1964-02-10 - The Doctor's DeSoto
Summary: After Able's car took some serious body damage, he brought it to a professional for proper restoration. He stops by to check on the work.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
able julie 

Julie is in one of the shop's rear bays, open to the daylight and chill for the moment. As it happens she's wearing a welding mask and gloves and generating a bunch of sparks thereby, underneath a slightly-difficult to recognize-at-the moment Desoto of Able's own. There's a slightly-different bumper wedded to the front, at the moment, and the front bodywork of the car is currently a patchwork of prep-work and primer: the hood completely off. The shop music seems to be a local station playing a combination of doo-wop and Dean Martin, by the song changing while Dizzy takes a step back and flips up that mask to let things, presumably, cool down.

Though it hasn't been long since Able left his car with a highly recommended but unfamiliar mechanic, he's been feeling the loss. Not financially, but emotionally. He's taken too many cabs in the last week, the most recent of which has brought him here.

Once he's paid his fare, he steps out and brushes his hands down his front. As always, he's dressed simply, but with impeccable style. Navy blue suit, white shirt, slim tie, and a heavy overcoat. Watch, shoes, and cuff links are all of the finest quality. After a few moments of observation, he works his way around to the bay doors and invites himself in. "Hello," he says, lifting a hand by way of greeting. "My curiosity got the better of me, so I thought I'd stop in and see how things were going."

Julie ahs, taking another step back and setting down the welder and turning it off, then peeling the helmet off and shaking out her hair a little. " Oh, hey, Dr. Able. Not a bad time to drop in, actually. I was just putting in some of that bracing on the bumper." Points up. "Turns out that parts car come with a grill guard, so I figured you'd be wanting that, so I did a little bit special there. We got yer frame all straightened out and all nice parts and fresh bushings where things bent in the crash. Boxed some of the frame too, while we had it all out." There's a caged lightbulb in a sort of hanging shop-light hooked underneath, where she shows what's going on, inside. There are freshly-painted welds, in any event, and some curved tubing seemingly bracing the fenders, as well as an extra drilled-out little beam between the frame rails in front. "I figure this stuff up here will mean you can take a pretty good bump without doing a lot of damage. Still it's better you have a bumper out of whack than bend important things, so those are made to give first."

Able trails a long, thin finger across the driver's side fender. Though he might not have the same passion as someone like Julie when it comes to cars, it's clear that he's more than a little attached to his own vehicle. This is never clearer than when he bends down to inspect the work that's already been performed. He's handy enough to see that things have been done properly and then some.

He glances up and a small, crooked smile tugs at his lips. "I like what you've done with it. I couldn't ask for more. Not unless you know how to mount a machine gun on her," he quips. "Jokes aside, this is more or less what I would've asked for. You've got good instincts."

Julie laughs, "Fenders like these you could French in sawed-off bazookas, really, lookit it up in there," she winks. She points over in a corner, "Probably didn't add too much weight, either: I took out some pretty massive bumper mounts and made it …more of the simpler connections with plates and welds and bolts. The factory had to make hundreds of these a day and we only need the one, is all, you see." She points just outside the door. "Anyway, we generally save what we take off so you know it's all on the up and up, but you can see some of that for yourself." Smiles a bit. "Did a little of the same in back, but nothing major, just thought it'd help. We're about ready, though, to be talking paint. Maybe chrome, if you want that redone. Otherwise we can polish the salvage parts pretty good."

There's a low, quiet exhalation. It's a sound of approval. Able smiles wider and bobs a brief nod. "You've done well by me so far. I'm not attached to the chrome, as nice as it looks. I prefer something that's low profile and easy to repair."

It's not the first comment he's made that's less than standard-issue. As he said, his needs outstrip those of the average motorist. "Keep doing what you're doing. I won't try to stop you."

Julie nods, there. "If it was California I'd have you look at nickel-plate. Actually cheaper and I think classier but a New York winter would tarnish it in a hurry. But we got here ought to buff up all right: I got some paint samples and estimates for ya, with an emphasis on the blues. A few other things I picked out in case they grab you, but I know you're looking for low-key. One thing about the boys is they're looking for loud and flashy, half the time. Usually dead serious the other half."

Dizzy steps out from under the car and reaches up to take a clipboard down from a nail by whatever mechanics use for bookkeeping desk space. "Course that means the guys that do the paint could be crying out for something different to do, some places."

"I try not to be loud and flashy, but I suppose that's in the eye of the beholder." Able shrugs and spreads his arms helplessly. "I hope the boys won't be offended if I trust your opinion." His smile fades, but it's replaced with a thoughtful expression. "I'm willing to give you creative control," he elaborates. "You obviously know what you're talking about and I'd rather deal with you directly if you have people working under you. Ring me, yeah?"

Able seems awfully blase for someone willing to put so much money on the table. All the same, he lifts a brief, lazy salute, then turns and strides out of the garage.

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