Service Stations?

Service stations; what a quaint name for a place where the chance of anyone providing anything remotely resembling service is as likely as Bill Heffernan, Gearge Pell and Fred Nile going to Ellen and Portia’s wedding. I hate service stations. It’s not the high price of petrol that gets to me, although of course I miss the days of paying around sixty cents a litre, it’s everything else that makes filling up your car that little bit more unpleasant. Continue reading “Service Stations?”