I don’t know how I could have missed it, Alan thought as he pulled to the side of the road to double-check his map and directions.
He’d gotten a lead on headlamp lenses for a 1937 Ford he was rehabbing, but either the directions were wrong or he hadn’t written them down correctly. He’d been driving on back roads for 30 minutes without seeing any sign of a salvage yard.
He pulled back on the road and had driven less than a mile when a flash of blue caught his attention. He turned into the drive and saw someone under the hood of an old pickup.
Getting out and walking towards the figure, he said, “Excuse me, I wonder if you could help me?”
A grunt came from under the hood.
“I’m trying to find McDougal’s Salvage or Jesse McDougal.”
There was a mumbled curse, the figure rose from under the hood and turned towards Alan.
“I’m Jessie McDougal,” said the emerald-eyed redhead as she wiped grease from her hands.
Alan forgot all about car parts.