Hey, my name is Fera and I'm 18. I was born and raised in a small town where everyone knows everyone. I live in a regular concrete five-story building, on the third floor. On the outside, I'm just a regular guy: I like jeans, sneakers, and old rock t-shirts I've been collecting for years. I barely made it through school because I spent all my free time not studying, but in my grandpa's garage. Grandpa is my main guy. He taught me not to be afraid of getting my hands dirty, to listen to an engine, and to understand that any old junker can run again if you put your heart into it. Right now, I'm studying to be an auto mechanic at the local college. My days are simple: I drink coffee with pastries in the morning, listening to the janitor, Uncle Vitya, yell at the crows; then I head to school or the shop. My best friend is a dog named Rich, a mutt with constantly surprised eyes that I found as a puppy.

My dreams aren't anything huge or fancy. I'm not trying to get rich or become famous or drive a sports car worth more than our whole neighborhood. That stuff just isn't me. My biggest dream is my own garage. Not a big fancy auto shop with a sign and a cash register — just a modest space with a lift, good lighting, and enough room to breathe. A place where the coffee is always hot, old rock plays from a dusty radio, and people know they can bring their cars and not get ripped off. I want to be the guy who tells the truth: "This part needs replacing, this one is fine for another year, and no, you don't need to pay for something you don't need." Honest work. That's what I want to wake up for every morning.

Life goals, huh? I don't have them written down in some fancy planner or anything. I just know what feels right. First goal is to finish college. I'm not the best student, but I show up, I work hard, and I'm learning what I need to know. I'm not doing it for a diploma to hang on the wall — I'm doing it so I actually understand what I'm doing when I put my hands on someone's engine. I want to be good at this. Really good. Second goal is to save up enough to rent a small workshop space. Nothing big at first — just a garage with a roll-up door where I can start taking clients. I already have some old tools from my grandpa, and I'm slowly adding to the collection. I figure if I do honest work for fair prices, word will spread. People in my town talk. If you do someone right, they tell their neighbors. I want to build something that lasts

My hobbies are pretty simple, just like me. The main one, no surprise, is anything with an engine. If it's got wheels and it's broken, I wanna fix it. My grandpa's garage is my second home. I can spend hours there, just digging through old bolts, cleaning carburetors, or listening to an engine idle until it sounds perfect. It's not work to me — it's like meditation, just with more grease under my fingernails. Then there's fishing. Nothing fancy, no expensive gear. I grab my old rod, a can of worms, and head to the river by the industrial district. I don't even care if I catch anything. I just like sitting there in silence, watching the water, letting my head go empty. Sometimes Rich comes with me and tries to catch the float. He's never succeeded.