Carl Rustbucket

This character doesn’t work at the garage, but you’d never pick it from the way he’s always loitering around, handing out unasked-for advice to anyone who’ll give him the time of day—or even those who won’t. He’s got a habit of turning up with a folding chair and plonking himself right out front, cracking open a warm tinny from his cooler and holding court like he owns the joint.
This character has got a yarn for every situation, most of them wildly off-colour or flat-out unbelievable. He’ll regale anyone within earshot with tales of “the good old days,” which usually involve too much booze, dodgy decisions, and a murky “incident” involving the town’s water tower that he refuses to properly explain. He’s also a self-appointed whiz on all things automotive, even though his so-called expertise is generally useless—or downright dangerous. “All ya gotta do is whack it with a spanner and she’ll purr like a kitten!” he’ll claim, while the mechanic facepalms in the background.
His real passion, though, is conspiracy theories. He’s convinced the garage is a front for a secret government plot and that the cars are being fitted with tracking devices.