Pooks’ Taxi Garage
“You honk; she rolls.”
Where rubber meets the mirage.
Just off the sandy main road of Palo Miki, Pooks’ Taxi Garage hums with the energy of arrivals and departures. Brightly painted golf-cart taxis sit parked in a row, each with its own little quirks, hand-sewn seat covers, dangling charms, or stripes of mismatched paint from past repairs. The building itself is open to the air, with palm fronds leaning against its frame and the sound of laughter spilling out alongside the whir of tools.
At the center of it all is Pooks, the island’s spirited quokka, who keeps the whole operation running with a wrench in one paw and her boundless energy in the other. Between tuning up engines, swapping out tires, and scribbling fares on a chalkboard no one really pays attention to, she somehow makes time to chat with locals, welcome travelers, and play a few notes on her battered French horn. The garage feels less like a workplace and more like a clubhouse where every ride comes with a story.
More than a taxi stand, Pooks’ Garage is a pulse point for the island. It’s where friends gather before beach adventures, where news passes from one hammock to another, and where no one is ever really in a rush, despite the rows of “Express Taxi” signs leaning against the wall. Here, the ride isn’t just about getting somewhere, it’s about soaking up the Easy Life along the way.
- Weather: Sunny with the smell of citrus and rubber.
- Vibe: Grit meets glee.
- Activities: Engine revving, snack trading, arguing over radio stations.
- Secrets: There’s a portal to an old forgotten highway beneath bay 3. She’s saving it for later.
Regulars:
- Pooks: Runs the show with grease-streaked paws and boundless cheer.
- Tilly: Drops off radio gear and swaps island intel.
- Capy: Keeps his personal cart tuned here. Swears no one else can touch it.
