“We won’t take your car here. I can refer you to another shop in the city, but just so you know, what you’re doing is an insult to historic vehicles and you should be deeply ashamed of yourself.” He uncrosses his arms and props one palm against the front desk. “Is that so?” “Yes.” I tell myself to leave it at that, to let it go, but I can’t. Maybe Aiden’s surly attitude is rubbing off on me, or maybe I’ve hit my breaking point for the day. I don’t know. “A vintage Chevy,” I continue. “Why do you even care if we service historic vehicles if you’re just going to desecrate it with an underglow? A
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