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'Timing!' shouts Andrew Phoebe, and pulls the bus to the side of the road, just down from the Cascade Brewery holding tanks.

A Westar truck with an extra articulated stainless steel bin hoons past the brewery and drags into the Cascade Cordial Factory on the other side of the road. Bill Angel reverses Pushin Pussy and tips the rear bin's load of Sturmer and Golden Delicious into the hopper. At the bottom of the hopper the apples shuffle into a mashing machine. The dark brown juice spurts out the bottom and splashes into the lower storage tank.

Like waterfall, thinks Farrel.

'Slide the windows open,' yells Mr PB, as the maddening scent of crushed apples rolls through the driver's window. The kids start singing again. 

 

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