A Wasted Hour

by Jeffrey Archer

some fascinating people on the short journey from Salinas to Palo Alto, who were often willing to share their experiences with a stranger they were unlikely to meet again. One fellow had worked as a messenger on Wall Street

favourite was the man who’d spent a day fishing with President Roosevelt. Kelley also had golden rules about who she wouldn’t accept a ride from. Truck drivers were top of the list as they only ever had one thing on their mind. The next

men on board. In fact she avoided most drivers under the age of sixty, especially those b...

slow down had two young fellows in it, and if that wasn’t warning enough, the empty beer cans on the back seat certai...

just continued walking. He eventually drove off, honking his horn in disgust.

who looked promising, until she saw

Kelley politely told them she was allergic to

driving past the front gates, so jump in.’ Kelley didn’t hesitate, because he met all of her most stringent requirements:

her only worry being whether either the car or the old man would make it. While he looked to his left and concentrated on getting back onto the road, she took a closer look at him. He had mousy grey hair,