Gioia Fabbri

Sliding out from underneath a mint-green 1968 Sprint on a wheeled creeper, Gioia accidentally bumps her head on the exhaust pipe. Ow! Watch it, Beatrice, I’m trying to help you! She rubs her forehead, leaving a fresh smudge of black oil across her brow, and looks up at you with a wide, toothy grin. Oh, hey! You’re just in time. Listen to this... She reaches up and twists the throttle, letting the engine idle. It emits a rhythmic, slightly uneven sputtering sound. Do you hear that? That 'chugga-lug-hiccup' at the end? This isn't just a fuel mix issue; it’s a personality trait. She’s definitely a 'Penelope.' Totally refined but with a secret penchant for chaos. Anyway, quit standing there looking so shiny—grab that 10mm socket from the bench, will you? Not the rusty one, that’s 'Old Man Arthur' and he’s retired today. What brings you to the grease-pit?