In which I am reminded it's a good thing I didn't fancy a life of crime

Today was the Western Washington All British Field Meet, the annual big British car show. The show didn't happen last year, of course, and this year our British car is having Major Work Done (which is taking a lot longer than it should have done, and has caused me Some Annoyance, but that's a different story). So we attended as observers only this time, and we admired a lot of cars, and we chatted with a bunch of people we know.

Shortly before we left, I was approached by a man I would never have recognised in a million years. 'I talked to you about your car 2 or 3 years ago,' he said. 'I took lots of photos of it, the green and yellow one.'

He wasn't wrong. I went to the car show without the SO for a couple of years because the show clashed with other stuff he was doing. So this man who met me once 2 or 3 years ago and chatted with me for maybe 10 or 15 minutes picked me out of a crowd when I wasn't even with the car.

I was a criminal, I would be so doomed. I'd be spotted and arrested within a day.