The Problem is Me, Not You

I like cars. Oh, good, that's out of the way, now we can get on with the rest of our lives. I like cars a lot, that would be why I spent the last mumble-mumble-teen years working in car dealerships. Liking cars, though, has given me a bit of a handicap. Or is it a disability? Or is it a different-ability? Anyway, my problem is this, I may have trouble remembering people's names but I can always remember what they drive. Or drove. I can identify periods of my life with the cars I owned.

So, the other day I get an email from my good friend Eileen, then later that day see a grey Honda Civic hatchback like she drives and I was about to take a closer look to see if it was her when I realized it couldn't possibly be her. Another time, I see a green C/K pick up (that would be a full-size GM pick up) like my good friend and former co-worker Matt drives and I go through the same process. I haven't seen an orange Pontiac Vibe here, so I haven't "seen" my mother yet, but it will probably happen too.

When I belonged to the BCMA (Burnaby Coquitlam Motorsports Association, not the British Columbia Medical Association. Those bastards really do check references.) there were a bunch of people whose names I had no idea of, but I knew what they drove. In fact, it's been such a long time since I've been part of the club I probably remember more cars than people.

At this point, I haven't seen what any of my classmates or instructors drive, so I have had to work very hard to remember their names. This is very difficult, I have to remember f/stops AND people's names, sometimes at the same time. School is hard.