Marty stared at him: the mechanic looked familiar somehow. And then he remembered - this was the old guy who had asked him for a donation to save the clock tower in the future! Of course he was sixty years younger here in 1955, but yes, it was the same man. Marty remembered that the guy had connected the clock tower lightning storm with repairing Biff s car, and now here it was, happening right in front of him.
‘Here she is, Biff,’ Terry gestured proudly, ‘all fixed up, like new. Except we couldn't get her started.’ He glanced over at the eager Tannen. ‘You got a kill switch on this thing?’
Tannen grinned at that.
‘Nope, you just gotta have the right touch,’ he bragged. ‘Ain’t nobody can start this car but me.’
He climbed in the car and turned the key. The car growled to life on the first try.
The mechanic nodded distractedly, as if he was slightly impressed. He pulled a clipboard out of his truck and checked the paperwork.
’Let’s see,’ he said as he read the paper before him. ’The bill comes to three hundred and two dollars and fifty seven cents.’
Biff turned a shade of red almost as deep as the Western Auto sign.
’Three hundred bucks?’ he screamed. ’Three hundred bucks? For a couple of dents? That's bullshit, Terry!’
‘Actually,’ Terry replied in a bored tone, as if he had expected Biff’s temper tantrum all along, ‘it was horseshit. The car was full of it. We even found some in the glove compartment. We had so much manure piled up in the service bay, we had to pay old man Jones eighty bucks to haul it away.’
Bill laughed nastily.
‘Yeah, and I’ll bet the old skinflint resold it, too. I oughta get something for that!’
Terry the mechanic turned toward the store. He waved for Biff to follow him.
‘C’mon,’ Terry said, ‘let’s write you up inside.’
Biff cut the engine and climbed out of the car.
‘Three hundred bucks!’ he continued loudly. ‘I’ll tell you, Terry, if I ever get my hands on that son of a bitch who caused this, I’ll break his neck!’
Marty had to grin at that. As the son of a bitch that Biff was talking about, he had to admit it - it was all sorts of fun to get Biff Tannen pissed off. As long, Marty added to himself, as Biff didn’t have a gun.
Bill and Terry disappeared inside the store. In another minute, Marty imagined. Biff would come back out and drive away - and there was no way Marty could follow him on foot. There was only one thing to do, then.
Marty would have to hide in the back of Biff’s car.
Chapter Fifteen
Marty crouched in the back seat of Biffs car. This early in the morning, there was hardly anyone around in Hill Valley, and it had been easy for him to jump in the car without being noticed. He cautiously peeked over the front seat, and saw Biff come out of the Western Auto, carrying half a dozen cans of oil.
Marty ducked down in the well between the seats. Now, as long as Biff didn’t look back here -He felt the half-dozen oil cans get dumped on his back. As much as it hurt, he suffered it in silence. Now, as long as Biff didn’t look where he had thrown things -
‘Well, well,’ Biff said loudly, ‘lookee what we have here!’
For a second, Marty thought Biff had spotted him. But then he realised Biff’s voice was growing fainter. Biff was moving away from the car.
What was going on? Marty couldn’t stand it. The oil cans rolled toward his feet as he lifted his head to peek out again.
Marty’s mother, Lorraine, had just come out of Ruth’s Frock Shop. Marty recognised her dark-haired best friend, Babs, too. This being 1955, of course. Lorraine was still a teenager, just about Marty's age. She was carrying a new dress with her - a dress, Marty remembered, that she would wear to tonight’, dance.
Biff had gone over to talk to the girls. ‘Hey, nice dress, Lorraine.’ He smirked at the two of them. ‘Although I think you’d look better wearin’ nothin’ at all.’
Lorraine rolled her eyes heavenward. ‘Biff, why don’t you take a long walk off a short pier!’
She and Babs started to walk away. Biff followed.
‘Hey,’ he protested, ‘I’m just trying to make polite conversation.’