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There was the author, Bill Bryson, moving back to the US after a few decades un the UK. He would take a stroll, and his neighbors would constantly offer a ride, thinking his car broke down or something.



I recall he also had an anecdote about his next-door (or at least very close) neighbours driving to his house for some kind of party.


Ha, we enjoy walking also and have to fend off a lot of offers for a ride.




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