Another Jew Mechanic

The Porsche needed an oil change. I drove the few miles to Aaron’s Autowerks and was greeted by his sister, Lee, and a bag of Rugula. “Have a cookie.”

“Where’d you get Rugula?”

“Dad brought it up from LA. He knows Aaron and I love it from one special bakery and he brought it for the grandkids. They haven’t had a chance at it.”

“What do you know from Rugula?” I said.

Lee tugged at her tight, unruly curls, her ‘Jewish hair, and said, “We are Jewish. I thought you knew.”

Well, I do now… The guy responsible for keeping my cars rolling is a Jew Mechanic.

Aaron, the Jew Mechanic, agreed to be my technical resource as Ben makes cars faster and better than the other bootleggers and especially, the cops.

What a pip. The universe conspired to assure me the revised title is the right title.


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