The Man Who Had All the Luck by Arthur Miller Page A

activities as I always enjoy. A small town and so forth. I am Austrian, you understand. . . . Meanwhile I hope you will not object too strongly of my arrival?
    DAVID [ entranced ]: Hell no. Lots of luck to you! I got no right to object. [ Extends his hand jerkily. ]
    GUS [ shakes hands ]: Rights is not the question. I want to be welcome. Otherwise I will . . .
    DAVID [ softly; GUS holds onto his hand ]: No. . . . You’re welcome here. . . . You are.
    GUS: Thank you. . . . Thank you.
    Laughs softly, thankfully. Their hands part. GUS turns a slow full circle looking at the shop. DAVID watches him like a vision. At last the Austrian faces him again. Quietly.
    How old are you?
    DAVID: Goin’ on twenty-two.
    GUS [ indicating the car, the shop . . . everything ]: How . . . how did you know what to do? You studied somewhere mechanics?
    DAVID [ with pride and yet uneasiness. The Austrian has grown very tall in his eyes ]: Oh no—I just picked it up kinda. [ Wanders near the Marmon as though to hide it. ] But I guess I got plenty to learn.
    GUS: No, no! The best mechanics is made in this fashion. You must not feel at all . . . how shall I say . . . at a loss.
    Pause. They hold each other’s gaze in a moment of understanding. Slowly the Austrian’s eyes turn toward the Marmon. DAVID , as though relinquishing it, moves aside now, not screening it any longer.
    What’s his trouble?
    DAVID [ still entranced, and yet he must laugh as he confesses ]: You got me there. I’ve been at it all night . . .
    GUS [ sauntering easily to the car ]: Oh? What he complains of?
    DAVID [ for a moment he holds back; then the last shred of resentment fades and he bursts out ]: She runs with a peculiar kind of a shudder . . . like a rubbing somewhere inside.
    GUS: She misfires?
    DAVID: That’s what’s so funny. She fires on eight and the carburetor’s set right on the button.
    Pause. GUS looks down at the engine. DAVID is bent over watching his face.
    GUS: If you . . . feel like it, you can start the engine.
    DAVID [ looks at him in silence ]: You . . . you know what it is?
    GUS [ reaches to him quickly ]: Look, boy, tell me and I will leave the town, I’ll never come back.
    DAVID: No, no . . . I want it to be . . . just the way it ought to be, the way it . . . happened.
    DAVID goes to the car door, gets in—starts the motor. The Austrian stands listening for five seconds, then snaps his hand for the motor to be switched off. It is quiet again. DAVID comes slowly out of the car and stands beside the Austrian, watching him.
    GUS: It is very rare. In a car so new. It comes sometimes with the Marmon, however.
    DAVID [ softly ]: What is it?
    GUS [ turns straight to him ]: The crankshaft is sprung.
    DAVID [ for a long moment he stares into the Austrian’s face ]: How could you tell by listening?
    GUS: Same way you do for pistons. You know. You going to work now?
    DAVID [ looks at the car ]: Ya.
    He hurries around the front of the car, picks up a wrench, comes around and sets the wrench on a heat nut and starts forcing it.
    GUS [ hesitates for a moment, then lays his hand on DAVID]: Don’t take the head off. [DAVID stops. ] I mean . . . you don’t need to, necessarily. [DAVID stops moving. The wrench clatters out of his hand. He stands nearly trembling before the Austrian, who suddenly turns. ] I’ll go.
    DAVID [ stops him ]: No, I always knew a time would come when . . . this would happen. I mean somebody like you would come, and then I’d just . . . pack up. I knew it all the time . . .
    GUS: That’s nonsense. You fixed plenty cars no doubt; you’re a mechanic . . .
    DAVID: No, I’m not really. I don’t know anything about metals and ratios and . . . I was almost going to tow it to the shop in Newton. Would you tell me what to do?
    GUS: Gladly. And maybe sometimes I need a hand you’ll drop by. All right?
    DAVID: Oh I’d be glad to.
    GUS [ grips his shoulder and points