Father Rafael was settling into his seat and reading a passage about Saul in the desert. It amazed him how the man went from persecuting the Nazarenes who followed Jesus Christ to worshipping all of his ideas so quickly. It was truly a powerful passage, telling about how easy it is to change a person's mind when the message is phrased correctly.<br/><br/>He was startled from his readings by the sounds of someone yelling an expletive,<span style="font-style: italic">"God dammit! Ain't anybody heard of some WD-40 before?! "</span>The man had a distincitive southern drawl. It immediately brought him back to his time spent in the Navy. Military service attracts all walks of life and there were several sailors and marines he made friends with who spoke in similar dialects as this person.<br/><br/>The young man was about the same height as Rafael, slender with a broad chest and athletic build. His rust colored hair suggested Irish or Scottish descent, but red hair was not exclusive to northern European peoples. The man wore greasy blue jeans and faded rock n' roll T-shirt. Father Rafael looked for the beat up leather jacket these type of men wore. He could not immediately see it, but was certain it was not far away. The black biker boots were the icing on top. Father Rafael enjoyed these type of men. They were always colorful and this red haired gentleman was no exception. Father Rafael smiled and nodded at him as if to say,<span style="font-style: italic">'relax, no worries.'</span><br/><br/>The man must have noticed the clerical collar,<span style="font-style: italic">"Uhh, shi…I, I mean sorry father."</span>He appeared embarrassed about his behavior.<br/><br/>"Nothing to worry about son. If you desire someone to talk to, I'll be here for a few hours, I suppose." Father Rafael's smile was warm and inviting--his appearance, impeccable; only a small amount of dust had clustered on the lower hem of his trousers and black shoes.<br/><br/>When Julian deSanta entered the shop and uttered,<span style="font-style: italic">"Morning, fellas. Anything I can help ya with today?"</span>, Father Rafael merely said, "Buenos mañana, Juliano," and returned to the scriptures. He knew the garage owner knew who he was. He brought the Chevy Malibu into his shop for regular services.<br/><br/>The last person he observed enter the garage was Miguel deSanta. Always a pleasant young man, he spoke graciously,<span style="font-style: italic">"I hope you're well, Father."</span><br/><br/>"Si, Miguel. Que estoy haciendo bastante bien, gracias," Father Rafael gave the owner the same smile, returning to his reading. One of the reasons he preferred visiting this garage was the fact the ownership was Mexican like himself. It brought a certain pride and warmth to his heart. [Tr.: Yes, Michael. I am doing quite well, thank you.] Rafael overheard some discussion about business deals, but tried to keep out of their affairs. It was none of his concern.