I’ve never seen an orange car.
I’ve never known anyone who owned an orange car.
No one drives orange cars in the town I live in. I’ve always just assumed all the orange cars were driven in other cities.
You can’t even buy an orange car where I’m from. The dealerships here sell vehicles in a variety of colors, but orange is not one of them.
Which makes what I see on television beyond me.
On television, everyone drives an orange car.
A doctor speeds to an emergency life-saving surgery in an orange luxury sedan. A lawyer zips to the courthouse in an orange sports coupe. After an elderly tourist couple was randomly bludgeoned on the street, a crime scene investigator drove to the murder site in an orange SUV.
The bad guys drive orange cars, too. The man who held the kids hostage in the public elementary school drove a beat up orange station wagon. The serial killer who carved cryptic messages into the chests of his victims drove an orange pickup. And a flashback showed a child molester playing with orange toy cars as a kid.
Even a school bus full of mothers and their children that teetered off the side of the suspension bridge was orange. And the cabs trapped in a tunnel when the evil-doers detonated a dirty bomb were not yellow, but orange.
With the direction the world is heading, it won’t be long before people start driving orange cars where I live. I look out the window hours each day, nervous, anxious, fearful. Could this be the day an orange car speeds past?
David Holub designs newspaper pages five days a week in Corpus Christi, TX. When not revolutionizing visual communication, he finds time to shower, lift weights and hold hands with his wife. His work has appeared at Cafe Irreal, Muse Apprentice Guild, The Dream People and elsewhere. E-mail: edmccaffrey[at]juno.com.