Grease! Raymond had grease everywhere. He had smears of the slippery, gooey stuff on his hands and face and stuck in his long, black hair. Grease decorated the walls, dripped from the ceiling and a black slime oozed from cracks in the floor of the old, two car garage, revealing a history of wrecked cars waiting for repairs. Even the cracked windows on the big overhead door, that drooped on one side, had grease spots. The smell of exhaust filled the air.
Mom’s not going to be happy about the grease on my pants, Raymond thought. Why should I care? Good mechanics just get greasy and I love it.