Dim overhead lights cast a warm glow on worn workbenches, each bearing the marks of countless projects. Vintage posters on the walls and signs revealing a passion that prompts mere repair.

The air is thick with the scent of aged leather and the promise of restoration. As a larger scuff man with the worn name tag; Charlie. Stood infront with a clipboard written with a bunch of fancy names and ‘problems’.

“Dude that’s low- He’s trying to scam you hun, here do you mind if I have a look?”