The other day, I was driving the little stretch of interstate-highway that graces Delaware with its presence. As I was finishing my tenure on said highway, something grabbed my eye. A Nissan, of a specific make and model was in the lane next to me with New York plates. Now that I’m not in New York anymore, the plates tend to jump out at me in nostalgia.  Then, the New York Nissan changed lanes and allowed me to see the car in front of it.

As I was staring at another Nissan of the same make and model that happened to have Texas plates, I came to a conclusion: The license plates are trying to tell me something