The Red Car

I drove my 2002 white Honda Civic, whom I fondly refer to as Zoe, through the campus’ welcoming black gates. Almost intuitively, I unleashed the company badge from my belt and handed it to the middle-aged African-American man who greets me nearly every afternoon in my new hometown of Bristol, CT. I don’t know the man’s name, but I kind of like it that way.

“You’re all set, Troy. Go right ahead,” he says in his Southern-style accent.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good one my man,” I say with a sincere smile.

The lever lifts, and Zoe and I make our usual left turn into one of my company’s several parking lots. Every day, I reflect on the exchange the nice man and I just shared. If only everyone could treat each other with that kind of respect, the world would be such a happier place.

We arrive at the stop sign and look both ways to make sure none of the company’s seven-thousand employees is crossing the road. The parking lot sits to our left, and we zoom past its first entrance. And the next one. And the next one.

And the next one.

Until finally, we turn left into the last row of the lot. We glide toward the end of the lot as I strap my badge back to my belt, roll up the windows, and turn off the Mumford & Sons emanating from Zoe’s speakers.

Then, I looked up and saw it.

I couldn’t believe it.

I’m not a religious man, but I do understand and appreciate its place in the world. Whether it’s Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, or my personal favorite, Zoroastrianism, or any other religion you can name, one universal truth lay at the core of these different belief systems: we are not in complete control of our own lives.

These different religions require you to place your trust in a higher being, an all-knowing deity who always acts with your best interests in mind. In many cases, our lives are predestined. Your eventual fate is chosen for you from the get-go, and nothing you accomplish in your time on Earth can change that.

Whether you subscribe to the doctrines of predestination isn’t the point. We must all accept things happen that we simply cannot control. For example, you make a quick trip to the market to pick up that olive oil you need to cook dinner tonight. You only have that one item, but you see long lines at every register. And literally every person has an entire cart-load of stuff. You go to the self-checkout machines to find they’re out of commission for the day. Rage fills every fiber of your body, and you mope over to a line and stew in frustration as you await your turn.

Some things are just beyond your control. And you have to accept that.

OK, now back to the story.

The second I saw it, a dozen questions immediately flooded my head. Feelings of bewilderment preceded the anger crawling up my spine.

I’m the only one who ever parks in the last two rows of that lot. And on top of that, I park my car every day in the same spot in the top right corner, the absolute last spot, which provides the farthest walk to my office from that parking lot. Zoe is always all by her lonesome, but she’s O.K. with that.

So what the hell was that coupe red car doing there? That’s MY spot!

Enraged, we pulled in to the spot directly to the left of this traitor, this outsider. Doesn’t its owner know this is Zoe’s home for nine hours every day?

I peered through the window of the car to find any trace of this mystery person’s identity. Nothing. A little emoji pillow sat on the dashboard of the vehicle. I didn’t trust its deceiving smile. I think it was reveling in my sudden misfortune.

I sadly departed from Zoe and made the self-imposed six-minute trek to the office.

When it was time to go home, the red car showed no intentions of leaving anytime soon.

The next day, we pulled in. The red car, probably unaware of the stress it was causing us, sat there again.

This happened every day for the next 10 days.

I’m not even sure if the red car and its owner knew they were engaged in a war, but we certainly did. And we were losing, badly.

Now let’s be real--it would be downright absurd if I were seriously troubled by this for more than two minutes. Zoe and I resigned to our fate and started laughing about it on the third day.. Refusing to believe another person in their right mind would park in isolation like I do every day, I concluded the owner had abandoned its car, at least temporarily. Maybe the person was out of town and wanted his/her car out in the boondocks so he/she could find it easily upon returning. There was nothing I could do about it.

Some things are just beyond your control, and you have to accept that. You’re going to come across hundreds of Red Cars in your life. People will always try to lure you down to the dumps with them--misery loves company, right? Your friend will get promoted over you. Someone will always have bigger muscles or longer eyelashes (that’s what women care about, right?). A world of people will earn more money than you. You just have to accept it and let it roll off your shoulder, put on a smile, and go kick the world’s ass.

Just don’t get locked into staring contests with an emoji pillow. Or refer to your car as a person.

People will think you’re crazy.