The other day, I stumbled upon an online discussion about someone getting ripped off by a motorcycle mechanic, and it struck a nerve. While I don’t ride motorcycles myself, the story resonated deeply with my own experiences in the automotive service industry.

Remember when mechanics were craftspeople who took pride in their work? These days, finding a trustworthy mechanic feels like searching for a needle in a haystack. The discussion brought back memories of my old Toyota getting “serviced” at a franchise mechanic shop in Tullamarine. They charged me an eye-watering amount, only for me to discover later that they hadn’t even changed the oil filter.

For anyone who’s experienced international arrivals at Melbourne Airport recently, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Last week’s return flight from Singapore reminded me yet again why our airport consistently ranks among the most frustrating entry points in the developed world.

The two-step immigration process seems deliberately designed to create chaos. Picture this: tired travelers shuffling through dimly lit corridors, searching for mysteriously hidden kiosks scattered about like some bizarre scavenger hunt. Then comes the real fun - joining a queue that snakes through a bottleneck so narrow it would make a sardine uncomfortable.