I am really bad with car types. Really bad. Like one time I wasn't sure where I parked and walked confidently up to a mustang thinking it was mine. Because it was the same color as my car. I drive a Camry. Another time I was looking for a Mercedes in a parking lot and said, "Well I guess it's not here". I was standing right next to it. I really wish I was making these stories up, but I'm not - not at all.
A few nights ago we were standing in the farm driveway talking with our neighbor, Kelly...
Kelly: .....Some people don't even wave when I pass by them.
Martin: I always wave to you.
Me: Well. Give them some credit - maybe they're bad with cars. I'm horrible with cars and can never tell who anybody is by what they're driving. I can't recognize the car.
Kelly: I never pass you, but you wave like you have no idea who you're waving to when I drive by and you are just standing in the driveway.
Me: See. I'm horrible with cars.
...later the same evening.
Martin and I went up to the lake property to help Mitchell and Garrett put the dock into the water. We had just left the property and were driving down the road, headed home.
Martin: (fist pumps the truck that passes us going in the opposite direction)
Me: Who was that?
Martin: A fist pump
Me: No, who was that.
Martin: A fist pump.
Me: I know that! Who was in the truck.
Martin: Are you joking?
Me: No, who was it?
Martin: It was Mitchell. We literally just left at the same time as him. He drove down the road and turned around. You are really bad with cars.
Once again, I would like to reiterate that I wish I was crafting these stories in my head. Unfortunately, I am not. I am just really bad with cars