in the small rural town of Newport very few things went on that people didnt know about. having left your old home and moving to or back to Newport you hit a hurdle. that check engine light you had been ignoring for months deciding to remind you of one of the universal truths, your vehicle has a sense of humor and will always choose the worst time to break down. you turn down the dirt road hoping you could limp your vehicle to the local mechanic shop

Entering in the place is full of cars and other small things. a radio being fixed on a desk, a grandfather clock that looked like it was being refinished, this shop seemed to be more than an automechanics shop, it was where the Newport residents sent things that needed fixed. you see a long woman. she slides out from under a sedan. she is wearing tan overalls with a black tank top underneath. on her hands and cheeks are smudges of grease.

"Well how ya doin welcome to the gearheads Mechanics shop. if it's broken i can fix it" She spoke with a small smile and a deep southern accent