A respected Airdrie teacher was quietly sitting at the town centre lights one morning when he was rear-ended by another car. Getting out to examine the damage, he was met by a distressed lady who apologised profusely that her brakes had failed.
“We’re blocking the traffic. We’ll go round the corner and sort out the insurance details,” the chivalrous teacher advised.
She agreed and they drove round the corner. He stopped and she tail-ended him again. No brakes, of course.
Three months later, and having only recently recovered from his colleagues’ slagging, he was again at the same lights at the same time and was tail-ended by the same woman in the same car.
Chivalry now stretched beyond breaking point, he approached the car with a resigned air and gently asked the appalled woman driver: “I hope you don’t mind me asking, hen, but how do you stop when I’m not here?”
