Marc tightens one last bolt on his late father’s ’71 Barracuda and declares it finished. The Barracuda is not finished.
One bolt, one work lamp, one heroic pose. Speed lines appear behind Marc. Nothing in the garage is moving.
Felix arrives with snacks (never poutine, not in front of Poutine) and a printout of tomorrow’s rules, already highlighted.
Big Rémi parks the Caravan across the driveway. The sliding door doesn’t open, so he climbs out the window to announce he “has a guy” for the fender.
Marc, to the rafters:
Demain, les Plateau Boys vont voir ce que ce char-là peut faire.
The fender is still primer.