my sister is 23 years old and about to buy her first car.

i think it’s something she’s probably relatively proud of, like i was when i bought my first car.

it’s exciting.

but.

when i was about 8, maybe, my dad took my two sisters and i out onto the busy street of new york city, where we’d just awoken to a warm egg and muffin breakfast that nana always makes for us when we visit.

three young kids all in tow, dad stopped short about two blocks from my grandma’s apartment and looked at a black sedan. he stood there like he recognized the car.

in fact, he’d recognized that the car he was looking at was now in the spot that our family station wagon had been in, just last night.

the family station wagon, stolen in new york city (queens, actually), is my earliest memory in a long, long string of car related annoyances i’ve seen us go through.

our family is car-cursed.

the upside here is that no one in my family’s ever been hurt in a car accident. knock on wood.

but sometimes i think we’d be best off if we all just rode bikes around.

i myself have been in two car accidents involving rolled cars. one was actually a passenger van.

my dad had a car stolen before he had us children.

and as a grande finale: i just found out that the car my dad lent our youngest sister for college…yup…it was stolen as well today.

know another family that’s seen three cars jacked?

perfect time to buy another one!

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