Call Rocky, Dude

Yeah. Friday night, busted engine. Smoke like it's casting spells.

I'm already googling "tow trucks." Rocky's grabbing wrenches instead. Says,

"Nah, don't panic. I got this," with a grin that screams bad

idea. Five minutes in, hood's wide open and he's speaking fluent machinery.

I swear the bolts all listen when he tells them who's in charge.

Meanwhile, I'm just holding a flashlight like it's my greatest contribution to the

arts. Grease on his hands, confidence loud. Radio blasting,

whole garage proud. If it's broken, bent or totally fried, Rocky just laughs