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About Napier

Downside? Rust—bloody hell, it rots faster than a wet sarnie. Broke down on me once—middle of nowhere, rain pissin’ down. Fumin’, I was—kicked the tyre, hurt me toe, looked a right tit. But when it ran? Bliss—cheap, cheerful, pure *joie de vivre*. Mate, if I could, I’d drive one round Paris, Jesse-style, blarin’ tunes, confusin’ the French—*Liberté!*

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First off, I hit up the local café on Commerce St. You know, the one with the best flat whites? I’m standing in line, and this dude in front of me orders, like, a 10-ingredient smoothie. I’m just trying to get my caffeine fix, and this guy’s over here making a science project. I’m like, “Bro, it’s 8 AM, not a health convention!”

Frankton Festival to celebrate history of quirky railway suburb