What Freedom Means. (8)
The next three months were a blur of activity and education. The car and bike pretty much were worked on at the same time. the bike needed a new head, and later a new tank as the old one was cracked when I took it off in order to get it repainted, along with a new chain and a clutch re-build. The car's engine was fine along with the drive train, it just needed a good tune up and a fuel system flush after sitting for two years. It also needed new hoses and other minor things, but the major thing that the car needed I could not do: It needed a paint job and a lot of interior work done. Between the mechanical tasks I looked for a few good shops that could help me out. I settled on two finally after a day's worth of calling various places in the phone directory until I found the places I was looking for. With Jack's help I got pictures of the interior in order to get a quote on what it would take to restore it, and I presented the final bids to Jeff, who signed off on them within two days. I got done with the mechanicals on the car first (as it was generally in better shape), and had a flatbed take it to the body shop for the rest of the work needed on it. I then focused on the bike.
Along with that work, I was also trained on how to drive and received a license along with Jack and Tal'ena. That and some other property maintenance tasks kept me busy throughout the day time. Tal'ena kept me busy at nights with dishes and the social aspects of my training. At the end of two months, I definitely had feelings for her. I was honored by her returning those feelings. In addition, Jeff dropped in once a week with updates on the hearing process when relevant, and also to see what progress I had made. For a person who ran the entire department, I thought he was taking a lot of time for me, and I told him as such. He countered by saying, "Running the department is very simple and easy. Most of the people under me do the actual work of running the place. I have to shoulder the big decisions, and I also take on cases from time to time, in order to remind myself of why I do this. Your case is special in other ways. We have not had an actual abuse case come up in about two years. By and large, most owners know the dollar value that they have invested in their morphs, and they treat them very well. In addition, we are looking into something that could be much, much larger then anything anyone has known. I can't say much more about it, though.
Near the end of the third month, the car came back. It was beautiful. The paint shop had managed to find a spot on the car to color match from, and had matched the original color and finish perfectly. What dropped everyone's jaw was the immaculate work done on the interior. The car looks like it had just rolled off the line. There were a few changes, of course: the power steering on the car was an retrofit from one of the 1960's model year Impalas, and the radio looked original, until you discovered that it had FM and a cleverly hidden CD changer under the seat. The next day the new tank for the bike came back, and I was able to start and run the bike for the first time in a long while. It too, ran and looked great. We had asked Jeff to come out to look at the two cars, and he brought a couple of people with him when he did. I recognized Wendy right away, but the other person I did not. He looked at the car and the bike for quite a while and took plenty of notes. Finally, We walked over to where Jeff and I were chatting. Jeff introduced me to him as an appraiser for one of the local auction houses that dealt with classic cars regularly. The appraiser made it short, and stated that the car could fetch anywhere between 30 to 60 thousand at an auction. The bike was not worth much, though, at most 3 thousand. Jeff thanked him and he left. Jeff then asked me if it was OK that we auctioned the car off. "It's not mine, sir. I was merely the one who restored it. If anything Jack might be more interested in what happens to it." Jack was standing about five feet away and came over at the mention of his name. Jeff talked to him briefly about the car, and we came to the conclusion that it would be auctioned. The bike was mine, however. I thanked Jeff for this gift, and he shook his head, saying it was 'partial payment' for the restoration work on the car. I figured that was the end of the trip for me, but what happened next was just the beginning of the real ride.