The cutest car in the world

For instance, there is one other person who works in my office who drives a New Beetle (a silver one). On days when there is an empty spot next to the silver Beetle, I park next door with my lime green Beetle. The site of two Beetles side by side makes for a Hallmark moment. This isn't just a one-sided arrangement. I have yet to meet the owner of the silver Beetle, but on days that I park first, and there is an empty space, the silver Beetle is sure to fill it (well, not really fill it ... it's just too small to take up a whole space).

I giggle thinking about our two bubbly cars commiserating about the plights of roundedness in a sleek car world.

Beetle owners always seem to get excited when driving by other Beetles on the road. There's an understood brotherhood or sisterhood or whatever. The car is like the secret handshake. And because you have to be of a certain world outlook and personality type to drive a dome-shaped car in candy colors, with no leg room, and a trunk the size of a mini-cooler, we get each other.

Maybe in a way other people -- even your closest friends and family -- might not get.

They understand why the sight of my car all alone in a giant parking garage on New Year's Eve would prompt me to run over, and despite its dirt, give it a big hug. They understand the mother's pride I had for my Beetle when it squeezed in five people and five people's luggage from the Philadelphia Airport to a hotel in center city. They understand why, when faced with a color choice for a new shirt or sweater, I might vere toward lime green or complementing colors, so that I can match my car.

Maybe that's a little too weird.

I'm interested in hearing other people's strange behavior toward their cars.