Vanity Plates

Neat, Lenin fig-shaped beard, without the moustache, John Lennon spectacles, enamel blue fedora atop, Ace Ventura shirt, beige slacks and moccasins.    Here I am, off the side of Mogill Road, jump- starting 'Lenin Lennon's' car battery.  I'm becoming vexed - I"m slow getting the leads attached, and this guy is telling me how to do it.  He must be in a hurry.  I'm too much of a coward to ask him, where his leads are, or why he isn't a member of a roadside assistance service.  It's not as though he can't afford these things.  His car is a recently minted, V8 Twin Turbo, automatic, Diesel Toyota Land Cruiser.  Curiosity cooled my irascibility and I interrupted his flow:  "What do you do for a crust?  "I'm an academic."  "Yer, and what do you teach?"  "I don't, I'm a leader of an sustainable environment research team."  I reverse, stop and wait for him to drive away.  I look at his front number-plate to determine the year of manufacture.  95PHD!  Irony has lost its teeth, hubris has no limits and altruism leaves me cold.