In early 1966 we managed to buy a used car, a 1964
Dodge. This car had the habit of stalling in the rain. One
afternoon as I was driving home from work around 4:30 pm,
going north on Keele Street, just before making a left hand
turn to our parking lot, my car stalled. The driver behind me
was very impatient and kept honking his horn. Since that
didn’t help the situation, I got out of my car, went back to
talk to him. As he lowered his window, I said to him “Excuse
me sir, that is my car there, it is stalled. I wonder if you
could help me by going there and start it while I stay here
and honk your horn”. Well, he didn’t have a sense of humor;
he started addressing me in not a nice language. He was
cognizant of the fact that I was an immigrant and even had
some colourful adjectives to it. But, when he started to
describe me in terms of certain parts of the anatomy that is
rather private, I thought it’s best that I go back to my car,
which fortunately then started.
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