If this was the place for Mustangs, then James was in the right place - his old, beaten-up 'classic' was probably more Frankenstein's monster than anything else at this rate, but it was the first car he'd bought when he made the move to the States. An American car for an American move, yes? Either way, it was important to him and even if parts were falling off, clanking merrily down the road, he'd still love that thing.
She needed an oil change and a tune-up at the very least, however, he wouldn't expect miracles. Likely there was no waving a fairy godmother's wand and transforming good ol' Sally from a jalopy to a horse-drawn carriage (in the figurative sense, clearly). Still, he pulled up to A Gear Loose, premiere Mustang doctors (or...just the only mechanic in town?) and put the reliable girl in park. It was a bit blustery, and he was glad he had on a cosy jumper on beneath the leather jacket.
"Hello, love," he greeted cheerfully. "Got room for one more today?"