Lately, I've been hunted by Subaru Bajas, those half-car non-trucks that have usurped the Brat as the vehicle for folks who just can't make up their mind. I don't know why the Bajas have chosen me, but everywhere I look, there they are. I'm just that attractive, perhaps.
In particular, it's the gray Bajas that seem to seek me out. A whole pack of bleak, gray Subaru Bajas, out for blood or romance or who-knows-what. I must've seen a dozen just in the last week or so.
Today, I was pondering this odd situation while driving into town. It conjured a vision in my mind's eye, sugar-plum-style: the Bajas, led by their gray leaders, sniffing me out wherever I go. And it was then -- speak of the devil -- I rounded a corner and passed yet another Subaru Baja, coinciding almost exactly with my woolgathering about them.
There's an entry for my synchronicity log, I thought.
However, this incident wasn't yet deserving of a blog post, for a post of every such experience I have would make my blog read like a book. No, it was only a short time later that the Baja incident was upgraded to blog-worthy.
I had just entered town, on a back street behind a supermarket, when I was thinking of my passing the Baja on a blind bend a split second after thinking of Bajas. I was replaying it in my head, in order to make sure I wasn't injecting miracle into a simple coincidence, and this led to the thought of Well, the Baja I passed wasn't a gray one. Because it wasn't: that Baja had been black, and at the time, I'd been thinking primarily of gray ones. So if I had yet another thought-synchronicity on my hands, then why hadn't that last Baja been gray, huh?
No sooner had this thought crossed my mind than a car appeared on a side street, stopping to let me pass: another Subaru Baja, coinciding perfectly with my thoughts as if cued. Except, this one was gray.
(It had pulled up alongside the supermarket I was driving the length of, as to be invisible to me until it rounded the market's corner and stopped. Just like the black one of minutes before, totally invisible to me around the bend, so that neither of my Baja-thoughts could've been triggered by sight of the cars, even subconsciously.)
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