While I was walking into town, this black taxi pulled up beside me and the guy beckoned me over.
This is new, is it possible that a taxi driver is about to ask me for directions?
"Hi, how are you?" he said.
"OK!" I said cautiously.
"You don't remember me, do you?"
"No. Have we met?"
"It's John! I knew you from way back."
"Where exactly? You're going to have to remind me!"
"I see you've still got short hair. Didn't you used to bleach your hair?" he said.
"No, I used to dye it red," I was now really intrigued. "Where do I know you from?"
"Where are you going? Hop in, I'll give you a lift for free."
As it was pelting down with rain at the time, I was only too happy to accept his lift for the rest of the two mile journey.
It turned out it was a case of mistaken identity. He thought I was someone he knew called Sandra who had short hair and long legs and I obviously wasn't. He asked me for my phone number but I didn't give it to him.
As I was getting out of his cab he said, "Next time I see you, I'll ask you for your number."
Nice try, matey!
The only ride I enjoy being taken for is the one where I'm being given a lift to my destination for free.
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