He was late sixties maybe. Galway accent. Denim jacket. Beard. Kristofferson look. Bonnet open, Toyota, side of the road, hoping something might happen. He'd been there a while. Contemplating the engine, listening to the scream of the traffic on the bypass. I pulled in. Asked him the rhetorical: 'Everything ok?' 'The car just stopped.' 'Stopped?'… Continue reading Nice warm chips.