I saw an elderly gent with a four wheeled walking frame today, trying (and failing) to negotiate deep snow and black ice. You know that horrible feeling you get when a football rolls out into the middle of road and you expect a small kid to come hurtling out after it? That’s what it was like.
I helped him get across the way and asked where he was going so I could help him get there as well.
“Back to my car love – it’s outside the Abbey down there”.
“Where do you live?”
“Mitton. I thowt I’d have a drive out and get a loaf”
“Will you be OK driving back? The roads are quite bad”
“I think so. I should be Alreight but thanks anyway...”
I hung about to make sure he was OK but had to go and intervene again when he revved the tits off his little mobility car and started sliding all over before explaining
“It’s an automatic. There not so good on snow are they? Automatics.....”
“OK that’s it!! Jump out and switch seats; I’m driving you home”
When we arrived at his house, his daughter and son in law were there and (understandably) they questioned who I was why I had driven this gent home.
I introduced myself, explained how he had driven out, parked his car quite a distance from SPAR, then tried walking with his frame along one of the most treacherous roads, and then tried driving along it. I did not feel at all happy about leaving him to it and thought it best if I drove him home and made sure he got in safely.
You know what his daughter said?
“Yes, we know why he went out thank you; we were here when he left. What I want to know is why you saw fit to "mollycoddle" him home again in his car... Are you insured to drive any car?”
I very rarely lose my rag, but she got it.
