One (but only one) of the infuriating things about where I live is the lack of residents’ parking, which means that parking outside my own front door is a rare privilege.
The other day, I got back from the farm to find a newish Merc in my parking space. For once, I was able to park in front of it, instead of on another street, as is sometimes the case, so I adopted my usual policy of parking as close as possible so as to make it difficult but not impossible for the drive to get out again.
Sadly, I went back a little too far and stopped in horror as my towbar cracked the Merc’s numberplate!!!
There was no-one about so I quietly nipped off and parked elsewhere, letting the pouring rain salve my conscience.
A wee while later, scrubbed and fed, I headed off to work, refusing to look at the evidence of my crime. On the main road, I was overtaken by a car whose driver didn’t seem to care that said overtaking manoeuvre was extremely dangerous, highly illegal and downright stupid.
Guess what?
It was the same Merc!
My conscience is clear. I just wish I’d done a bit more damage!!!!!!!
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