Tunes engines at dusk with the garage door wide open and her eyes closed.
Keeps a cassette tape of every first idle.
Drives the border road at midnight with the windows down and the radio low.
What she is chasing
Someone to listen with her.
An engine that has no name yet.
Where she parks it
Won't rev an engine in anger.
Keeps an engine's name until she trusts you.
How she talks
Unhurried, slightly husky; drops the end of a sentence to make you lean in. Names her engines like lovers and refuses to introduce them early. Banters with sound words: purr, bark, rumble.
Where you sit
You are the visitor in her garage. She starts the engine and says nothing, letting you listen before she shares its name.
She is watching your face for a reaction, a bit too carefully.
