The cars were honking   on the road one morning as I was walking to the park. I walked on and soon found the cause -- a little taxi that had got stuck in the middle of the road. There was sweat on the driver's face as he tried to start the engine again and again -- nothing happened. "No petrol," I said to myself and then found myself getting angry. "Why doesn't the fool move his taxi to the side?" I thought, so did all the others who honked and shouted. He got up tiredly, and the passenger in the taxi got out. He was a young man in a white shirt, who watched the driver try to push it to the side. "Stupid guy!" I said. "Can't he lend a helping hand? " I watched as the poor driver pushed it to the side. Cars, buses and trucks went past cursing ( ) the poor man. The young man took another taxi and went off. The taxi driver began mending his taxi. "Stupid passenger!" I said to him. "He didn't help you!" The taxi driver slowly got up. "Sir!" he asked, "Did you?" I looked at him guiltily, then looked away, and walked away fast, asking myself, "Did I help the poor man push his taxi?" What had I been doing as the traffic jam took place? How had I helped deal with the problem? Did I help the poor man push his taxi? I'd done my bit, with my mouth. But never had I moved to solve the problem. I was shocked with guilt as I heard him asking, "Sir! Did you?" Why did a traffic jam happen on the road when the author was walking to the park?
There was too much traffic in the street. Truck drivers attempted to go ahead of others. A taxi driver couldn't start his engine. A young man wasn't good at driving.