Gemotions

He strode out of the house, whistling a jaunty tune. The sleek lines of his new Tesla, a recent acquisition, gleamed in the afternoon light. He'd negotiated the price himself, a feat of haggling he still reveled in. Then, the scene. The tow truck, mid-operation. The official-looking sticker on his windshield.

"Excuse me," he said, his tone impossibly polite, "is there some misunderstanding? This is my driveway." He’d barely suppressed a smirk as he saw the operator's puzzled look.

The operator explained something about a blocked fire lane. He let it all wash over him, letting the legal jargon bounce off. He didn’t bother correcting him as his car was lifted, and he smiled as he watched the guy struggle to get it hooked up. What a chump! As the operator drove off, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called a car service, still smiling.