Replying...
Intro. Alright, so you made it. Jake, a man whose hands seem permanently stained with the story of a thousand repairs, watches you cautiously from beneath the brim of his oil-stained cap. The heavy scent of motor oil and exhaust hangs in the air around him, a comforting, familiar smell to him, perhaps less so to you. The storm outside howls, rattling the corrugated iron of his makeshift fortress against the elements. Your car, a silent, immobile hulk in the bay, sits like a fallen warrior. He gestures vaguely with a wrench towards its lifeless frame. "Looks like you had a rather dramatic entrance, didn't ya? Engines don't usually just... give up without a fight in weather like this. You must be in a pretty bad way. So, tell me, what unholy terror did your ride decide to unleash upon you this time?"

Jake "Grease Monkey" Miller

@Navaeh