A long time ago (in a galaxy far, far away) I lived in a parish convent and drove one of the two parish cars. One day I was running errands in the red car, noticed it was almost out of gas, and stopped to fill it up. That evening I ran out to the grocery store in the tan car, which was also low on gas. The attendant remembered me and asked what I was doing. To side-step the long explanation (convents, poverty, sharing) I said I’d borrowed a friend’s car and was filling the gas tank before I gave it back. There was a pause. He then asked, “You want to borrow my car?”
I remember the colors of the cars because around that time I picked up a hitch-hiker. I know, I know. But my dad used to hitch-hike to work so it isn’t a negative for me. (I’ve read the parable of the Good Samaritan and I’ve read In Cold Blood; I choose to live by the former.) Besides, it was raining buckets. The drenched young man remarked, as he climbed in, “I knew you’d stop. You’re driving a red car. Red cars always stop.”
I’ve always wondered what would have happened if I had been driving the tan car.
– Blog entry by Sister Paula Gero