I’d noticed black dust around the front wheel covers – and the brakes had just been replaced about a month ago. So I went back to the service station and said I wanted them to check the brakes again.
William at the front desk said the dust was perfectly normal with new brakes, getting the rough edges off the brake pads, and nothing to worry about – but I was insistent, so he told me to take a seat and he’d have one of his mechanics look at the brakes.
About half an hour later I heard him call for “Miss Natasha.” (That’s a Southern thang for talking respectfully but not too formally to people older than you.)
I walked up to the desk and William told me everything had checked out fine, as he had suspected.
Then he said this: “Y’know, what with the drought this summer and all, there hasn’t been no rain or puddles or nuthin’ to wash off that dust.”
Duh. Now it all made sense.
He looked right at me: “What do you do?”
“I’m a writer.”
“A writer? Me, all’s I know is a paragraph starts with a capital and ends with a period. Couldn’t tell you more than that.”
He looked right through me. “I guess everyone has something they’re good at, huh?” and he handed me back my keys and paperwork.