Camera Autozone | Backup

Installation was a disaster. The instructions were pictograms of fingerless gloves and vague arrows. By midnight, Leo had wired the camera to his left turn signal. By 1 a.m., the monitor was taped to his rearview mirror with duct tape. When he put the truck in reverse, the screen didn’t show the driveway.

So Leo found himself at AutoZone on a humid Thursday evening. The fluorescent lights hummed over aisles of chrome skull valve stems and fuzzy dice. He asked a teenage employee with a nose ring where the backup cameras were. backup camera autozone

He called his sister. She answered on the first ring, voice raw. “Leo? How did you know? She fell out of her bed an hour ago. We’re at the ER. She’s okay, but she was so scared. She kept calling for you.” Installation was a disaster

A white house with blue shutters. A swing set. A golden retriever sleeping on a porch. Leo blinked. He lived in a brick apartment building. He reversed again. The screen flickered. Now it showed a rainy city street at night. A woman in a red coat walked a small dog. By 1 a

“Aisle seven, but those are the fancy ones,” the kid said, pointing with a greasy wrench. “Check the ‘As Seen on TV’ bin by the register if you want the cheap one.”