Nia did not accompany Jimmy, but instead started inspecting the exterior of the building with the patrol officer, while also keeping an eye on the surroundings. The gunman hadn't only fired at the restaurant; in fact, there had been shooting before and after as well. These checks were very troublesome and required waiting for more officers and forensic personnel to arrive from the station.

It had been over an hour before Nia finally sat down next to Jimmy. Jimmy was about to signal the server to bring another juice for Nia when she stopped him, "The investigation is over, like your car, several other cars were also shot at, but it's all clear now, we can go back."

Jimmy stood up and left the restaurant with Nia. The police tape next to the car had been removed. Jimmy opened the car door, checked the interior, cleaned the seats, then got into the car.

Nia took the passenger seat, "Your car took three bullets, one at the driver's window. The bullet passed through the passenger side glass and hit the wall; the second and third bullets hit the left fender and front hood. Two bullet fragments were found in the front engine compartment, one of which hit the engine. The engine wasn't penetrated, but I think you need to have it checked."

Jimmy looked up, "Ah," he uttered, "Let me see if it will start." He turned the key, started the engine, and thankfully, it worked. Jimmy drove Nia home first, then returned home.

The day off was not restful as Jimmy drove to the repair shop early the next day. The car repair shop gave him a big shock, "Sir, I'm sorry, but I suggest that you just get a new car and simply fix this one up for collection."

Jimmy responded in surprise, "Why?"

The repair technician pointed to the left side of the engine, "This car's engine took a bullet right here. Although it might look okay from the outside, just showing a small pit, no one can guarantee that the piston chamber inside has not been damaged. And a complete engine overhaul is not cheap, especially for a Mercury that's been used for over 10 years, it's simply not worth it."

Jimmy looked at the engine silently. The technician waited beside him, noticing that Jimmy was very fond of this car. Considering it was a 12-13 year-old vehicle, it was very well maintained; you could see many parts had been replaced in the engine compartment, even with original parts, not just some used goods from a scrap car. Except for the two bullet holes and broken glass in the driver and passenger windows, the rest of the car was very well kept. If you just looked at the exterior, you might even think it was almost new.

It was for these reasons that he made such a recommendation to Jimmy, from one car lover to another, seeing a young man treat such an old car so well was indeed quite rare. Not to mention, Jimmy didn't look like he lacked money or was reluctant to switch; judging by his outfit, an expensive coat and handmade suit, an expensive-looking watch, and what seemed to be a holster bulging at his waist, it was clear he was no ordinary person.

After a long wait and no response from Jimmy, the technician finally couldn't wait any longer. "Sir, what do you think?"

Jimmy asked, "How much would full repairs cost?"

The technician replied, "It could range from a few hundred to a few thousand, we really need to completely dismantle the engine to be certain. Also, if we have to replace the engine, it's highly likely that we won't be able to get a brand new one since they've stopped production. As for replacing the fender and front hood, the cost is not high, I can try to get in touch and possibly find stock factory parts, but I need to confirm the price. I assume you wouldn't want me to just use any second-hand parts."

Jimmy nodded, "Let me think about it, thank you."

Jimmy pulled out a cigarette pack from his pocket and stepped out of the repair shop, lighting up outside. Having finished his smoke, he returned to the repair shop, "Get the parts for me." Although he couldn't bear to ditch the car, which was the first significant purchase he made after coming to this world, he thought maybe after it's fixed, he'd just park it and not use it, buying another vehicle for when he needed to go out.

Jimmy left the repair shop; his Mercury would stay there for a few days, waiting for the factory parts to arrive. They had used parts readily available, but Jimmy didn't want them.

Jimmy walked out onto the street, musing over which spare car to prep. After buying a coffee from a nearby café, he strolled down the road and suddenly noticed a Harley-Davidson dealership. Perhaps getting a motorcycle wasn't a bad idea.

To make sure he could ride a motorcycle, Jimmy took a glance at his driver's license. It seemed that the administrative department of the FBI had done something for him when they swapped his license. He remembered it being Class D in Arkansas, but now it showed Class DM, which was quite nice.

Jimmy walked into the Harley store, where a variety of Harley motorcycles, in different colors, were parked in the showroom, and the store was really bustling with customers.

After quickly scanning the room, Jimmy suddenly felt out of place, as if he had walked into the wrong store. It didn't matter whether they were White, Black, or Mexican; most looked somewhat offbeat and did not match the usual customers. As the only Asian there, he felt like he didn't quite fit in with them.

Putting aside what the motorcycles were like, the customer group was a big issue. Did he really want to use the same type of motorcycle as them?

As Jimmy walked around the showroom, he couldn't deny that the designs of the Harley motorcycles were really impressive, whether street bikes or touring bikes. The more affordable 883 or the more expensive Glide series all met Jimmy's aesthetic standards, but he didn't like the street bikes with the big curved handlebars at all.

However, looking at the people around him, Jimmy couldn't make up his mind to buy one. Maybe he should go see something else.

After leaving, Jimmy searched nearby and found another Honda motorcycle store. When he entered the hall, the first thing he saw was a touring motorcycle displayed in the middle, the Goldwing GL1800. It was a model quite similar in style to the Harleys he had seen, though there were significant differences. The Goldwing was akin to a middle-aged office worker, solid and steady, while the Glide was more youthful and showy.

A salesperson walked over, following Jimmy's gaze to his target, and enthusiastically started explaining the various specifications of the Goldwing. She then fetched the keys from the side, started up the motorcycle, which idled with a not-too-loud, stable sound. Touching the motorcycle, Jimmy found it had minimal vibrations.

Jimmy, "Do you have a test ride available?"

Salesperson, "Of course, please follow me."

Jimmy and she went to the back, where the salesperson checked and registered Jimmy's license and signed a test ride agreement. Only then did she wheel out a Goldwing demonstration bike from the garage.

Jimmy sat on it to try it out, and his height made it no problem to handle such a bike. Jimmy had ridden motorcycles in his past life and, though he hadn't touched one since coming here, his control was still fine.

The salesperson handed Jimmy a helmet to wear and he rode out through the garage's side door. This was Manhattan, New York, so hoping to ride fast was out of the question. Jimmy just took a simple loop around the street and returned.

The ride felt amazing, with the wind pressure being diverted to the sides and over the head by the front screen, almost nullifying the wind pressure against him. His legs also benefited from great protection from the front fairing and the engine's heat dissipation, devoid of the feeling of wind whipping past his calves and knees like back when he used to ride.

The seat felt soft, not planking at all, and it was quite low which, after sitting, made the angle of his hands on the handlebars very comfortable. The three storage compartments were huge, especially the main one, which could fit two full-face helmets. If there were cons, perhaps the large size of the bike could be one, as well as a large turning radius, but these were things he could adjust to, not really major issues.

After returning the motorcycle to the garage, Jimmy went back to the showroom. The salesperson, experienced and knowledgeable, didn't rush Jimmy to place an order but continued to explain other models to him. However, having just test-ridden the Goldwing, Jimmy seemed uninterested in other models.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.