If It’s Red…

Although dreading the loss of several hours that morning, I took our Rav 4 to the dealer’s garage for a courtesy check-up. Although it seemed like everyone had brought their car in that morning, the garage mechanics finished with our vehicle in record time.

The man at the check-out desk handed me the lone key and pointed. “That’s your car, over there, hidden behind the other vehicles.” I followed his gaze and spotted our car’s red roof in the farthest garage bay.

Anxious to get on with that day’s to-do list, I hurried around the other vehicles and hopped into ours. I slipped the key into the ignition, but something seemed off kilter.

Then I noticed  a jumble of plastic bags on the front seat, bags that weren’t ours. Strange, these mechanics had always been meticulous in keeping our cars clean. A glance into the back seat revealed a gym bag and sweatshirt.

The awful truth dawned. This was a red Rav 4 but not our red Rav 4. I scooted out of the car and actually looked at the vehicle for the first time. This car was several years older than ours and even had a different design.

I returned the key to the apologetic check-out man who said our car would be ready in a few minutes.

Was I mad? No.  Embarrassed? Yes.

This mix-up was as much, if not more, my fault as the check-out man’s. It simply exposed an undeniable fact: The make, model or year of a car doesn’t matter to me. I go by color. If it’s red, it must be ours.

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About Kathie Mitchell

Kathie enjoys country living, time with family, playing cornet in community bands, crafts, gardening, and writing.
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