<p>To my deep regret, we own a black car. Technically it’s a metallic brown, but it only looks brown two days a year when it has been to the car wash and the sun tilts at a certain odd angle for 1.6 seconds. Every other day our brown car looks like black.</p>
<p>I should be able to distinguish our mid-size, boxy black car from other mid-size boxy black cars by the outline of the roof, the silhouette of the hood, the curve of the bumper or the shape of taillights, but I can’t.</p>
<p>Not only do I have trouble identifying our car, I have trouble identifying cars that good friends and long-time neighbors drive. Consequently, I wave at every car I pass in our neighborhood. If I don’t wave at a car and it carries someone I know, they’ll wonder why I’m unfriendly. Of course, if I wave at a car carrying someone I don’t know, they’ll think, “That woman must be batty!” It’s not much of a choice, but in the interest of maintaining friendships I tilt toward batty.</p>
<p>The worst part is running errands. I exit the grocery with a full cart, head to my car and wonder why it won’t unlock. I try a second and third time. I pull on the door handle that won’t budge, peer inside the vehicle and see unfamiliar books in the passenger seat, a soft drink wedged in the beverage cup holder and realize it’s not my black car.</p>
<p>I look around to see if anyone has seen me because it looks like I am attempting to break into a vehicle, although few car thieves are women pushing fully loaded grocery carts. Fortunately, no one has ever called the police on me. Yet.</p>
<p>If only someone would invent a key fob you could click to launch a giant, neon orange foam arrow that hovers over your vehicle with the words “You are Here!”</p>
<p>They could even be personalized as to color and message: “Seriously? Lost Again?” or “I’m Right Here Where You Left Me!”</p>
<p>Recently, the husband dropped me off at the entry to a store, so I didn’t have to walk through the pounding rain. I texted I was ready to be picked up, then dashed outside as a boxy black car pulled up and nearly got into the wrong vehicle.</p>
<p>The husband pointed out it could be worse, because there are even more silver cars than black cars and even more white cars than silver.</p>
<p>Maybe our next car will be blue—with big yellow stripes and red polka dots—something to subtly set it apart.</p>
<p>The other day I saw a woman walking up and down the aisle in a parking lot waving her key fob overhead, punching it frantically.</p>
<p>“Can’t find your car?” I asked.</p>
<p>“Right” she said with a look of exasperation.</p>
<p>“Maybe I can help. What color is it?” I asked.</p>
<p>I knew the answer the minute the words were out of my mouth.</p>
