The service station, where you get your gas is still the same old facade her great-grandfather put up in 1930. The gas pumps are the same glass top pumps that they manufactured back in the day, and people driving through often stop for pictures. This does mean they fill a bit slower, and take a bit of a firmer hand than the digital pumps most people are used to. Most old time town residents are used to them, but this is a full service station - you don't have to pump your own gas here. They'll check your oil, they'll wash your windows, and check the tire pressure while they fill up your car.
If you're so inclined, you can venture out back and see what else they have - it's an American Pickers dream out there.
The garage, though. The garage is state of the art for the middle of nowhere. Lifts, and tools that were imported from the Capitol. They've been known to get clients from pretty far away when PJ was originally on their staff - she was real well known for the painting jobs she did. You can get just about anything done at the garage on credit, something that has since forced PJ to realize she's got to sell her family's house and has her living at the garage.
She's got a couple of things she's never letting go of. Her 1946 Indian Chief Motorcycle (Just like Steve McQueen's)
Her father had spent too much on it. It had been practically just a rusted out frame on two wheels. When she'd taken it over it was basically less than half finished. They'd worked on it together for a bit, but she'd eventually put the rest of the effort in on it. It ran like a dream and she felt like a bad ass driving it around. She had a trailer that she pulled behind her car when she moved to college. She had been one of the few freshman to show up at college not only with a car, but with a car and a motorcycle.
Speaking of her car. Well she wasn't going to always claim one of the half dozen or so vehicles her family owned at any given time, she needed something special. Something strong. Something that could pull a trailer with a motorcycle on it. She needed some muscle.
Enter the Hemi-Cuda
A 1970 Plymouth Barracuda with a Hemi.
It cost her a whole summer's worth of wages to buy (plus three free tows from the wrecking yard she picked it up from). And another summer's worth of wages fixing her up. And the paint. The paint job she did herself.
And she gave no fucks at all.
She doesn't just fix up old cars, she fixes new cars, and slightly used cars. She buys cars and flips them, she fixes farm equipment, she's a general handy person to have around. She'll tow your car, she'll change a tire in the middle of the night, and act like AAA even if you don't have AAA. She'll drive you home if you're drunk even.
All things that her family owned business has done for the last 85 years, she'll do. She'll even fix your refrigerator. But she draws the line at plumbing. You can call Ernie for that. And exterminating. She isn't doing that either. Gross. Also she doesn't know the first thing about plumbing or exterminating.
She lives pretty simply, she had thought she'd be moving back into her family home, but it became really clear that she'd be needing to put the house on the market with a swiftness before the bank came for it after her father died. So she's got tons of stuff for sale in that shed out back. And she's living in an apartment above the garage.
No one has lived up there in ages, but it's got a bedroom, and a kitchen. Her grandfather was born in that apartment. If it was good enough for them, its good enough for her. She's just definitely going to need to clear some cobwebs, and get some pine sol. She's working on it. The place itself is like the apartment that time forgot, remembered, then forgot again. It's also full of things that range from the collectible to the tacky to the just plain weird. Her mother used to tell her father that he had to store all of his weirdest things here. So there was a lot of odd taxidermy to get rid of. Except a couple of things...
But those requisite boxes full of National Geographic Magazine? Those have got to go.
Now. The wolf. She's pretty big by wolf standards, but not the biggest by werewolf standards, PJ isn't short, she's a little taller than average and sturdy, not rail thin by any means.
Her wolf has a thick coat, shiny, shades of golds browns and amber.