The other night I went to a friend's birthday celebration with a bunch of her friends, most of whom I didn't know. It's always funny to get chatting with people and find out all of the things you have in common, especially when Victoria isn't a big place so chances are there's quite a lot. It was funny enough that one of the women was born in, and still has family in, my very small home town. But the next story that came out through the night I could not have dreamt up if I tried.
Of course you talk about your families, and no doubt it didn't take long for the twins to come up, not to mention Jordan and Rio. Eventually, someone asked what it was like to get the news we were expecting twins, and wondered what our thoughts were. I told her we were ecstatic in every other regard with the exception of having to sell our beloved Toyota matrix to buy the dreaded mini van. The conversation then moved on to far deeper things about the twins and their birth (imagine that).
A few minutes later my friend said, seemingly out of the blue, "So about your matrix, why did you love it so much?". I thought it was a weird question but went with it because, hey, we were drinking so a weird question wasn't really that weird. I proceeded to tell her all the things we loved about it and how sad we were to see it go. She then asked if I knew what happened to it and I told her we sold it to a young couple.
She then pointed to her friend across the room, who I had been with all night, and said "You sold it to her. They bought your car".
Needle. Off. The. Record.
I looked back and forth between the two women and thought my head was going to explode. They were nodding and laughing while I shrieked "WHAT" about four times while my brain and ears and heart all got in sync. I was completely shocked.
Turns out that the woman who bought the car remembered she bought it from an RN named Jordan who had a young daughter and a wife expecting twins. She had slowly put the pieces together listening to me talk about my family throughout the night, and then the deal was sealed when I mentioned selling the matrix. Hence the strange line of questioning, segueing into telling me the connection. Not only we were connected through this car, but my friend then realized that her husband had carpooled to work in it with this friend for years. So in fact, before they had ever known me, they had known the matrix. So weird.
This was not the end of the story however. If you think my mind was blown by all of that, imagine my surprise when she pulled out this:
My gas points card, in my maiden name (both names misspelled). Evidently I had left it in the visor when we sold it. She found it a year ago, after already owning the car for almost four years at that point, and for some reason never threw it away. What are the chances we would meet, she would piece the story together, and she would have my gas points card to be the final piece in the puzzle?!
I can't tell you how insane I think this story is. I also can't believe how happy it made me to know that another nice couple, with two kids no less, has our car. Seems ridiculous to be attached to a car, but we were. Neither of us had ever owned a new car (and haven't since) and we put a lot of thought into the purchase. We wanted something small enough that it would be good on gas, but big enough that we could have two (planned) kids. The matrix was it and we never questioned our decision as being anything but the best possible car we could have bought. There were a lot of memories in that car. It was part of the move in to our first home purchase. It was what we brought our first baby home from the hospital in. It traveled several thousand kilometers through the Southwest USA on an epic road trip with a 4 month old Rio. It - or should I say she, because she was named "Patrice" - treated us very well. I'm happy to hear she's treating her "new family" well too.
I can't for the life of me figure out why we were meant to meet up and discover this commonality of the car. My best explanation is that it serves as another sign that there are no such things as coincidences. What a fun way to be reminded of that!