The weather is cool and overcast here in Greenville, SC, today, so you would think that one with a gap in his clothing would feel a breeze on his bare skin. But I salute you, Mr. Barer McBottomson, who was so enthralled in servicing your vehicle that you neglected to service your waistline by wearing a belt.
No, you let your backside brave the elements as you bent over, posterior proudly peeking over your jeans, letting all of the Verdae Boulevard lunch-hour traffic gaze upon the ghostly pale hue of your hiney.
I extend my palm to you for a congratulatory slap. On your palm, that is. Just please pull up your pants.