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The Garage

When I was a little girl, I always wanted a muscle car. I love my car. It's a 68' Chevy Camaro, black with shadowy green flames. Completely restored, almost. That's when my best friend told me that she had a cousin that specializes in restoring classic Chevy's. So, she gave me his number and I called him up. When I called him, I told him that I was best friends with his cousin. So, he wanted to know a little bit more about me. I told him that I had been friends with his cousin throughout high school and that I'm currently going to school to become a pyro-technician. We talked for a little while longer about my interests and then he asked me what I looked like. I told him that I'm a blonde about 5'5", blue eyes with an athletic build. I said that I've always had a love for classic cars and that I always keep to myself most of the time because of school. He seemed to be getting friendly. I'm not the kind of woman that tells just anybody about myself. I usually don't trust anybody but people I know. But when I was talking to him, he didn't seem to be a womanizer. He said that he does restorations on old vehicles at his home on his days off. I told him that I wanted it completely restores spared at no expense. He told me to bring it in the next day so he could look at it. I was kind of excited to see what he looked like. And judging by the questions he was asking me, I think he was kind of excited to see what I looked like too. The next morning, I got up and pondered what I should wear. I'm usually a casual type of a person. A kind of person that wears t-shirts ...

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