Morning brings the light of sanity and also Doug & Ross, the mechanics. Doug: "Nah. We don't do buses. Anyway, we're booked solid for weeks. Can't help you love." Twenty minutes later the fuel line is fixed and I've bought Doug the morning paper & donated $50 to Ross's footy fund. On the wall of the shop is a faded typewritten poem called "Doug": "He'll tell you to walk, he can't possibly shift / five minutes later he's outside your door to give you a lift / hard as nails, an impossible pain / Doug is a softhearted mate of mine".
Hope he doesn't mind the big Smokey poo I hid behind the bushes.
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