I’m walking towards my bus stop one morning, maybe four minutes into my fifteen-minute walk. It’s a crisp clear morning, so I don’t particularly mind the walk.
A car pulls up next to me, the driver rolls down his window and asks: “Are you going to the bus stop? Can I give you a lift?”
Just like that, I am chauffeured to the bus by a heretofore unfamiliar neighbor (whose house is far enough from ours so we shouldn’t be bumping into each other too often).
I am slightly embarrassed to admit that when I am in a car on my own, it never occurs to me to offer a ride in my car to strangers. These Americans sometimes surprise me to no end.