Christ on a chariot-driven crutch. James started slightly, because he wasn't expecting a bit of a screech this early in the AM. He cleared his throat, patting the hood of his car, a fond gaze set upon her (the car, not the blonde - though she was lovely too) with acid blue eyes.
"She needs an oil change and a tune-up," he said; that was all, he'd forgo listing the litany of other issues - and he'd cling to his beloved wheels until she wheezed her last exhausted breath. "Just the basics, no need to go into anything complicated. I was just wondering if you've got something available for today?"
If not, he'd come back. Or just leave Sally in good hands. This town was the size of a bloody postage stamp, it felt like, so if he had to walk to work then so be it.