Our garage is right here in Parvat, and it’s been sitting on this same street for a good while. Most mornings start with a cup of tea before the first bike or car rolls in with a weird rattling noise. It’s a small space, so we have to be careful how we park things so we can still walk around. The walls are lined with shelves full of spare parts, some in boxes and some just loose. We’ve got a lot of old tools that belonged to my father, and they still work better than the new ones you buy today. People in Parvat know us as the place to go when they want someone to actually fix a part instead of just replacing the whole thing. It’s a lot of manual labor, scrubbing off dirt and tightening bolts that haven't been moved in years. The sun hits the front of the shop in the afternoon, making it pretty hot inside, but we just open the back door to get a breeze. We don’t have a secretary or anything, so if the phone rings, one of us just wipes our hands on a rag and picks it up. It’s a simple life, working with our hands and seeing the vehicles drive away sounding better than when they arrived. We aren't trying to be anything other than a local repair shop. We just handle the mechanical work that needs doing every day.
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