Today as I left Trader Joe’s I saw my former SUV parked in front–what we called The Gray Car. It wasn’t just a car similar to my old one; it was my actual car, identifiable by the familiar license plate and all too familiar gash on the side from that time when I was leaving a playdate and had to back down a narrow driveway. You know. I told The Gray Car’s new owner that it had been my car a few years back, and she stopped and stared at me, then said “Oh my god, I was just wondering what to do about this car.” I asked if it was still leaking oil, and she said yes, then got on the phone to try to get the dealer to give her some money back to fix the head gasket. I was reminded how much I miss the big gray car, then when I remembered the oil leak, I was pleased to say good-bye to it once again. Good-bye big gray car. See you at TJs.
So the car I saw last week that looked just like my first car, a bright cherry red Camaro convertible … could that have been my actual first car? Is there a reason that the autos I’ve known are flashing before my eyes?