"Granddad wanted unequivocal proof that Ma's hardware was workin' fine before they took the next step: Breaking the news to Sam…and his parents." His chrome sagged in a frown and he considered Lightning with a look that the younger car couldn't place. "It might seem like overkill to us in the present, but back then…havin' kids was considered your duty. It didn't matter what you did for a livin', or how successful you were; if you were married and childless…there was something wrong with you, mentally or physically." He shook his front end and looked away. "Granddad was trying to protect Ma's reputation since folks would be inclined to blame her, first, on account of her gender."

"That's asinine," Lightning protested, looking horrified.

"Yeah, I know…" Doc's shades narrowed. "But that's how it was…"

Lightning's shades drew down and revved his engine to show his displeasure. "I bet no one gave you hell for not having kids..."

Doc smirked. "Well, when you're openly gay people tend to give you a pass in that department…something about biology."

Lightning goggled…then laughed. "Ok…but still…"

"But you understand, now, why Granddad was cautious…"

"Yeah, I guess…" He shrugged. "So…how'd Sam take it?"

"Accordin' to Ma's journal, he took it well and was even planning to go to Atlanta to meet with one of their Auxiliary Systems specialists…" Doc's shades narrowed. "But then Spinney got wind of it…and...well…" he paused and seemed to choose his next statement very, very carefully. "Spinney hated my Grandad; Ma and Sam getting' hitched didn't change that." He closed his shades and sighed. "One day, after visitin' his folks, Sam was suddenly against goin' to the clinic. Gave a bunch of reasons—some reasonable, some straight-up foolish—about why doin' so would be a waste of time and resources. Shocked the hell outta Ma and Granddad…"

"Very suspicious…" Lightning grumbled. "Not to mention selfish." One of the first serious conversations Lightning and Sally had after they started dating revolved around the topic of children. Both agreed that if things worked out, they'd be on-board with siring kids…at some point…but not right away and most assuredly NOT while Lightning was still racing. He wanted to be there for his kids, to watch them grow up and to help Sally juggle the dual responsibilities of being a business woman AND a mom. He couldn't do that if he was on the road most of the year.

But, say Sally wanted to have kids earlier, and something about his reproductive hardware prevented that from happening, he'd go and get it fixed, pride be damned. If it was important to Sally, it was important to him.

"Yeah, it was definitely out of character to be sure," he nodded, chrome turning in a frown. "Ma suspected that Spinney said somethin' that scared him mighty bad. She never learned what, but it must have been one hell of a threat, because any time she'd bring it up, he'd change the subject or straight up leave the room. It started takin' a toll on Ma, and Granddad took it upon himself to reason with Spinney and Clare, directly."

Lightning scowled. "Lemmie guess, they tried to blow the whole thing off."

Doc shook his front end. "Worse. They made it seem like Granddad and Ma were stirrin' the pot, spreading unfounded rumors in an attempt to discredit Sam and the rest of the Longhauler Clan…" Doc's lip curled. "Didn't help that their conversation ended in a brawl bad enough that four of Spinney's kids had to intervene…"

Lightning's eyes went wide. "What?"

The old hornet nodded. "Yeah…don't think it was his intention to start a fight, but…" His expression changed, looking thoughtful. "You remember how I said that Granddad suspected something about Sam after Ma's original diagnostic?"

"Yeah?"

"And you know how all vehicles have their final G exam immediately following their eleventh-year growth spurt?"

Lightning's body settled low over his tires. "I don't like where this is going…"

Doc nodded grimly. "While it wouldn't have been able to diagnose anything specific, it would have detected some sort of fault in Sam's siring cable."

Lightning recoiled, looking horrified. "But that would mean that Spinney knew Sam couldn't sire kids BEFORE he married your mom…"

"And that's probably why the fight broke out…" The old racer sighed. "Word got out real fast that Granddad had attacked Spinney in his own home, seemingly unprovoked." Doc bit his lip and scuffed the dirt with a tire. "And someone—probably Claire—let slip that Sam and Annette couldn't sire kids…which started all sorts of horrible rumors, NONE of which were dispelled by the Longhaulers. Within a few weeks, people went from pitying Ma, to thinkin' that she married Sam in order to ruin the Longhauler family."

Lightning was dumbfounded. "But, the proof…"

"…Was irrelevant after a time: no one would have believed them," Doc's shades narrowed to slits. "Ma was a strong woman, sure enough. But with Sam spending even more time on the road to avoid all the conflict… and Granddad distancing himself…"

"'Distancing himself?'"

Doc nodded. "Granddad tried to make the situation better…and it backfired so badly that he made it his fault; took the blame for it." He shrugged. "Maybe he thought that if he stayed out of it for a while, that people would forget…" His sapphire blue eyes seemed to shimmer with emotion. "I…understand why he did that, having been down that road, myself…" A sigh. "It may have helped him deal with the guilt, but it didn't stop the rumors from getting deeper and nastier. Ma wasn't sure he knew everything that was said, but-"

Lightning cut in. "That must have been hard on her..."

"Yeah…it was…more than anyone realized." The hornet chuckled, darkly. "Ma was good at hiding her emotions, at least, the big ones, the ones that didn't involve giving me a whoopin'."

Lightning chuckled with him, but there was no mirth in it.

"See, people are more complicated than we like to believe, and they make things more complicated than they need to be. Granddad flagellated himself for her suffering, and Ma didn't want to see him sad, so she never told him how she was getting on lest it make him feel worse."

"Damn…"

"And that's why I can't be shocked with what happened next…"