I caused my first car crash on a Friday the 13th.  I had been working all night and was heading back to the office.  Sick with a sinus infection, I sneezed blood all over my dash, and momentarily lost sight of the car in front of me.  I rear ended it at the intersection of Taunton and Brock Rd.

The lady I hit was an absolute sweetheart.  We drove to the accident reporting station together, chatting like old friends.  The police officer said “You didn’t have to come together, you know …”  But we did.

I admitted fault, so he charged me with careless.  Then, he flipped the ticket over and showed me how to fight it.  “I won’t be at court that day” he said.

So, I fought the charge and won.  How?  He didn’t fill out the date correctly on the ticket.  All it said was Friday the 13th.  Of what?  What year?

The judge tossed it.

It was my lucky day.

I was born on a Friday, but the 31st.  Which I consider the mirror of the 13th.  I have always loved the number “3”.  Especially “9” which is 3+3+3.  Three threes.  The number “1”?  No so much.  But I do like “13”.

Loved the movie.

Do people really not know that the 14th floor is really the 13th?  Have buildings given up that charade or is it still practiced?

I owned a black cat.  And walked under a ladder. I don’t think that’s why I got cancer.

TGIF13!  I hope you see a glimmer of superstition today.  It’s such fun!

The Fox

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