The story behind the story on a photo I took for a recent post about new business signs in Wellesley:
I parked my car in Wellesley Square earlier this week, got out and walked maybe 20 yards down the street to take a picture of the new Papyrus sign. To do so I had to navigate around a big truck that was unloading boxes. After I took the shot, I returned to my car, flicked the remote unlock button and popped into the car. Though just as I was about to put the key in the ignition I noticed that I could actually see the passenger seat, something not possible in my car, which is overflowing these days with sports and other junk. I quickly slunk out of the car and then saw that mine, of the very same color and model, was parked about 10 feet behind the other (neither is a standard-issue Wellesley SUV, they’re just small nondescript cars). I was very relieved that the car owner didn’t come charging across the street all hopped up on coffee from the Starbucks shop.
Sadly, this isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened. The other time was about a year ago at Wellesley Free Library. I picked up some books, went out to drop them off in my car and then head back in to the library for a meeting. Except that I dumped them in the wrong car, another like mine and right next to mine, only noticing my error as I walked back to the library and got a whiff of the cigarette smoke that the other car’s interior left on my clothes.
Little did I realize that every time the Wellesley Police Department pleads with the public to lock their cars after the latest rash of car break-ins that they are also trying to save me from further embarrassment. I was at least relieved to hear that pretty much everyone I’ve told these stories to has had a similar incident of their own to share…
OK, so was it Mrs. Swellesley, then, who got into my brother-in-law’s car outside Starbucks in the Square one day, chattering away, and then looked at him and exclaimed, “You’re not my husband!”?