Legendary Mechanic Novels & Stories

That felt dangerous too. I lay back against the grass and glanced toward the sky. “Out of all those,” I said casually, “mechanics was probably your best option.” Shaw turned toward me slightly. “Mechanics?” “Yeah.” “I don’t know anything about cars.” “You knew how to fight people and survive prison. Honestly, you were already overqualified for most garages.” “That’s not comforting.” “It’s realistic.” I propped myself up on one elbow now. “I’m serious though,” I said. “Mechanics make decent money. It’s flexible. Hands-on work. Nobody expects you to wear depressing office clothes.”

I smiled. I leaned back in my chair, thinking. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the coincidence of a mechanic being available in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. The fact that she was my mate was even more absurd. I felt like I was being set up, but I couldn’t figure out what anyone would have to gain from it. I picked up my laptop and searched for Earl’s Auto Repair in Summerville and was surprised when it popped up immediately. It was reviewed very well. It looks like Earl is an honest guy.

On the day my adoptive father, Claude Bolton, is buried, my biological parents, along with the fake heiress, Gwen Walton, force their way into the funeral hall to pressure me into signing a statement of forgiveness. They say Gwen is about to be recommended for graduate school, so she can't afford to have a disciplinary record for driving a mechanic to his death. My biological mother, Lorna Pollard, holds my hand and cries. "Claude is already dead. Don't ruin Gwen too." My biological father, Joseph Walton, presses the pen into my palm. "The dead shouldn't stand in the way of the living." Gwen kneels in front of the casket, crying pitifully. "Ada, I'm sorry. I didn't know Mr. Bolton wou

(Thomas) I was driving over to the car mechanic. I had given him Lydia’s car a couple of weeks ago and he had called me today and told me that it was ready. “What’s wrong with it?” I had asked him when I handed it in, “The fuel tank light went on barely thirty minutes into the drive. It made no sense at all. We had gas.” The mechanic, Gustav, an old friend of mine, had leaned in and said, “Have you made any enemies recently, Mr. Lombardi?”

He decided to be playing Ryan’s role, and tried to be making Vivian happy as he had promised. Alex stopped walking as he sighted a mechanic inside the garage where the cars were parked, and it was Alex’s new car that he was working on. Alex called upon one of the security men and also walked closer to the mechanic man. “Good day Sir, it’s Mr. Grayson that invited him over” the security man that Alex called uttered. “Yes Sir, he ordered me to service all the cars, especially this one” the mechanic man too added, and uttered in a respectful tone.

“…An honor?” For a moment, he thought he had misheard. Nobody ever spoke to him like that. Not in his world. Inside the Hayes mansion, he was called useless. A burden. A mistake. Honor didn’t belong anywhere near his name. He let out a short, bitter breath. “If this is some kind of joke, I’m not interested.” “This is not a joke, sir,” The voice replied immediately. “My name is Victor Hale. I am the chief steward of the Cross family.”

He had raised seven figures on it, and the amount was still rising. "I say, Billy! We're rich now!" Ed exclaimed next to him. "These netizens are so damn easy to fool. All you have to do is shed a couple of crocodile tears, and the money comes pouring right in!" Billy scoffed. "This is what you call skill. That Jake mechanic still thinks he can mess with me? "Once my leg is recovered, I'll take the money and buy a large apartment in South City and treat you guys to seafood every single day."

Mechanic Wanted. He knew he should keep driving, take himself out of here and go someplace where he could stay away from people until he got his head on straight again. But, before he'd become a well-known NASCAR driver, he had been a top, hotshot mechanic, trained by his father and his uncles. Maybe Fate or whatever had led him here. Maybe this was supposed to be the place where he got his shit together.

When I was little, my dad and I used to fix older cars. My dad was a car mechanic and taught me everything he knew before he was killed. I guess the love for old cars stayed with me. One day, I asked Azazel to let me fix one of his cars. At first, he was hesitant, but then he relented; well, let’s just say Azazel was more than impressed by my skills. After that, he gave me a few cars to fix and lent me the use of one of his friend’s body shops. Once he saw that I was skilled, his friend offered me an afterschool mechanic job. Soon after, Azazel gave me the Barracuda in exchange for fixing his cars whenever he needed it.

Frank nods agreeingly. "Frank, I may not have your years of experience, but my dedication to the world of sports cars matches yours. I've traveled across the world, attended car shows, and networked with enthusiasts who are willing to provide contacts and resources to help me succeed. I've even taken apart and rebuilt engines just to understand their intricate workings. I want to continue your legacy, not only as a businessman but as a true aficionado who cherishes these vehicles." I share with him something that not many people know about me. I was fixing engines since before I finished school and I initially tought that I might become a mechanic, but life had other plans for me. Frank paus