137.

Meet the Swaggin' Wagon. It's a '95 white Volvo wagon my parents just purchased for their busniess, but after some convincing that it's too cute to be used for traveling to foreclosed on houses and to be driven by a bunch of men with ladders strapped on the roof, it's mine! I'm trading Dora for it. (For those of you who don't know, Dora is the Ford Explorer. Dora the Explorer. Get it? I'm so funny.) 

So back to the point: not only is this new (ahem.."new") car swaggin', it has the best lisence plate number EVER on it. My Papa was a firefighter for years. I could go on forever with stories of the fires he fought, the lives he saved, and the shenanigans he pulled, but that's aside from the point. His badge number was 137. I kid you not, ever since he was assigned that number, those 3 digits have been following us since. Allow me to provide you with a few incidents...

1. 137 is on the Swaggin' Wagon's plate (duh).
2. The day my Papa passed away, the winning lottery numbers had sequences of 1, 3, and 7. The numbers he had been playing his entire life. Go figure!
3. The landline for my internship is a jumble of 3's, 7's, and 0's.
4. My uncle once built a house that was given #317 for it's address.
5. A while ago, on my Papa's birthday, my mom looked right at the clock at 10:37 when she remembered it was his birthday.

This sounds SO stupid, and I have a gazillion more examples of 137, and I promise I'm not supersitious! Sometimes I think we tend to pay more attention or give more credit when something happens involving 1, 3, or 7. Case in point: I love, love, love being reminded of Papa everyday. That darn number can show up anytime, anywhere in my life!

Oh, and PS: There are 5 cars sitting in our driveway. Everytime I look out the window or drive by, I think of how it looks like there is one serious hip happenin' party going on, or how redneck we look (at least all the cars function and are not dead, so I think we get less redneck points for that).