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(Spoilers)

This  story should span several years, although there will be time jumps between chapters.  We'll see the Ford slowly get put back together and we'll get to watch Tammy enter her teenage years.  There's a bit of a stretch on the suspension of disbelief in this chapter since it's going to be introduced that Tammy's mother is aware of the nature of her daughter's relationship with Steve, however, she's allowing it to continue because: 1) Tammy's attitude at home and school has shown a marked improvement. 2) It gives mom more alone time with her BF, who isn't fond of having Tammy around anyway.  Mom has put herself into a position of "plausible deniability" about the relationship.  As long as nothing bad happens (pregnancy, disease, injury, etc) she'll stay in that position.  ", "writing": "I spun off the wingnut for the air filter, lifted the entire assembly off, and peered into the carburetor. I adjusted the trouble light before manually pushing the idle. The choke plate swung open smoothly, accompanied by the odor of gasoline. This was the third time we’d rebuilt the damn thing and I wasn’t sure why it wouldn’t work. Everything appeared to be in order and these old inline 240’s tend to be bulletproof. It should run, but it won’t. I tightened the wires leading from the spark-plugs to the distributor cap and they all appeared snug. Perhaps it was flooded. I spritzed a bit of starting fluid in and stepped back from the truck.\n\n“This time push the pedal to the floor as you turn the key.” I said.\n\nBehind the steering wheel Tammy could barely see over the dashboard. “Okay!” She shouted back. The engine started to spin. \n\nRrrwrrwrrwrr-chug!\n\nStill not catching, but getting closer.\n\n“Keep it up!” I shouted over the whine of the starter. We were on the second battery, having killed the first one after numerous attempts. We were both pretty daunted and it was getting late in the day, but we refused to give up. I hated to bring in any professional help at this point since it was an issue of pride between Tammy and I that we were doing this ourselves. Not to mention getting the engine running was supposed to be the easy part. I leaned into the bay as close as I dared and fired a long shot of fluid directly into the carb as the engine spun. \n\nRrrwrrwrrwrr-chug-chug-Whoosh!\n\nI jumped back as a gout of fire spit out of the carburetor and the engine roared. A puff of smoke billowed out from under the truck, for the first time in over twenty years the old F-100 came back to life. Which lasted about three seconds before it stalled out. Tammy gripped the steering wheel tightly and her face beamed.\n\n“Steve! It started!” She said excitedly and waved the smoke away as it drifted up from the undercarriage. “It’s so loud and smoky!” \n\n“Yeah, it needs an exhaust.” I told her. “Crank her up again and let’s see if we can keep her running and burn out that gas and oil.”\n\nThe truck fired up easier the second time, but after a few seconds it started to chug. \n\n“Give it a little gas!” I loudly advised her. She did and the motor smoothed out. After a few moments the old jalopy was running without assistance. \n\n“Alright!” I coughed as I took the polar bear cub by the arm and pulled her out of the cab. “Let’s step outside of the garage before this kills us.” \n\nWe stood side by side outside the garage door and watched the fruit of our labors spit smoke from a safe distance. Tammy stood with her greasy paws over her ears, grinning widely. She was wearing a coverall with her name embroidered over the left chest pocket. A suit I had bought for her to keep her clothes and fur clean. Outside the fact that she insisted it be pink, she looked properly the part of a mechanic. \n\nShe looked up at me. “Did you see that fireball?”\n\n“See it?” I grinned at her. “It almost burned the fur off my face.” \n\nTammy looked at the truck with its hood up, engine running, and smoke wafting out. “It’s like a dragon in a cave.” She noted, and her face lit up with inspiration. “That’s what we should name it! The Dragon! Oh! The Pink Dragon!” \n\n“You’re really set on pink, aren’t you?”\n\n“Pink is cool.” She insisted, sticking her tongue out between her front teeth. A habit that she wasn’t going to do for much longer as the incoming adult teeth were nearly taking up the space. \n\nAfter a few moments the engine started to spit less smoke and it settled into a smooth idle. As smooth as a fifty-year-old motor without an exhaust was capable of, at least. \n\n“Running like a champ now.” I observed. \n\nTammy flung her arms around my waist. “We did it!” The cub had been getting discouraged after so many failed attempts, but now she was absolutely thrilled to witness some actual headway. We still had a long way to go before the Ford was even remotely drivable, but this was a major milestone. \n\n“As I live and breathe!” I turned to the voice and saw my neighbor leaning on the fence. He was an older leopard with a kindly and grayed face. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear that thing run.” \n\n“Hey, Paul.” I greeted him.\n\nThe leopard nodded. “Steve.” He glanced down at Tammy. “There’s the little grease monkey! Did you get your uncle’s truck running?” \n\n“Yep!” Tammy told him proudly. Paul lived under the delusion that Tammy was my sister’s adopted daughter who stayed with me some weekends. A mistake I have no intention of correcting. \n\n“Well, I’m happy you finally got somewhere with that thing,” Paul said, “but it’s really loud and it’s getting a little late, don’t you think?” \n\n“Yeah, sorry about that.” I looked down at Tammy. “Let’s call it for today. Go shut it off and close up the garage.” \n\n“Sure!” Tammy ran into the garage and turned off the truck, but not before giving it a few revs for good measure. \n\nPaul chuckled. “She’s a good kid.” \n\n“Yes, she is.” I said proudly. \n\n“It’s nice you’re keeping her out of trouble and teaching her a trade.” He told me. “Cubs these days really need that positive influence. So many of them are getting into just awful stuff… drugs, sex, pornography, gangs… I blame yip-hop music.” \n\nI smirked. “I’m doing my best.” There was no reason to tell him that Tammy loves yip-hop. \n\n“Well, I’ll get back to my shows.” Paul said with a wave of his paw as he turned back to his house. “Good work on the truck.”\n\n“Goodnight, Paul.” I called after him. \n\nTammy ran up to me and grabbed my paw. “Let's go inside!” She insisted. \n\n“What’s the rush?” I asked as she pulled me toward the house, gripping me with both paws.\n\n“Just hurry!” \n\nAs soon as the door closed behind me Tammy grabbed the front of my shirt, tugging on it firmly. “Kiss me!” She demanded. \n\n“Don’t you want to get cleaned up first?” I teased, knowing the desperate look on her face. She had been in her father’s custody the previous weekend and this was to be our first night together in quite a while. My little girlfriend was seriously pent-up. \n\n“No! Don’t tease!” The cub pulled on my shirt and stood on her tiptoes. “The rumbly truck made me really need cummies!” \n\nI reached down and picked her up. Tammy latched her paws behind my neck and wrapped her legs around me as best she could. I put my paws under her rump to support her. She has become a much better kisser. I suppose I could say it was my tutelage, but that would be selling her short. She instinctively adjusted to me, and I suppose I also did to her. \n\n(Sorry, that's all I have Ford you right now)\n\n\n\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "I spun off the wingnut for the air filter, lifted the entire assembly off, and peered into the carburetor.  I adjusted the trouble light before manually pushing the idle.  The choke plate swung open smoothly, accompanied by the odor of gasoline.  This was the third time we’d rebuilt the damn thing and I wasn’t sure why it wouldn’t work.  Everything appeared to be in order and these old inline 240’s tend to be bulletproof.  It should run, but it won’t.  I tightened the wires leading from the spark-plugs to the distributor cap and they all appeared snug.  Perhaps it was flooded.  I spritzed a bit of starting fluid in and stepped back from the truck.

“This time push the pedal to the floor as you turn the key.”  I said.

Behind the steering wheel Tammy could barely see over the dashboard.  “Okay!”  She shouted back.  The engine started to spin.  

Rrrwrrwrrwrr-chug!

Still not catching, but getting closer.

“Keep it up!”  I shouted over the whine of the starter.  We were on the second battery, having killed the first one after numerous attempts.  We were both pretty daunted and it was getting late in the day, but we refused to give up.  I hated to bring in any professional help at this point since it was an issue of pride between Tammy and I that we were doing this ourselves.  Not to mention getting the engine running was supposed to be the easy part.  I leaned into the bay as close as I dared and fired a long shot of fluid directly into the carb as the engine spun.  

Rrrwrrwrrwrr-chug-chug-Whoosh!

I jumped back as a gout of fire spit out of the carburetor and the engine roared.  A puff of smoke billowed out from under the truck, for the first time in over twenty years the old F-100 came back to life.  Which lasted about three seconds before it stalled out.  Tammy gripped the steering wheel tightly and her face beamed.

“Steve!  It started!”  She said excitedly and waved the smoke away as it drifted up from the undercarriage.  “It’s so loud and smoky!”  

“Yeah, it needs an exhaust.”  I told her.  “Crank her up again and let’s see if we can keep her running and burn out that gas and oil.”

The truck fired up easier the second time, but after a few seconds it started to chug.  

“Give it a little gas!”  I loudly advised her.  She did and the motor smoothed out.  After a few moments the old jalopy was running without assistance.  

“Alright!”  I coughed as I took the polar bear cub by the arm and pulled her out of the cab.  “Let’s step outside of the garage before this kills us.”  

We stood side by side outside the garage door and watched the fruit of our labors spit smoke from a safe distance.  Tammy stood with her greasy paws over her ears, grinning widely.  She was wearing a coverall with her name embroidered over the left chest pocket.  A suit I had bought for her to keep her clothes and fur clean.  Outside the fact that she insisted it be pink, she looked properly the part of a mechanic.  

She looked up at me.  “Did you see that fireball?”

“See it?”  I grinned at her.  “It almost burned the fur off my face.”  

Tammy looked at the truck with its hood up, engine running, and smoke wafting out.  “It’s like a dragon in a cave.”  She noted, and her face lit up with inspiration.  “That’s what we should name it!  The Dragon!  Oh!  The Pink Dragon!”  

“You’re really set on pink, aren’t you?”

“Pink is cool.”  She insisted, sticking her tongue out between her front teeth.  A habit that she wasn’t going to do for much longer as the incoming adult teeth were nearly taking up the space.  

After a few moments the engine started to spit less smoke and it settled into a smooth idle.  As smooth as a fifty-year-old motor without an exhaust was capable of, at least.  

“Running like a champ now.”  I observed.  

Tammy flung her arms around my waist.  “We did it!”  The cub had been getting discouraged after so many failed attempts, but now she was absolutely thrilled to witness some actual headway. We still had a long way to go before the Ford was even remotely drivable, but this was a major milestone.  

“As I live and breathe!”  I turned to the voice and saw my neighbor leaning on the fence.  He was an older leopard with a kindly and grayed face.  “I didn’t think I’d ever hear that thing run.”  

“Hey, Paul.”  I greeted him.

The leopard nodded.  “Steve.”  He glanced down at Tammy.  “There’s the little grease monkey!  Did you get your uncle’s truck running?”  

“Yep!”  Tammy told him proudly.  Paul lived under the delusion that Tammy was my sister’s adopted daughter who stayed with me some weekends.  A mistake I have no intention of correcting.  

“Well, I’m happy you finally got somewhere with that thing,” Paul said, “but it’s really loud and it’s getting a little late, don’t you think?”  

“Yeah, sorry about that.”  I looked down at Tammy.  “Let’s call it for today.  Go shut it off and close up the garage.”  

“Sure!”  Tammy ran into the garage and turned off the truck, but not before giving it a few revs for good measure.  

Paul chuckled.  “She’s a good kid.”  

“Yes, she is.”  I said proudly.  

“It’s nice you’re keeping her out of trouble and teaching her a trade.”  He told me.  “Cubs these days really need that positive influence.  So many of them are getting into just awful stuff… drugs, sex, pornography, gangs… I blame yip-hop music.”

I smirked.  “I’m doing my best.”  There was no reason to tell him that Tammy loves yip-hop.

“Well, I’ll get back to my shows.”  Paul said with a wave of his paw as he turned back to his house.  “Good work on the truck.”

“Goodnight, Paul.”  I called after him.  

Tammy ran up to me and grabbed my paw.  “Let's go inside!”  She insisted.  

“What’s the rush?”  I asked as she pulled me toward the house, gripping me with both paws.

“Just hurry!”  

As soon as the door closed behind me Tammy grabbed the front of my shirt, tugging on it firmly.  “Kiss me!”  She demanded.  

“Don’t you want to get cleaned up first?”  I teased, knowing the desperate look on her face.  She had been in her father’s custody the previous weekend and this was to be our first night together in quite a while.  My little girlfriend was seriously pent-up.

“No!  Don’t tease!”  The cub pulled on my shirt and stood on her tiptoes.  “The rumbly truck made me really need cummies!”  

I reached down and picked her up.  Tammy latched her paws behind my neck and wrapped her legs around me as best she could.  I put my paws under her rump to support her.  She has become a much better kisser.  I suppose I could say it was my tutelage, but that would be selling her short.  She instinctively adjusted to me, and I suppose I also did to her.  

(Sorry, that's all I have Ford you right now)




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