Page 2 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Mechanic

“Go check if the battery’s seated. If it is, check the connection port for corrosion. Little metal contacts where the battery meets the frame. They’ll look green or crusty if there’s buildup.”

“Green or crusty. Got it.”

“Then check the display unit. There’s a small button on the side, not the main power button. A reset. You’d need something thin to press it. A paperclip.”

“I feel like you’re sending me on a quest.”

“I’m trying to figure out if you actually need a repair or if the battery’s just loose.”

“That’s fair,” I say. “That’s completely fair. Okay. I’ll go do all of that and call you back.”

“Or you could just bring it in.”

“To you?”

“To the shop. If the battery check doesn’t fix it, it’s probably the controller board, and that’s not something you’re going to diagnose in a back room with a paperclip.”

“Where’s your shop?”

“On Prospect Street. Meyer’s Auto and Equipment.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and look at the sticky note. The number I’ve dialed is one digit off from what Kendall wrote. Her seven looks like a one. Or her one looks like a seven. Either way, I’ve called the wrong place entirely.

I put the phone back. “So you’re not the e-bike repair guy.”

“I’m a mechanic.”

“But not our mechanic. Not the one we usually call.”

“Apparently not.”

“I just called a random mechanic and described a green bicycle to him.”

“You did.”

The laugh comes out before I can stop it. I press my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. The sound is already out there, bouncing off the old stone walls of the courtyard.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “Your seven looks like a one. Or someone’s seven looks like a one. The point is, I dialed wrong, and I’ve been wasting your time.”

“You have.”

“And you just walked me through an entire diagnostic anyway.”

He doesn’t respond to that, which feels like its own answer.

“Well,” I say. “Thank you. For the free consultation. I’ll try the battery thing and if that doesn’t work, I’ll call the actual repair guy.”

“Or you could bring it to me.”

I stop. “What?”

“I said you could bring it in. I work on equipment. E-bikes are equipment.”

“You just told me I wasted your time.”

“You did waste my time. But the bike still has a problem.”

I don’t know what to say to that, which almost never happens to me. I’m the girl who always has something to say, who can fill any silence, who keeps conversation going the way some people keep plants alive. Just naturally. Without thinking about it.