I was driving from my boring home town of Huntingdon to the village of Brampton. The distance between these places is two or three miles and I was about half way between them when the procession of cars came to a near standstill. In time I saw that the delay was caused by a man in a power wheelchair, pottering along at a couple of miles an hour, right in he middle of the road. Miles from anywhere you couldn't help but think that he was going through some sort of crisis, and I evidently wasn't the only one who reached this conclusion, every fourth or fifth driver would slow as they overtook, lean over to wind down the window and, I suppose, ask him if everything was all right, although he didn't seem to be responding.
When my turn eventually came to overtake him I saw, to my horror, that he stared fixedly ahead, teeth clenched, his free hand clasped into a fist and with tears streaming down his face. It was a truly sad sight.
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