We were hiking down the Providence Canyon trail when we came upon some parked (junked) vehicles, made actually quite charming by the snow. There was a park sign that explained that the vehicles had been parked there when it was privately owned farm land and that since they had been there for so long, they had become habitats and so were going to be left in place.
As we approached the first one, B said, “That station wagon was my first car.” (Well, not THAT one, but one like it.) “I bought it for $125---and it ran! It was a 1958 Chevy Nomad.”
But wait! It gets even better.
At the second one we came to--- the one with the tree growing through it ---our friend said, “This was my first truck!”
Pretty funny coincidence.
Of course, there are other coincidences in this friendship. One of which is that their fathers are buried just a couple of graves apart and died within a year or so of each other. They never met. It was only visiting graves that the discovery was made.
Life is always interesting.