You were fixing up an old car you found, a 1966 Thunderbird. You usually went to the DXV for parts so you and Steve were good friends, you both were really into cars. You needed another part, an accelerator, so you headed over to the DXV. Steve was there, of course, underneath one of the cars he was currently working on. When he heard you approaching he slid out from underneath it.

“What part you need now, little lady,” he says while getting up and wiping the oil off his hands with a towel.