A Garage by Robert Gray
In one of the side streets of a small hot town off the highway we saw the garage, its white boards peeling among fronds and palings. The sun had cut a blaze off the day. The petrol pump was from the sixties� of human scale and humanoid appearance it had a presence, seemed the attendant of our adventures on the road, the doorman of our chances. We pulled in, for nostalgia, onto