When I first got the Subaru, I noticed I'd occasionally see other "copies" of the same model and color and year-ish Forester--- dopplegangers for my quite spiffier-than-the-last automobile. I'd have this kind of "Hey!" feeling of kinship, encountering one, and got it in my head that I wanted to have a mutual communication around the coincidence with the driver of the other car, by means of catching her/his eye and mouthing "Nice car!" You know, ha ha.
It turned out this simple joke was hard to execute. Just catching the eye of the other driver was usually a stumbling block. But when I'd manage that, and did my part, they'd just look at me like "What?" or "Is my tailpipe on fire? What is it? I didn't cut you off. What's your problem? Weirdo."
It was kinda sad.
I mean, we could digress into an examination of what parts of my personality or temperament or relationship preferences are involved in wanting to share the little dumb joke with the stranger in the twin vehicle, but let's just say I was disappointed enough at the increasing unlikelihood I'd ever pull it off that more than one person in my acquaintance has heard the story from me, about the joke I want to make and how years are going by and it's not happening. A few days ago I realized I'd almost certainly not be getting my mutual joke moment with the Subaru, what with its dwindling time as my ride.
Last night on the way to chorus a doppleganger car was suddenly next to me on South Industrial. The young woman driving it seemed to have noticed the coincidence before I did, and was laughing when she saw me recognize that we were sliding parallel up to the light at Stadium, where she'd be turning right and I'd be turning left. OMG, I thought, Here's my chance. My last chance. She had a passenger in the front seat and was turning to that person, smiling and laughing, and seeming not to want to look at me again, seeing out of her semi-peripheral vision that I was making such a point of keeping my car right next to hers, and turning my head that way once we'd stopped, and facing her unrelentingly. She could probably feel my intensity and urgency right through two layers of safety glass.
Yeah, I'm weird. I know. But look at me. Look at me, young woman.
Thousands of milliseconds were ticking off; the light was going to change any moment.
Then suddenly her head turned back toward me, and I was ready: I did "Nice car!" with the exaggerated diction I now knew was needed. And....? She smiled, and laughed, and got the joke. !!! The dumb little joke I didn't want to let go of 'til I'd pulled it off. Which now I have. And which now I had, less than 24 hours before the appointed time for bidding farewell to the Subie.
You may or may not get why that then made me laugh and laugh, and feel light, or even lite, which is lighter than light, plus blessed by the little kismet wonders of the world, and about as sure as I ever get that I'm doing the right thing, as I chugged the rest of the way down the road to meet the people to sing.