Spewing — Trannies

"Well," he sighed, wiping a smudge of grease off his forehead. "At least I won't need an oil change. There’s nothing left in there to change."

He sat on the tailgate, cracked a lukewarm soda, and waited for the highway patrol, watching the last of his transmission fluid shimmer like a desert mirage in the midday sun. spewing trannies

"Don't do this to me," Elias muttered, white-knuckling the steering wheel. "Well," he sighed, wiping a smudge of grease