It was packed, chaos writhed every corner, the clanging of spanners was heard again and again, the banging of bonnets and roaring of engines ringed in many ears, it was the weekend and Big Mac garage was full of disabled vehicles that needed fixing. Chop chop Ricky, there was a lot of work for him to do, from the engine to the tires, every car that came in was weakened, and it had to come out strengthened. He was greasy, sweaty and tired, but should he stop, if he did he was unemployed and his foster siblings were the last people he could ask for help, so press on, he psyched himself. They were five mechanics, each specialized in their own venture, but Ricky had a common and wide knowledge of those ventures combined. From the axles, to pistons, to the battery, to the tires and it’s rims, Ricky knew a car inside out, so it was inevitable that many clients considered him to tend to their car’s needs. SUVs came in, Mercedes drove out, BMWs screeched in, Toyota’s drifted out, it was a
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