He talks to trucks

Dominick rolled his eyes, walking drearily toward the truck. "Okay, so what's your problem?"

"Clunk."

Blink. "Huh?" Leaning against the hood, the mechanic eyed the powder-blue piece of wet metal soaking in the puddled parking lot.

"It's making a clunk-clunk sound." Narrowing his eyes beneath the shadow the hat created across his face, he added, "Don't get too friendly with my truck."

Dominick moved a few feet away, whispering as he put his hands on the truck's framework. "Okay girl. What's wrong?" A few seconds later, the conversation continued, "Why would they do that?" He moved slowly down the truck bed as if the hunk of metal were actually answering him. "In your muffler? I'm sorry. But it fell? ...No, that's no big deal, I'll get it out." He moved around to the back of the truck, kneeling and sticking his hand near the cooling tailpipe. "This'll only take a second."