ford probe

Sometimes things hit me, and make me laugh. And, I'm thankful for the laughter.

When I was in high school, I so badly wanted a Ford Probe for a car. Really, really bad. A red one. My best friend had one, and I cried when she got hers. I didn't think it was fair that she got one and I didn't. Another friend of mine had one, which more or less irritated me because he got any car he wanted, every other month it seemed. Yes, I wanted one. It was my dream car.

But no, I got the hand-me-down Mercury Sable, which I totalled by falling asleep at the wheel and driving it into a ditch. At 55 MPH. Then, I got the junkyard Chevy Cavalier, which had previously belonged to a drug dealer in town (didn't know that when I bought it!). Oh, and the cops pulled me over because they thought I was him. Hilarious, right? The list of cars that were "mine" throughout the years continues, though none quite as exciting as those two.

And none, I repeat none, included my dream. A Probe.

Or, so I thought.

Turns out, when I think about it, over the past ten years, I got my probe. Or two. Or four hundred. I've lost track. Just not exactly the kind I had hoped for in high school though. Oh, the irony.

For some reason, that car just doesn't seem very appealing to me these days. Hmpf.