I suffered a puncture on my bicycle yesterday morning.
I was only a half mile or so from my house, having set off, but it was a miserably wet morning.
Anyway, I was trudging back home disconsolately in the rain, pushing my bike.
A few cars passed me on this Saturday morning.
But one guy stopped.
“Do you want a lift?” he asked.
“Thanks, no. I only have a little bit to go and I am not going to get into your car and destroy it with my wet clothes and bike”.
“It’s okay, I know what it’s like. I’m a cyclist, too”, he said.
I declined his kind offer and watched him head to work in the local meat factory.
He was a brown man, non-indigenous.
But he stopped and offered the lift.
Who could have blamed him, though, if didn’t bother stopping and he just kept going to work?