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“And they actually want to do this work?” Tim asks from his bay, lowering the car he just finished with.
“Yup,” I say, starting to remove one of the wheels. “He said do whatever needs to be done.”
“Shit.” Jake grabs a wrench and starts removing one of the other wheels.
I hesitate, about to tell him not to bother as I can do it.
But he then smiles at me. “Beats having to do yet another routine oil change though, eh?”
I chuckle, pulling the wheel off. “Got that right.”
We remove the other wheels, and just as I suspected, the brake pads are basically non-existent, and the rotors are all scored. Also, the tires are worn unevenly, so I think we’re dealing with misalignment and suspension issues too.
Tim comes into the garage after taking his car to the lot. He joins us and looks at the rotors with a low whistle. “Damn.”
“Yeah…” I say, trying to decide where to even start.
“Well, let’s start with the brakes and work our way inwards,” Tim says, heading to his bench to grab some tools.
I shake my head, looking between him and Jake. “It’s alright, you have your own work to do today. I can do this.”
Jake waves me off, having already started removing the bolts on one of the rotors. “It’s a slower day, we’ll get it all done. This is a shitshow. And honestly? I want to be a part of it.” He drops the bolts on the bench and smiles. “You don’t get a gem like this every day.”
I give him a small smile and awkwardly look between him and Tim. They really don’t need to be doing this, they do have their own work. And if they finish early, they could just leave. But they look genuinely happy to be doing this, and… I do appreciate the help. “Thanks,” I say.
We get started on replacing the rotors and brake pads, and with three of us doing it, it doesn’t take any time at all.
“So, how’s training going?” Tim asks me as he fills the brake fluid.
“Good.” I nod. “I have a fight in January.”
“Oh, sick,” Jake says, starting to drain the transmission fluid so we can move onto the next task. “Where?”
“Nashville.” I pull out the new transmission we’re going to install.
“Cool.” Jake smiles at me, and I feel bad that I’m being so vague. But I don’t know what else to say, and I always feel uncomfortable talking about myself.
But they don’t seem to mind, as Tim has more questions. “So, what exactly does training for MMA look like? Like, how do you prepare for these fights?”
“We train in each of the sports that make up MMA, breaking it down to focus on grappling, striking, ground fighting… along with strength and conditioning,” I say as I work on removing bolts from the old transmission in the car. “I’m a grappler, so I’m focusing on striking while training for this fight.”
“Ah, I see that.” Tim smirks at me.
It’s been a few days now since I acquired these injuries, so most of the bruises on my face are gone. But my lip is taking a bit longer to heal.
I huff out a light laugh. “This is actually from something else…”
Thankfully they don’t ask any more questions about that, and instead we keep talking about MMA. I tell them how we train in each sport and then bring them together to spar and fight, and they tell me about their experience watching it. I begin to feel more at ease talking to them while we work, and I find myself willingly sharing more with them.
And the fact they kept it all to MMA was a help. I know they did that for my benefit.
The car is done in a fraction of the time it would have taken me to do it myself, and as I lower it from the lift, I realize I actually enjoyed working on this with them.
“Thanks, guys,” I say to Tim and Jake as they head back to their bays.
“Anytime,” Tim says with a nod, and Jake smiles at me.
I take the car out to the lot, and the mile long work order into Bill at the front desk. The day is almost over now, and I think I have one, maybe two more simple jobs left.
