He drove over to his mate Sam’s house for the evening. He was stopping over for the night.
It was about 11.00 when Sam’s dad shouted down the stairs to them and asked if D had popped out in his car. “No! He’s right here,” replied Sam. “Shit!” yells Sam’s dad. “Someone has nicked his car!”
My son, Sam and Sam’s mum and dad all ran out the front in the kind of panic that grips you in these situations. D’s car, which had been parked in the driveway was gone.
Sam’s mum grabbed the phone and started calling the police. D grabbed his phone to ring me. Thankfully though he never finished dialling as had I taken the “My car has been nicked” call I would have gone completely mad.
D never finished ringing me because Sam had looked across the road and asked, quite reasonably, what D’s car was doing in the middle of their neighbours front garden? A somewhat immaculate front garden by all accounts.
(Do they not cover use of the hand brake in driving lessons these days?)
Apparently the neighbour concerned is a really grumpy and cantankerous old git and Sam’s parents advised against going to knock on his door and own up. Instead a clandestine operation to rescue the car was launched. Naturally, D’s wheels started spinning and damage was sustained to the old git’s lawn. Sam and his dad gave him a push and he was free. He wisely parked around the corner out of sight of the house with the no longer so immaculate front garden now featuring a rather lopsided topiary squirrel. I would love to go and collect a photo of said lopsided squirrel but from what I hear searchlights and land mines are being placed as I type to deter future vandalism. I think I will steer well clear.....as D did eventually.
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