A Good Mechanic

Kirk hops in the car, kicks it into first and drives it up onto the hoist. A older model, Japanese, efficient, functional. It's a class thing he's noticed, a certain demographic of drivers that religiously choose European and Japanese compacts over anything locally made. Brainwashing, in Kirk's opinion. Mass marketing by and for elitests who believe foreign is always better, no matter if the actual car is built and assembled in Hamilton. Kirk's the troubleshooting guy. Been fiddling with cars since he could crawl. Started driving at 8, sitting on phone books, bench seat cranked all the way forward as he peeked above the dash. Three on the tree, an old powder blue Ford pickup, screeching down dirt roads alongside the lake, county highways to the dunes where they'd drag race up and down the beach. Sand does some hardcore damage to engines hence the early learning curve. Fix it or get fixed, if you know what's good for you. Kirk never much cared for owning his own shop. Easier to work as a hired hand. His friends run a pretty tight ship, custom builds, specialized makes and models. He's a wheel guy, nuts and bolts; oil changes, fluids and fliters, tires, alignment, grease and joints, maybe chassis stuff if needed. Not much into bondo and body but he'll rise to the occasion if need be. This gang of five is a good crew. Solid hours, good pay, decent coffee in the office and regular clientele. Like this lady and her compact ride. Fix the shimmy and shake for me please, will ya Kirk? Of course he will, easy peasy lemon squeezy. She's a looker, this one. Early forties, no kids, left her husband last year to go into real estate hence her modestly stylish Japanese sedan. She's smart, starting small, no tacky Cadillac or SUV. She keeps her wits about her financially speaking. He likes that. Nothing less appealing than flashy broads who need to be wined and dined- and for what? So he can bury himself in debt and maybe get the ocasional lay. No thanks. Nothing wrong with a casual meal and a long drive, maybe a ride up the coast in his boat. Plus, if he likes a woman he's more than generous with his services, mechanical and otherwise. He's not what you'd call a looker but the ladies seem to like his hands. He's rough around the edges so he likes a classy dame but not one who's never seen a pair of jeans and a t shirt. He drops the car off the hoist, backs it off and hands her the key. A slight misalignment is all, should be running smooth for you now. She thanks him again. Her nails graze his hand as she grasps the key from his calloused palm. A wink and her lip curls into a corner smile as she sashays her way cross the lot. Gotta love the ladies who love their foreign cars. Everyone needs a good mechanic. A safe, smooth ride is what everyone's after. Kirk's the man who can make that happen.