“Good morning,” she said. Her voice was unhurried, a little worn at the edges. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Luis said. “What can I do for you?”
“My car is making a noise,” she said. “I couldn’t describe it to you in any technical sense, I’m afraid. It started a few days ago. At first I thought it would stop on its own, which I’ve been told by various people is not how mechanical problems work.”
Luis found himself smiling. “They’re right, unfortunately.”
“So I’ve learned.” She glanced back at the car. “I just need to know if it’s serious. I don’t live far, but I worry about being stranded somewhere.”
“Let me have a look,” he said.
He asked her to pull the car into the first bay, which she did with great care, stopping perfectly between the lines with the slightly exaggerated precision of someone who had once been given stern feedback about parking. Luis lifted the hood and stood there for a moment, just listening, the way his father had taught him, because an engine will tell you things if you’re patient enough to hear them. Then he began to examine.
She stood a few feet back, watching him with an attentive stillness. Most customers either hovered nervously or wandered off to look at their phones. She did neither. She simply watched, her hands folded lightly in front of her, as though observing something she found genuinely interesting.
After a few minutes, Luis looked up.
“It’s the accessory belt,” he said. “It’s worn and starting to slip. It’ll get worse if it’s left. It can affect the power steering, the alternator, and eventually leave you without a working battery if the belt lets go entirely.”
