I just saw an elderly gentleman get out of his car with a rucksack already on his back.
What on Earth was going on there, do you reckon?
I wondered whether he might have accidentally forgotten to remove his rucksack before he got into the car. But that seems unlikely: even if he had forgotten that he was wearing his rucksack, he would surely have noticed it when he sat down. It must have been extremely uncomfortable.
Then I thought that perhaps the elderly gentleman must have had short legs, and couldn't reach the pedals without some sort of padding at his back. But his car was a Vauxhall Corsa, which is a pretty small car, and I'm pretty sure they come with seat adjusters. And, besides, surely some sort of cushion would have made a far more appropriate booster. And, besides some more, I couldn't help noticing that he was about six feet tall, give or take.
When I told Jen about the elderly gentleman I had seen getting out of his car with a rucksack already on his back, she suggested that perhaps his wife had put it on for him, and that he was incapable of getting out of it on his own. If a man were to say such a thing about a woman, elderly or otherwise, he would no doubt be accused of rampant sexism, but us chaps are increasingly expected to put up with this sort of nonsense. I am sure that anyone who could parallel-park a Vauxhall Corsa as well as this elderly gentleman clearly could would be perfectly capable of manoeuvring himself out of a rucksack. It's not exactly rocket science.
Unless, of course, something had gone wrong with the clasp on the rucksack. Perhaps it had jammed. Perhaps the elderly gentleman had been stuck inside the rucksack for weeks, but was too embarrassed to ask for help. Us chaps tend not to like asking for help. The poor fellow! If only it had occurred to me at the time, I might have asked if he needed a hand. Well, to be honest, I probably wouldn't have: us chaps tend not to like offering to help either.
But the whole affair is, I'm sure you'll agree, very intriguing. There's some sort of back story there that we aren't party to. Something that explains the elderly gentleman's apparently odd behaviour. In fact, I'm half tempted to pop back into town to see if he's still there, so I can ask him about it. But I'm not going to.
Sometimes life's little mysteries have to go unresolved.