His own vehicle, while a little more modern than Abigail's, actually wasn't much newer. He maintained his and his brother's cars so well that there wasn't really a need to replace them until they were literally on their last leg, though the interior of his was markedly more messy and cluttered than Abigail's had been. There were clothes in the back seat, a couple of pop cans and some chip bags, most of which had gotten there on long drives when he was forced to take them. Still, it smelled nice, thanks to the citrus-smelling tree hanging from his rear-view mirror, and the moment he started the car up, an oldies station began to filter through the speakers.
"Mikey? Yeah, kind of. He's my little brother." Buckling up, he settled back to let the engine warm, idly tapping his fingers to the beat of the song that was playing. Though he didn't sing well, he often did so anyway, especially considering he was a creature of habit and very rarely changed the station. He knew almost every song they played by heart.
Still, he wasn't going to sing in front of a total stranger. He wasn't exactly embarrassed, it would just be a little weird. A friend, sure. Some woman whose car you just fixed? Not likely.