Driving Test Blues 🚘

My driving instructor, very Rotary Club, wore a tweed jacket, complemented by shiny brogues, a minor pillar of society in a sleepy town on the River Ouse.
On the test day milestone moment I woke with butterflies - freedom and street cred at stake. Needn’t have worried as I passed first time.
Returning home relaxing, I stubbed out a cigarette in the dashboard ashtray. Minutes later a fire erupted, a sorry end to a Morris 1100, kick starting my driving career in a blaze of glory.
My erstwhile instructor seemingly so respectable has been incarcerated for interfering with a female pupil.