Wrong Car

A scene from my back porch. I love white on white.

Simple. Sweet. Clean.

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I had to stop at the bank today and when I was leaving a very nice gentleman was exiting in front of me. He held the door for me and let me go through. I thanked him as I passed him and noticed that he followed me out towards my car.

I got to the car and opened the driver's side door. There was a woman sitting in the front passenger seat.

Yikes!

Startled, I jumped back a bit and almost hit the gentleman who was now behind me.  He was laughing. I looked back at the woman and she was smiling.

I was trying to get in the wrong car.

Egads.

I apologized profusely in case I scared the woman. That's got to be something else - watching a stranger approach your car, open the door and start to get in. Or if you're the gentleman following a stranger to your car and watching all that unfold.

Those poor people. We had a short chat about approaching the wrong car and they confessed they, too, had done the same thing. They were very gracious and kind to the crazy lady trying to get in their car.

In my defense, it was an identical car except for a missing roof rack. You would think I would have noticed. But I didn't.  As K keeps telling me, "Mom, you have no sense of self-preservation."

Just call me Mr. Magoo.



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