The Driver


Today’s blog is in a lighter vein.

A man was working in his garden when an old-model car came crashing through his hedge and landed on his front lawn. He rushed to help the elderly driver out of the car and then sat her down on a garden chair.

“My goodness,” he said. “Aren’t you rather old to be driving?”

“Well, yes,” she replied proudly. “I’ll be 97 next month and I am old enough to drive without a driver’s licence.”

“What on earth does that mean? he wanted to know. “Well, the last time I visited my doctor, he examined me and asked whether I had a driver’s license and I showed it to him. He took it, picked up a pair of scissors, cut my license into pieces, and then threw them into the trash can saying; ‘You won’t need this any longer.’

“I thanked him, and left.”


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