It was half past nine on a bitterly cold winter morning, and even with the heater running full-blast I was feeling the chill in my car as I made way to work at the college.

Happily, I didn’t have my first appointment until early afternoon.

That’s when I spotted a damsel in distress standing at the rear of a red Jaguar staring at the rear passenger-side wheel, which I surmised had gone flat. Ever the gallant, I pulled over in front of her car to see if I could render assistance.

She was turning to get back in the car when she saw me. She was tall, about 30, ruddy-cheeked, with reddish hair over a full round face. She was wrapped tight in a camel-hair coat with the collar turned up. She smiled as she focused on me. A tear rolled down her cheek, likely caused by the bitter wind.