Abe Allen was tired after the trip and had a lot of duties in the stable. Steve Paxton's car, crashed during the race, was no longer serviceable, but parts of it were too valuable to be left for vultures foraging in the junkyard. That's why the whole car was packed in a container, secured and now transported to their base, where Abe will check exactly what else can be saved from it.
The call he got, however, made Allen quit all his work and come to that old car repair shop in a poor neighborhood. The shop hadn't changed at all, except that its once-red sign was now so faded that it was hard to recognize the color.
This place evoked memories. Lots of memories. Lots of good, some bad. Memories that to Abe were distant past.
Allen walked into the garage and saw a nice old '88 convertible. A real antique. A real beauty.
"So this is where my boy works now," Abe nodded, smiling sentimentally.
