This morning I was trying to manoeuvre out of my parking spot. I backed up and immediately nudged the car behind. Oops never mind. So I clenched my jaw and strained to get full lock without power steering and edged forward. Ker-bump. The car behind had rear-ended me. I aimed my hardest Paddington hard stare at my aggressor only to realize that the car was empty. Gingerly I reversed back, nudging the little silver Micra back a few feet, then edged out into the stream of rush hour traffic. And to my astonishment, the Micra rolled up behind me! I accelerated slightly and let another car get in between us. The traffic was moving slowly and on the uneven cobbles, the runaway car didn’t gain much momentum. I followed it in my rear-view mirror, unable to contain my laughter and yet also feeling I was somehow at fault. Still it seemed so comical, like a silent movie with Buster Keaton. Instead of heading right to school, I went round the Piramide one more time just to catch a further glimpse of the runaway car’s progress. It had rolled almost two hundred metres and had come to a stop in the middle of a three-way junction. A line of cars was forming behind it and I could see the occupants beginning to gesticulate their fury. Too bad I couldn’t see their faces when they tried to remonstrate with the absent Micra driver.
Made my day.
The car rolled from the tree-lined boulevard at the top (north), southwest to where the top of the pyramid is.
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