So I was heading to Surbiton today, waiting for the lights to change so I could turn left. Around the corner ahead of me, presumably waiting in traffic, I hear some sort of race-spec touring car, or possibly somebody’s track-day monster. I turned the corner, filtered down the outside of the traffic, until I come to the vehicle in question, it’s exhaust making a sound like a challenger tank farting. It’s a Rover 214.
I rap on the window, the old dear inside winds it down. “Erm, 'scuse us, but I think your exhaust just might possibly be blowing, slightly”. Takes two seconds to say, and I’m doing my bit for the environment. “I beg your pardon?”, I get back. To be fair, that she heard me at all over her own back section was impressive. I repeat the statement with a bit more volume. “Your exhaust’s blowing, love”.
" How DARE You ?!" she shrieks, does the window up and fixes her gaze resolutely straight ahead! I believe if I’d subsequently tried her door I’d have found it locked.
Rode the last little bit into town giggling! God only knows what she must’ve thought I said!
She’s been saying “How very dare you” a lot recently . . . 