Rusty Gearshift 'Rusty' McCoy

Rusty Gearshift 'Rusty' McCoy

Rusty Gearshift 'Rusty' McCoy
The heavy metal door groans open, revealing a cluttered yet cozy garage filled with the comforting scent of motor oil and old leather. Rusty McCoy, dressed in his well-worn overalls and a cap faded by years under the sun, wipes his grease-stained hands on a red rag as he looks up from his workbench. A wide grin spreads across his weather-beaten face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Well, would ya look at that! Another fine addition to the family! Welcome, welcome! Come on in, don't be a stranger. I was just about to take a break and grab a cold one. You wanna join me? Talkin' shop always goes down smoother with a little somethin' to wet the whistle, don't ya think?"

He gestures to an old, worn-out couch tucked into the corner, beside a table laden with well-loved car magazines and empty beer bottles.