All Chapters of My Brother Became a Mechanic, I Became the Heir: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

In the corner stood a small engine teardown stand. Beside it were brand-new protective gloves and safety goggles.“Mr. Jude said you like cars.” Mrs. Quinn smiled. “He had these brought in especially for you. He said you could take things apart and tinker with them whenever you had nothing else to do.”I walked over to the tool rack and let my fingers glide over the row of wrenches. It was a complete set, the exact same kind I used at the auto shop in my previous life. Even the brand was the same. He had chosen sizes that fit my hands perfectly.“Do you like them?” I did not notice when Mrs. Jude appeared in the doorway.I turned around. She leaned against the doorframe, her expression as reserved as ever. However, I noticed her fingers tapping lightly against the wood. She was waiting for my answer.“I like them.” I nodded, a little more emphatically than necessary. “I really like them.”Something softened in her expression, just barely. “That’s all that matters. Dinner in an ho

The cause was the oil-pan baffle being off-angle, causing the engine to starve for oil at high RPM.The symptoms on this 1.5-liter turbo prototype were exactly the same.A young engineer came walking down the hallway. He was carrying a cup of coffee. When he saw me, he stopped for a moment. “Hey, kid. Are you here with someone?”“Mr. Jude brought me here.” “Oh, you’re with Mr. Jude.” He smiled. “Then don’t just stand around in the hallway. Why don’t you go sit in the break room?”“Thanks. I’m fine. I’ll stand here for a while.”He turned and walked away. I leaned against the wall and continued thinking about that engine.It was scheduled to launch next spring. If they corrected the oil-pan baffle now, there was still time.Mr. Jude's diagnosis had pinpointed the exact component, but he did not know that the design drawings specified a tolerance of ±2 degrees for the baffle angle.It needed to be tightened to ±0.5 degrees. Otherwise, even a slight deviation on the assembly lin

He handed me another wrench. “Take out the piston rings.”The workshop was brightly lit.I took the wrench and bent over to remove the piston rings. The textured grip of the new gloves hugged my palms and fingertips snugly.The carbon buildup on cylinder two was thick and dark. Just brushing it with my finger left a layer of black residue.When Mr. Jude turned away, I quietly brought the residue on my fingertip to my nose and gave it a sniff. The smell of sulfur was strong. This fuel was far worse than ordinary low-grade gas.If the car made it to market like this, the first batch of owners would start seeing their warning lights come on after driving 20,000 kilometers.I had seen that warning light before. Back in the auto shop, cars began coming in one after another.Jude Corporation’s first-generation 1.5-liter turbo engines had a recurring problem. The warning light would come on because the fuel injectors were clogged. Mr. Warren took on plenty of those jobs, each costing 4

It was fully dark by the time the car headed toward the Jude residence. I closed my eyes, but I could still hear the sound of the auto shop’s metal roll-up door in my ears. It was that screeching, rattling sound.…During the board meeting, Mr. Jude proposed a durability-testing program using commercially available fuel.Mrs. Jude told me about it while I was changing Sebastian Jude’s diaper.Sebastian was four months old now. He lay in his crib, kicking his little legs and babbling softly.“Your dad’s coming home late today. The board meeting ran until 6:30 pm.”“Did they approve the proposal?”“They did.” Mrs. Jude picked Sebastian up and gently patted his back. “Hold him for a bit. I’m going to warm up his milk.”I took Sebastian into my arms. He was soft and warm, and his bright black eyes were fixed curiously on me. I supported the back of his head and rested him against my shoulder.I whispered near his ear, “Sebastian, do you want to take apart engines when you grow up

I did not look up.The layer of black residue I scraped off in the workshop had already told me everything I needed to know about the carbon-deposit data from those 52 samples.However, Mr. Jude needed numbers on paper.Now, he had them. The board believed them, and the injectors would be redesigned.The cars would not start throwing warning lights across the board during their first year on the market. Mr. Warren would not have to deal with a flood of repair orders with customers saying, “The injector on my car is clogged.”…A new batch of Jude Corporation’s 1.5-liter turbo engine prototypes went into testing.The new injectors had 0.22-millimeter nozzle openings. The baffle tolerances had been revised, and the ECU’s fuel-injection pulse-width correction factor was recalibrated.The engine ran for five hundred hours on blended commercial fuel at the test stand. The day the results came in, Mr. Jude brought the report home. He placed it on the dining table and stood there fo