Crys sang along happily to a Bob Dylan song blaring through the speakers of his old, rickety but study tow truck. The old truck creaked and groaned as it faithfully chugged along, accenting the song. At least, in Crys' opinion, it accented the song. Not everyone agreed with him. Oh well, they just didn't get it. Or Bob Dylan's voice. He thought it was one of the best ever, but then again, he had strange taste.
Movement that was not a vehicle caught his eye. He adjusted the bright green bandana tied around his head like a hairband and pushed a wayward bit of blonde hair out of his blue eyes. Ah, there was the car he'd been called to collect! And a person waiting beside it. The tow truck chugged as it slowed down and rolled up alongside the car.
He pulled over and rolled down the window. "Hello, mate! Are you alright?" he called with a very faint drawl. "Are you the one who called for a tow?" He gave the fellow a cheerful grin, his blue eyes sparkling merrily. A fake jewel hanging from his rearview mirror danced, sending sparkles of rainbows across his face and brown leather vest clad torso. He was thin, almost delicate-looking, and absolutely harmless in appearance. Of course, he also had a tire iron under his seat, but he'd rather use that on tires than people.
Movement that was not a vehicle caught his eye. He adjusted the bright green bandana tied around his head like a hairband and pushed a wayward bit of blonde hair out of his blue eyes. Ah, there was the car he'd been called to collect! And a person waiting beside it. The tow truck chugged as it slowed down and rolled up alongside the car.
He pulled over and rolled down the window. "Hello, mate! Are you alright?" he called with a very faint drawl. "Are you the one who called for a tow?" He gave the fellow a cheerful grin, his blue eyes sparkling merrily. A fake jewel hanging from his rearview mirror danced, sending sparkles of rainbows across his face and brown leather vest clad torso. He was thin, almost delicate-looking, and absolutely harmless in appearance. Of course, he also had a tire iron under his seat, but he'd rather use that on tires than people.
Elizabeth was leaning against the hood of her car, waiting for the tow truck. She'd tried to fix the problem herself, but she needed a lift so she could get under the car. So she'd called in for a tow to take her to her dad's garage.
"Hey, yes I am," Elizabeth responded, "I'm alright, just some transmission problems."
"Hey, yes I am," Elizabeth responded, "I'm alright, just some transmission problems."
Crys pushed the creaking truck door open and hopped down. "Nice care. It's a shame it is under the weather, right?" He grinned at the woman as he walked toward the car. He looked it over briefly and asked her to try to turn it on, all the usual things. She looked like a competent woman, and he believed her when she said transmission problems, but part of his job was to double-check. Not because he could diagnose and fix problems, but because sometimes the "strange and terrifying rattling" turned out to be a golf ball in the trunk. It was, indeed, some sort of transmission problem.
"Alright, let me get my truck aligned, and we'll get you moving in no time!" Crys told her cheerfully. "Do you need a ride?" He moved toward his truck as he waited for her reply.
"Alright, let me get my truck aligned, and we'll get you moving in no time!" Crys told her cheerfully. "Do you need a ride?" He moved toward his truck as he waited for her reply.
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