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The Plaza Picture House

I don't know why but I seem to attract damsels in distress. There I was minding my own business parked in the Plaza car park reading my newspaper. It was about 8.30am, sometime in 1970 and I'd taken a days holiday from work. A car pulled into the car park a short distance away coughing and spluttering and then all was quiet as it rolled to a standstill; the driver tried, unsuccessfully, to restart the engine and then she got out. I looked all around to see if anyone was about to go to her aid but there was no-one in sight.
I thought, "I'm going to look a right lemon if I can't help." Anyway I got out and walked towards her, as I got closer I recognised the make and model of car, as I got closer still I smiled reassuringly, and she smiled back, apprehensively.
"My car's just died, I've been late twice this week already, If I'm late again I'll be out the door." She explained.
"Great!" I thought, "No pressure, then!"
"Open the boot." I said.
"Pardon?"
"Open the boot." I repeated
Her expression spoke volumes, "Great! What an idiot he doesn't even know the !BLEEP! engine is !"
"But the engine's at the front?"
I smiled and asked her again to open the boot, she complied and then she made her way back to the driver's door.
I disappeared into the boot and 5 seconds later I emerged, slammed the lid shut and walked to her side.
"It'll start now." I announced, nonchalantly.
She looked at me, sceptically, but got in just the same and turned the key, the engine burst into life.
She looked at me like I was the messiah.
Now with an expression of a mix of adoration and relief she thanked me and drove off.
I suppose if I had been a real gentleman I would have explained what I had done to get her car going, but I rather liked the thought that for the rest of her days she would recount the story of how a (handsome?) stranger went to her rescue and miraculously started her car in seconds - the only possible explanation: he was a Holy Man.
The truth is I knew her type of car suffered from a petrol pump fault, it was an electric pump located in the boot and suffered from a sticking diaphragm, which could be easily rectified with a sharp knuckle blow, a slight ticking noise indicated the pump was working again.
I know what you are thinking, "Why didn't he ask for her telephone number?"
I was then in a relationship with the future Mrs Peg Monkey.
Regards,
Peg.
 
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