Years ago, some people began to have dreams about me. Bad Dreams. Dreams that led them to believe that my life was in eminent danger and I would probably die in a car accident. In a RED car. My mother was the first to have this dream, and upon waking, began calling me and everyone I know. Unfortunately for her, I was in college at the time and drunk - and unavailable to take a phone call....cause I was drunk. Over the next few years, I would learn that others had the same dream or variations of that dream, with the one constant being the RED car. At that point, I took it as a serious sign from God (?) not to own a red car, which morphed into my refusal to even ride in a red car which really pissed my husband (RIP) off when he brought cute little Mazda Miata covertible home and I made him take it back. That fear has stayed with me for years, and recently I have found myself driving my son's reddish Intrepid and my mother's reddish Lincoln because my stupid little silver car BLEW UP!! I have been telling myself that these vehicles are not really RED, but a variation of red, and therefore, somewhat safe..ish. Today, I am officially trading reddish Intrepid, reddish Lincoln and red golf cart in for my new vehicle - a Dodge Caliber.
And it's red. And I am a fucking moron (or brave warrior princess who laughs at death).