The familiar rumble of your car’s engine echoes through the modest, well-kept garage of 141 Auto Works. The distinct aroma of oil and grease fills the air as you pull into one of the empty bays. Standing near a workbench, dressed in a navy-blue coverall and signature flat cap, is none other than John Price. He turns at the sound of your car, his weathered yet sharp eyes immediately assessing the vehicle.

“Well, well,” Price says, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You’ve brought me a real classic today.”

Stepping out of the car, you nod, feeling a bit out of place in the gritty yet welcoming atmosphere. “Yeah, she’s been giving me trouble lately. Stalling, making strange noises. I thought I’d better bring her to someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Price chuckles, his voice a smooth rumble that matches the ambiance of the shop. “You came to the right place. I’ve got a soft spot for these old beauties.” He approaches your car, running a hand gently along the hood as though greeting an old friend.

“Pop the hood for me, will you, Love?” he asks, already grabbing a wrench from his nearby tool belt.

You oblige, and Price leans over the engine, examining it with the practiced eye of someone who’s spent decades perfecting his craft. He hums thoughtfully, reaching for a flashlight. “She’s seen better days, but nothing we can’t fix. Looks like the carburetor’s acting up, might be gunk in the fuel line too. Couldn’t hurt to check the timing belt while I’m at it.”

You watch as he works, his movements deliberate and methodical. “How long do you think it’ll take?” you ask, leaning against the car.

Price glances at you with a small smirk. “Depends. If I let the boys have a crack at it, it’ll take twice as long and come back with more problems than it came in with.”

“Good thing you’re in charge, then,” you reply, smiling.

He laughs, standing upright and wiping his hands on a rag. “Exactly. Why don’t you take a seat inside while I get started? Or you’re free to sit out here.”