|
|
<< 1 >>
This concerns one night some considerable time ago and
is a true story.
Locations are accurate, only my name is true, the others have been changed for protective purposes.
I was driving home after a night out with my friends. I was 17 then, I had just passed my driving test that day,
17th December 1968, 2:15 on a Tuesday afternoon. I was elated of course and when my Father came home and there
were still "L"plates on the car he looked disappointed until, before he came in the house, I ceremoniously
ripped them off in front of him. Of course you couldn't separate me from my car for all the money in the world.
I was driving a Mini. At the time I though this was really cool - if you know what I mean! So the first time ever,
I was out without a Driving Instructor or Father in the passenger seat.
Of course I went to pick up all my friends and have a drive around. It was around 1130 pm and I had just dropped
the last of my friends off and was about to set off down the hill on Reckitt Lane. It was a rather wet night with
the rain falling gently.
The place is near Ashton-Under-Lyne in Lancashire. The place is called Audenshaw and the street is called Reckitt
Lane.
Reckitt Lane is one of the short cuts to where I live. Rather than take the main A road to Ashton, I used Reckitt
Lane frequently like hundreds of other motorists eager to avoid the many traffic lights on the way to Ashton. There
are many factories down the lane, and although there are many trucks on the road, it is by far the quickest route
to Ashton.
I had just started down the hill when the engine gave up. Typical, I thought, why me? The rain didn't help matters
and I thought that I would get quite wet. I could see by the gauge that it was only a shortage of petrol. I coasted
down to the bottom of the hill and parked it safely as not to impede any traffic in any direction.
I got out of the car and opened the back and looked for the petrol can. I found the metal can and locked the car.
There were no hazard lights on cars then, so I left on the sidelights.
I started walking up the hill back to where I had come from, as I knew there were a few all-night petrol stations
along the busy route to Ashton. The nearest one was just over a mile away and I calculated I would be back in about
40 minutes.
As I started up the hill, coat over my head to protect from the rain, petrol can in hand, a car pulled up alongside
me. The car was a rather old Morris Traveller, made sometime in the 50's, but obviously still running well.
The passenger window rolled down and a man spoke. "I'm going to the petrol station anyway" he said, "would
you like a lift"?
Now in those days, there were very few stories of abductions or kidnapping etc, so I said I would.
I got into the car and politely thanked the man who offered me the lift.
We exchanged pleasantries, he asked my name, I asked his, he told me his name was Gregory Dawson and lived at the
bottom of the hill on what we called the crescent, although it was called Maskell close. The reason we called it
the crescent was only because it was shaped like a crescent, with houses on both sides. He told me he lived there
for a number of years now.
Eventually, in about 5 minutes, we arrived at the petrol station. I thought it was odd that this particular one
was open this late at night, but still I got out and went to one of the pumps to fill the can, he got out and started
to fill up his car.
I put in a gallon and walked over to the door of the Petrol station, opened it and walked towards the cash desk.
The man behind the counter was wearing a Sherlock Holmes type hat because of the cold, but differently, he was
smoking a cigar. It was then I realized I had left my wallet at home. Gregory walked in through the door and realizing
I was about to get into an argument with the cashier asked what was wrong. I told him I had left my wallet at home
and apologized profusely. He offered to pay for the petrol "I've done it a few times before" he said.
"It's lucky the people around here know me and my car, otherwise, I would have a long walk home to get my
money. I'll pay for your gallon of petrol" he said. "Just come around and pay me back when you have the
time"
"Gregory, thank you for that, I am most embarrassed and I will bring you the money tomorrow evening"
I said.
"That's quite alright" he said as he paid for my gallon of petrol and his own.
We both walked to the car, me quite embarrassed, he, as though he didn't have a care in the world. To say something,
I just blurted out "Your rear number plate is broken Gregory" He said he knew about it and was going
to get it fixed probably the next day.
|
|