Last week, Kate and I went out shopping for “cute fall sweaters”, because the weather here has suddenly gone from heat wave hot to bone chilling cold, as it does here in Canada, and if there was a prize for the country with the most ridiculous weather, we would win every year. Don’t complain to me about YOUR heat—we have that. And your rainy season? We have that too. Arctic vortex? Absolutely. Can we have all three things in the same 48-hour timeframe? You bet your ass we can. And we’ll throw in some fog just to make driving even more exciting and dangerous.
Anyway, Kate and I went shopping, which was tremendous fun, because we did that thing where we each put on something, count to 3, and come out of the change room at the same time like Ta-da! and then compliment each other on our fine fashion choices. We hit the checkout with several cute sweaters then went out to the car. I may have mentioned my car on a couple of occasions—it’s a black 2013 custom Chevy Sonic Turbo with a red trim kit and racing stripes. I adore it, and it only has a little over 80085 kilometres on it (not quite 50, 000 miles, but that doesn’t look as fun on a digital readout), which isn’t bad for a 7-year-old car.
As we approached the car though, I noticed something on the windshield, something which was, more precisely, tucked under the windshield wiper. It was a piece of notepaper torn out of a notebook.
My heart immediately sank, thinking that someone had hit my car in the parking lot and left a note either of apology—“I’m so sorry I hit your adorable car. Please forgive me”—or of defiance—“Your stupid, albeit adorable, car was in my way and I had no choice but to hit it. Next time, park somewhere else”—but in neither of these scenarios was there anyone standing around looking sheepish or angry, holding insurance papers. I pulled the paper out from under the windshield wiper with trepidation and turned it over. Written on the paper were four words: Ontario Sonics On Facebook.
My sunken heart rose again, like a ship that had hit an iceberg, floated down to the bottom of the seabed, and was then winched back up by one of those other ships that they use for documentaries on shipwrecks and treasure and whatnot, and to make a long analogy short, I went from worried to excited. A Facebook group JUST for Chevy Sonic owners? I mean, I’ve never been a club-type person—I don’t suffer from FOMO, the fear of missing out, as much as I have a FOBI-a, which is the fear of being included. But still, I’d always secretly envied those people on motorcycles who always give a knowing wave when they pass someone else on a motorcycle. And now, I could be just as cool, nodding my head approvingly or flashing my lights as I passed another Sonic on the road (although it’s often hard to tell if a Sonic is approaching you until it’s close enough to read the tiny chrome nameplate).
The second we got in the door, I raced over to the computer to look up the Ontario Sonic group on Facebook. And after a few minutes, I came to the undeniable conclusion that it doesn’t exist. Cue heart sinking again, like it was a shipwreck full of treasure and whatnot, and the winch that was bringing it up to the surface of the ocean had suddenly snapped because Carl, the guy responsible for keeping the winch all lubed up, had a hangover and had forgotten to oil it, or whatever you do with winches anyway. There were several things that came up in my search: Ontario Antiques and Collectibles, Master Gardeners of Ontario, and Ontario Tornado/Blizzard Watch (it has hundreds of thousands of members, proving my previous point about the weather here, where you have to simultaneously watch out for tornadoes AND blizzards). And all I can do now is wonder: Why would someone write the name of a non-existent Facebook group on a piece of notepaper in turquoise ink and then put it under the windshield wiper of my car? Or…was it a suggestion? Perhaps the anonymous admirer was hoping that, with some encouragement, I would CREATE a Facebook group for Sonic owners. Alas, I would be the worst person to start a Facebook group, mostly because I would never go to the meetings I’d scheduled and would bring gluten-free cupcakes to the bake sale. But I would JOIN such a group if it existed. And now I’m off to join the Ontario Tornado/Blizzard Watch group. I hope they like gluten-free cupcakes.
(Update: Apparently there IS a group–thanks to Babbitman for his intrepid sleuthing. I’ve sent a Join request so we’ll see what happens next. To be continued…)
(Update to the Update: I am now a member. It’s a very strange group and I don’t think I want to be part of it. Someone posted asking about a “catless downpipe” and another person is asking for help to perform a “second cat delete”, and all I can think is these people hate cats…)