Baby you can drive my car!

I took a three hours car mechanics class yesterday. I am late and I arrive to find 6 or 7 people clustered around an old man wearing a clean and ironed shop uniform with Mr. Cooper embroidered on the right side. I am asked to bring my car in the shop. It is going to be a "hands-on" class. We are all working on a car. On my car to be more precise.
Mr. Cooper lifts it and inspects the break, and the exhaust system. He fixes a noise that had been worrying me for sometimes (loose heat shield), brings the car down and cleans the battery, tops all the fluids. I am getting a complete check-up.
We've done with my car. We go on to some of the others.
A man, balding with a beard, is standing in front of a shining Golf with "Go Vegan" written on the license plate holder. The hood is open and all looks so clean that I have trouble to believe that this car was ever driven. Mr. Cooper comes by and says with an unmistakable southern accent "I see nothing wrong with this car" then moves on to the next car.
The guy is not happy. It is as if he wanted to have some problems. I see him later asking quietly Mr. Cooper for something. I can't hear the question, but I hear the answer clearly "Your oil's fine". He is not getting anything repaired. He is not getting an oil change. He seems unhappy with the class.
He is not the only one who wanted to get more from the class. As we are all leaving, I see a young guy giving his card to the woman who came with the large white pick-up.
Silence, oil, number. We all got something from that class.