He was bent over. Maybe in his 70s or 80s. It was hard to tell. As I sat behnd the wheel, it was excriciating to watch him shuffle across the road and I somehow got the sense that he was doing his best to hurry, but he was in pain and the flesh wasn't willing. Step-by-step, he inched his way across the crossing and moment-by-moment I was shocked back to reality. I had been in a hurry (as always) - and had been slightly annnoyed at this interruption and delay in getting to my destination.