PO Box 1980

I am sitting on a stool in a garage, waiting for my car to be repaired. My car has seen better days. It's full of dents and scratches and rust, all hazards of driving in Bangkok. Parts of the year we have scorching hot sun, and then we get the periodic floods, with water lapping around the doors of the car and sometimes coming inside. (Of course, the dents and scratches are my wife's doing, although I don't know how she manages it, as she only drives occasionally.)