1985. I am hitching up from Droitwich in Worcestershire to Manchester. It is 8 in the morning as I put my small rucksack on the damp ground by the Motorway slip-road. I get my thumb out, and watch all the business men in a hurry in their company cars commuting to Birmingham, pass me by.
I hear a screech; I look around and see a car [car A] has stopped for me. Unfortunately the car behind [car B] had to slam on his brakes to avoid driving into the back of car A. This caused the next car [car C] to crash into the back of car B, and the one behind car C [car D] to crash into car C. Car A was unscathed.
“Do you want a lift, the driver said to me?”
“Yes please, what about that lot?” I said looking back at the three cars and three bewildered drivers.
“Let them sort it out!” he said, and off we went.
No one was hurt, no great damage done [bumpers and lights only] and it was undoubtedly their fault [drivers should always be able to stop, even if the car in front does an emergency stop] but it did feel a bit odd. It was not my fault, but without me it would never have happened. S
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