It was on the return run that Norm and I made the decision to put the poor old thing out of its misery and run it into the depot. The bombs were, after all, meant to be brought out only in special circumstances, and we were also well behind schedule.

Our new steed- No. 54- awaited us. Resplendent in what the Board called 'Marigold', it was fresh from the works in Dandenong. The paintwork gleamed in the bright lights of the car shed, and the interior glowed invitingly.

I stepped inside. Plastic wood and brown vinyl dominated the passenger saloon, with two rows of modern fluorescent lights running down the ceiling, bathing the interior in a rather garish white glow.

I unlocked the cab, which was shoehorned into the right side of the front end. I got a big padded seat, and so did the connie in his own special console behind the front door; I had a big clear instrument panel, and a wraparound windscreen to see out of. Instead of the upright controller and brake valve I now had three pedals at my feet, just like on a piano- accelerator, brake and deadman's.

Bk h