Maintenance Required

Got your message.

And, yeah, you were right.

I stayed up all night trying to fix the controller area network.

The wiring checks out, but something's still not working.

It's like she doesn't want to be fixed.

Unlike us, this car's got communication issues.

But after all these months, you probably figured out

I'll go crazy before I ever give up on her.

Your friend from across the bridge.

Or-or maybe, like an...

Yeah, it's your driveshaft.

Are you sure? Because maybe it's more of an--

No, no, no, I-I totally get it.

I was just under there.

Um, it's a quick CV joint replacement. Very simple.

Now you're talking to me in a language

I can't even understand, like those other guys.

I'll just give you the keys.

Uh, it's a constant velocity joint. It dries up over time with overuse.

I know the feeling.

What are we doing today?

Uh, we're gonna work on the driveshaft, and then an oil change, on the house.

Oh, wow. Thank you.

Mrs. Novak, you taught me how to fractionate decibels.

How could I ever repay you?

- Um, that's not really a thing. - Mm.

I'm just gonna grab your keys, and then I'm gonna leave you

in Izzy's very capable hands.

Oh, wow. Capable hands is right. Look at those nails.

Girl, I did 'em myself.

I wish I had time to treat myself to a manicure.

Don't look at them. They're a disaster.

You have time right now.

Oh, um... we got a bumper mount on deck.

Okay.

Oh, and the lady with the bangs dropped her car off for a tire rotation.

Okay. Yeah.

New constant velocity joints in under two hours.

Ta-da.

Perfect timing.

We were literally finishing.

You ladies are genius.

Filling this time with some pampering?

I never would have time to do so otherwise.

Can't believe all these years,

and I could've been walking out of here with these.

Hey, can I make my next appointment now?

Uh, for nails?

We don't really do that here.

Well, if you guys change your mind, let me know. I'll be back.

Could even get me to bring in my car as often as I'm supposed to.

Change your oil every six months.

Don't forget, olive oil on the cuticles in three days.

Yeah.

What?

I can squeeze you in if you want.

Another happy customer.

Kam.

You have a caller.

Two minutes.

Oh, my God. Where do you find these guys?

Um, at a bar where people go.

Actually, I'll take you out because he might have a brother.

- Izzy, a little help here, please. - Or a sister.

Kam, I think what Charlie's trying to say is

she wants you to stop telling her the truth.

Oh.

My job here is done. Adios.

Clearly, Marge is my only friend.

Oh, well, Marge isn't gonna get your sparks plugged, so...

- Mm. - You're fired.

- I'm fired? - Mm-hmm.

Oh, so... we can sleep in?

- I'm gonna do that. - No.

- I'm gonna sleep in. - Mm-mm.

Okay. Love you. Bye, boss.

My God.

Marge.

She used to belong to a former Hells Angel.

One of the toughest guys in Oakland.

My dad.

Oh, Marge, you're so close to getting back on the road.

To be fair, he probably wouldn't have saved up

for so many years to buy it off of our old neighbor

if his teenaged daughter wasn't pestering him every day to do so.

She was meant to be our project.

The final test of everything we learned together.

Working on Marge makes me feel close to him.

As if he's still around.

He could fix anything.

Now I'm just trying to get her back out on the road

where she belongs.

To finish what we started.

Your dad sounds like he was an incredible guy.

And I bet daydreaming about our road trip keeps you going

when the rebuild starts to grind.

The thought of cruising her through Big Sur is the only thing

getting me through the rest of these drip rails.

You know, I've heard so much about Marge

and still haven't got to see her.

Kind of like someone else I know.

You know our roles.

No names, no photos, just cars.

Okay, so...

what about names and photos of just our cars?

Meet Diane.

You want to race?

She's beautiful.

This may be the first time a guy on the Internet

has sent me a picture I actually wanted to see.

Charlie.

You know, um, falling in love with people on a nerdy car forum

is seen in some circles-- not all-- some, most--

as a cry for help.

Yeah, Kam, how long have you known me?

Have I ever been in love?

Nine of the most beautiful years of my life.

And no,

not unless you count that 1966 Mustang.

People are unreliable. Cars aren't.

They are always exactly where you left them,

and if there's a problem, you just fix it.

O'Malley, that's brutal.

I don't even know his name.

You don't know his name?

So he could be anybody?

He could be, like...

- Hey, Sammy! - Kam! Kam!

- Hey, are you on Reddit? - Shut... Kam, shut-shut--

- Do you know what that is? - Shut-shut-shut... Shut up.

I know some things, okay?

Just kidding.

Like...

I know he lives in Nob Hill, and he loves classic cars,

and he hates his corporate job,

and he wants to revolutionize car renovation.

Why are you laughing?

Because he sounds like an 80-year-old with a subscription to Popular Mechanics.

Are you gonna get that?

You might not have much longer.

I'm willing to take that risk.

All I'm saying is just be careful, okay, 'cause, like,

you don't know who this guy is.

Could be anybody. I mean, he could be messing with you.

I promise to be careful.

Now, would you please shut up?

Besides, I told him I'm not ready to meet right now.

Whatever you say...

"GreaseMnky."

Really?

You're just, like, blocking with your whole body.

Think I won't see you?

I can see you.

Please some peace and quiet while I try to do this.

Ridiculous.

- Get back to work. - What? Hey, this is an establishment.

Come on. Come on.

Sorry, I didn't mean to go radio-silent last night.