So, Jason and I hooked a chain on the old girl and pulled her out of the ragweed.  Billie the owner, with her Harley tattoo peeking out of her tank top, kept flirting with Jason while she smoked her Marlboros.  She called me "Dad" and him Jase.  I said he was my personal mechanic.  She looked at him and said, "I need me a mechanic."  She was probably older than me, not to mention, she had a lot of city miles, hard city miles.  We winched her (the car not the owner) up on the trailer, chained her down (the owner not the...ya ok the car) to the trailer and headed for home with our treasure.