He listened.
“Damn computers,” Elias muttered, wiping his oily hands on a rag that was more grease than cloth.
"The TS100’s left rear fender has a dent shaped like a bowling ball. That’s from 1994, when your Uncle Jim bet me I couldn't toss a frozen turkey from the barn door into the bucket. I won the bet. Lost the fender. Don’t fix it."
Love, Dad