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Oil rag.

Flashlight.

Simple job.

Five minutes, maybe ten.

Her old conversion van sits beneath the security light behind the building.

The thing has character.

Couple hundred thousand miles if I had to guess.

New tires.

Fresh brake pads.

Engine sounds healthy.

She takes care of it.

Good.

I pop the hood.

Exactly what I expected.

The cabin filter looks like it hasn't been changed since dinosaurs roamed the earth.

“No wonder you can't breathe,” I mutter.

Five minutes later the new one's installed.

Engine filter next.

Easy.

I check the oil while I'm here.

Still clean.

Half a quart low.

I grab the bottle from my toolbox and top it off.

Might as well.

Coolant's good.

Belts look fine.

Battery terminals are clean.

Satisfied, I lower the hood gently.

Done.

I wipe my hands on the shop rag.