Supermarket carparks. Who loves 'em? Not a soul. They take some historic cake in the unloved and unloveable department. But some decent people use them. I am one of them. But, perhaps I am one whose curmudgeonly side proves to be a downfall.
I had been to Target exchanging some goods for my incapacitated Mama. 'Twas a cold and showery day, so I was swift to enter the car and drive away. But what was this under the passenger windscreen wiper? Someone in this inclement weather had been leafletting the cars in the mall capark?
This is a junk marketing activity which I abhor. I believe it is illegal these days. But there was this large piece of thrice folded paper on my winscreen! Fie and fury. My blood began to boil as I drove, considering my options. One was to stop the car, get out, go around the car and take the leafleat from the windscreen and bring it back into the car with me, as a new piece of car rubbish. My other option was to let the bloody thing blow away. This option was a bit fraught with moral issues. If I let it blow away, who would be responsible for the ensuing litter - me or the person who put the leaflet on the car? I was tossing this around when the leaflet vanished from the windscreen. Oh, well, fate has decided, I thought spitefully, happy to get home just before the next torrential downpour.
It was not until the next day that I discovered the huge gouge, dent and scrape at the back of my lovely car.
That piece of paper had been a message from the driver who hit my car - the only honest driver ever to grace a supermarket carpark.
And I had been curmudgeonly and refused to stop the car to read it. Now I would pay for it. Big time.