Story time.
Anybody ever read (or watched) Stephen King's "Christine"? It's about, basically, a Plymouth Fury that is possessed by some evil supernatural force. The car repairs itself, kills people, stuff like that. If you haven't read/seen it, I'd suggest it, it's pretty damn good.
During my second tour in Iraq, I realized that the Husky I had was the exact same Husky I had the FIRST time I was over. Since Huskies are made to get blown up, and they get hit often, it's rare to see one that lives more than a few years (especially since it was one of the THREE in Iraq the first time I was over). It was also a Mark I -- most by that time had been replaced by the Mark II, which is tan instead of green, has an automatic transmission instead of a manual, and comes with an air conditioner unit. (Yes, being in a dark green vehicle with no air conditioning in 150-degree heat DOES royally suck.)
Since I was one of the few thousand Soldiers in the Army with Route Clearance experience, and one of the few dozen with Husky operating experience, and since it was a manual, and especially seeing as it was the same Husky I had the first time I was there, it became MY vehicle. But it was old, it had been in a lot of hits, and my Company was trying to phase it out and replace it with a newer Husky. Mine ... well, apparently, it didn't like this idea.
We usually ran with two Huskies. Since my Platoon only had the old green one, we had to "borrow" one of the newer Huskies from another Platoon to run our missions. As soon as our Commander made mention that we would be replacing the old Husky with a new one as soon as we could, weird things started happening. I, of course, hated this idea -- it was MY vehicle, I could operate it better than anybody else in the Company could operate one of the newer ones, and it had slight sentimental value to me.
Literally four or five missions in a row, the other Husky went down. Something simple would happen -- it would get hit only hard enough to blow a wheel off, or the alternator would go out, or a belt would slip off. Sometime small and simple -- but for four or five missions in a row, I found an IED or two every mission, and my Husky would be the only one driving through the gate on the way back in on its own power -- the other one would be being towed. I half-jokingly mentioned how it was like my Husky was "willing" the other (newer) Husky to go down, so that it could prove that it could still do it's job. I talked to the Commander, and he decided to let me keep the older Husky instead of trying to replace it.
And so I dubbed her "Christine". She ended up getting hit a few times, but only small hits, nothing like the other Huskies took. (The times I was hit big, I wasn't in Christine.) I was told multiple times that she was on her last legs (err, wheels), and that, since they didn't make parts for the old Huskies anymore, the next (even small) hit would be her last. But sure enough, every time she would get hit, somehow, there would always be replacement parts. The mechanics would find something, or they'd find something similar that worked with it. At the end of the year, only one Husky had gone the entire time with functional power steering -- Christine. (When you're in a nine ton vehicle that sits three feet off the ground and whose front and rear ends are made to get blown off, it doesn't have much for shock absorption, and it's a complete bitch to steer without power steering.)
Fast-forward a little bit, and I get back Stateside. I hadn't had my truck for too long, and I hadn't given it a name yet, so I decided to name her after my Husky -- Christine.
Fast-forward more. I send in for Purple Heart license plates. And I get them, just the other day. ... And I start thinking.
The car in Stephen King's book/movie was a 1958 Plymouth Fury.
My truck is forty years newer, a 1998 Ford Ranger.
Stephen King's car is red, with a gray top. Ford Red.
My (Ford) truck is red, with a gray bottom.
Stephen King's car was named "Christine". So is my truck, but I guess this doesn't matter much, since I named it after my Husky, which I named after Stephen King's car.
And I got my new license plates the other day ... which include the numbers 666.
Anyway, to make this into a topic. Anybody else have any weird things happen to them like that? Odd coincidences, weird superstitions, etc.? (I mean, I'm not superstitious so it ain't like I'm freaking out about it, but I do admit that it's definitely odd.)
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