OT: Do You Believe In Coincidences?

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Just out of curiosity, I wanted to see if the McDonald's I worked in the early 70's was still there. Google maps shows that it is.
If the street view link below works, you will see a 3rd generation Honda Odyssey EX-L (2005-2010) Silver exterior with a grey interior and moon roof.
I currently own a 3rd generation Honda Odyssey EX-L (2006) Silver exterior with a grey interior and moon roof.
https://www.google.com/maps/@40.7591698,-73.8299356,3a,75y,257.3h,95.96t/data =!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sr1i1STFkEamTT3PipVIVIg!2e0!7i13312!8i6656
(40-18 Main Street, Queens, New York)
What the odds that the Goggle Street View car snapped an image of the place that I worked at over 40 years ago at the same time that the same model vehicle, in the same color configuration, that I currently drive was driving past?
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These kind of odds are poorly understood.
You should ask, what are the odds that something in that view will somehow be relevant to you. It might be a pedestrian wearing the same shirt you currently have on.
Life is full of the potential for strange coincidences.
I once drove past my mother and sister in the backwoods of Vermont. (Yes, I pulled over.) At the time I lived in NJ, my mom Long Island, my sister NYC.
What were the odds? Well, multiply those odds by a life full of potential acts that can result in coincidence.
--
Dan Espen

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On Friday, October 9, 2015 at 10:35:22 AM UTC-4, net cop wrote:

Why should I ask that? That is a much broader question than the one I asked. A gazillion things could "somehow be relevant" to me.
There's lot of oriental imagery in the photo. I have oriental friends.
There's a Popeye's down the block. I like spinach.
I passed a UPS truck on the way into work. My wife goes to beauty salons. I own a blue hoody.
I don't consider any of those items being in the picture to be the least bit coincidental, but by your definition, they are "relevant". So what?
The odds of my specific vehicle model - and within a 4 year range - being in the photo are much higher than something "relevant" being in the picture.

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So I went on Google Maps to see what was in front of the High School I went to in the 60's. Went to street view, looked around for about 10 seconds and spotted IT!! There is was plain as day, a nearly new Jeep Grand Cherokee in EXACXTLY the color I was thinking I would try to get ... and I have been giving very strong thought to trading in my old 92 Explorer on a nearly new Jeep GC in that exact shade of red. What are the odds of this coincidence????
I think the real question is, what are the odds that when you look at 100 google street views there will be something in some percent of them that reminds you of something in your current life? I would think the odds of that are actually quite high. That is a different question then what you seem to be trying to present, which would be what are the odds of seeing {this specific thing, in your case a particular vehicle}, which is completely different odds to the odds of there being {something but I don't know what till I see it} being there. Those odds are think are quite high but that is NOT the case you presented.
On Fri, 9 Oct 2015 08:17:32 -0700 (PDT), DerbyDad03

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In alt.home.repair, on Fri, 09 Oct 2015 10:35:18 -0400, Dan Espen

Wow.
I went to college in Chicago, and at the end of the summer decided to drive to Montreal for Expo '67, with 2 other guys. Parked elsewhere, on the street, and took the subway to the expo.
When I got back to Chicago, a friend from Silver Spring Maryland said he went to Expo '67 from Maryland and parked right behind my car in Montreal. Even though he'd never seen it, he recognized the U of C decal, the fraternity decal, and that it was a '50 Olds. He should have left me a note, but he knew I was there.
Better yet, when I left Chicago for NYC, I took the speedometer off a bicycle before I sold the bike. 3 or 4 years later, I went to install the speedo on my bicycle, but the heavy wire inside the cable inside was missing. How could I have lost it, I was very careful. A couple months later, I went to my parents' home in Allentown, Pa. and my mother said, "Do you want this?" It was a cable of just the right length, with just the right thing on each end. One end was square. She and my step-father were walking to their car in a shopping center parking lot and she found it on the ground. and picked it up and my s-f said, What do you want that for? Micky might want it. And I did!!!
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On 10/12/2015 12:39 AM, micky wrote:

I was in Montreal when they were building Expo. I drove down the street where you parked and saved a spot for you. We were there in Sept. of 66.
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In alt.home.repair, on Mon, 12 Oct 2015 01:04:36 -0400, Ed Pawlowski

I appreciate it. Yes, it was still empty August of '67.
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replying to DerbyDad03 , Bea@bako wrote:

https://www.google.com/maps/@40.7591698,-73.8299356,3a,75y,257.3h,95.96t/data =!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sr1i1STFkEamTT3PipVIVIg!2e0!7i13312!8i6656

Conincidences? Sometimes life is a B**ch. I try not to believe in coincidences, I'm a true believer that our future is being constantly created by our actions. But something happened that made me wonder if life (or god or karma) is just making fun of us.
I hated (still do) my old boss/partner, he was a cut-throat manipulative smart-ass. It took me a couple of years to cut all business with him, finally I had to file a restraining order (yes, it was that bad!) in court and change to a new industry. Silly me thinking I was free.
Well, I lived happily for a few months, until my daughter needed special music lessons. The best music teacher (40+ years + a room full of national awards) in town is retired, but accepted to give lessons to my daugher after school in his house (my daugher was very well recommended by her principal). We were thrilled, until we found out that the teacher lives right in front of my old boss/partner's house. :(
I didn't know it was possible to have such a bad luck. Our town's population is over 300,000 people, what were the odds that the music teacher lived right in front. And what were the odds that the many times I visited my old boss/partner I never saw the music teacher.
Well, I'm going back to the court to find out what to do now, then to find a good witch (LOL) to clear all this non-sense.
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On Fri, 09 Oct 2015 19:44:01 +0000, Bea@bako

Funny how that goes. In the 70's I lived on the north side of Chicago. My brother lived on the border of Indiana. He asked me to go with him to Wilmette where he had a interior painting job to estimate. He wasn't familiar with the north suburbs. We drove out there, and while he was busy "estimating" I chatted with the homeowner. He looked familiar, and I asked his name. Sure enough, he was the hotshot federal attorney who had been on the news lately, and was going after Harry Aleman, a mob hitman. It so happened I knew his eyewitness to the murder, and me and my wife were best friends with the witness's brother and sister-in-law. Anyway, I mentioned that and got something of a subdued grilling from the prosecutor. I knew I was being grilled by the questions he was asking about my friends. He verified my friendship with the friends later too. What I didn't know is that Bobby, the witness, was in the witness protection program. It was no big deal, except for the coincidence of me being drawn to that house by my brother. Of course he didn't get the job, and in retrospect I should have kept my mouth shut.
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<stuff snipped>

Now you've gone and blown my cover and Two Fingered Lefty the Louse is going to come looking for me. And his missing three fingers.
--
Bobby G.



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On Fri, 9 Oct 2015 19:54:02 -0400, "Robert Green"

1974 Edy was attractive as they come. Probably too petite to model, but she was a Vanity Fair cover girl in miniature. About 5' 3". She was sweet on me, but I was happily married, and didn't pursue her. I thought about it, but she was too "mysterious" to my taste. I met her in Wright Junior College where I got an associate degree. After my night shift at IH, I would drive directly to school and shower before my eight and nine o'clock classes. When done with those classes I'd repair to a soft chair in the quietest part of the school library, and sleep for a couple hours. At noon I'd feel Edy's soft hand on my shoulder, gently prodding me awake. We'd go from there to her car, and she'd drive to a nearby IHOP, where I'd have breakfast and she'd have coffee. Then back to my afternoon and evening classes. Same routine every Tuesday and Thursday. We did a fair amount of talking about photography, which was the only class she was taking, and some general conversation. At the IHOP, in her car, the school lounge, cafeteria, etc. The only thing I found out about her is that she was from my neighborhood, and her mother was still in their house on Central Park. She herself lived in a luxury apartment by O'Hare, provided by her "boyfriend." She got "cuddly" with me now and then. Once she chased me down in a school hallway, after I'd grabbed a cup of coffee from the cafeteria. We chatted about 5 minutes when a look of surprise appeared on her face, and she said "Wait, my coat." She went running back to the cafeteria and returned wearing her coat. It was a waist length mink coat. I didn't say anything. The girl was a cipher to me, and though she seemed attracted to me, I felt no real attraction to her. She was eye candy. I liked that. Anyway, the semester was 4 months long and we parted ways. 1984 - Ten years later I go to the Excelsior bar - downtown Chicago, where I was working at the time - to meet my buddy, who was a commodity trader at the CBOT. I asked the barmaid for a beer, and noticed her staring at me. Then I recognized her. It was Edy. She still looked good. We talked a while, mostly inanities, time flies and so on. But we had no real interest in each other, and me and my buddy had only a short lunch and some things to talk about. As we walked out of the bar, he said "That's something you knowing Edy from school. You know, she was Ken Eto's girlfriend." I told him I suspected she was a "kept woman," but didn't know who was keeping her. Eto had been in the news - fellow mobsters had done a failed hit on him. Here's the "odd" part , which I read much later. This is from the President's Commission on Organized Crime, Record of Hearing VI Chicago, Illinois.
MR. ETO: I would call Local 1 and identify myself as the Pizza Man and ask for Vince. MR. RYAN: Would he answer generally? MR. ETO: Yes, he would. MR. RYAN: What would you talk about then? MR. ETO: The time and date of a meeting. MR. RYAN: Would you say the place of a meeting? MR. ETO: I beg your pardon? MR. RYAN: Would you describe the place of the meeting on the telephone? MR. ETO: No, I would not. MR. RYAN: Was that because the meetings were at a pre-arranged location? MR. ETO: Yes, it was. MR. RYAN: What was that location? MR. ETO: International Pancake House on Belmont near Central. That was the same IHOP Edy would take me to. It was she who decided to go there. I had no problem with it, because it was the best breakfast place nearby. Coincidence? It's possible I dodged a bullet. But I'll never know.
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wrote in message

Only a photographer would know about such things.

Wright? WRIGHT? Rev. Wright? Are you a secret operative for the Dems? (-:

International Hellraisers?

International Hellraisers On Peyote?

George Orwell's year of doom!

A lot of married/spoken for women seem to like to flirt with guys to get their mates revved up (or, in your case, possibly killed!) I've got more than one of those stories since I (as is sounds like you) was the kind of person they liked to flirt with. I started dating a beautiful woman in college (way above my paygrade, if you know what I mean). One day, we're walking along the quad when someone bumps into me VERY roughly. After a few seconds Lynn says: "This is my EX boyfriend, Al." Al did not have a happy look on his face and a few weeks later Lynn went back home to Watertown and was never seen again.

It's possible she stuck a note to your back that said "I am Ken Eto."
Back in the day when my business partner Steve felt it was his personal duty to screw every married woman he could bed, one of the cuckholded husbands came to studio with a big butcher's knife asking for Steve. Shortly after that, we all had T-shirts printed up that said "I am NOT Steve."
--
Bobby G.



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On Monday, October 12, 2015 at 1:46:39 PM UTC-4, Robert Green wrote:
...snip...

I won't say anything bad about this one guy I work with, but if we were in that situation we'd be wearing T-shirts that read:
"That's Steve ----->"
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Steve went on to buy a Colt Python after the butcher knife incident and we set about looking for a new partner.
--
Bobby G.



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On Mon, 12 Oct 2015 13:43:34 -0400, "Robert Green"

I even think they can influence your college grades. So, since were on that subject... The next semester, in the same school, I sat next to Miss Chicago in a physics class, who took a shine to me. She would follow me around like a puppy, and actually insist on giving me a ride to the other end of the parking lot at the end of our class, which was my last of the night. I got to school late and had to park on the edges, and she was always close to the building. She had an all white Riviera - nice car. Don't know how it sounded over 10 mph though. Silly, but I enjoyed the 50-100 yard ride. Thing was the physics professor was her uncle, or father's best friend. I never quite got it. They were Greeks and it was a close community. He wasn't appreciative of this Anglo getting all his apparent ward's attention, telling from his glances. Well, I aced that class in every way. I was really surprised he gave me a "B." I figure he down graded me because of Miss Chicago, who had a perfectly innocent mini-infatuation. Or it could have been because of the time he was waxing about the metric system, and I posed the scenario - perfectly plausible to me - of measuring time metrically. He was rendered nonplussed. A rote teacher, apparently.

BTW, I had an obnoxious typing teacher in that school, who would question students in detail about missing class. Power tripping. I missed a class, and when he did the roll, he asked me why. I said "I was fishing." That shut him up. The guy never said a word to me until he saw me in the hallway with Miss Chicago, and he was all over me when I walked into his class, like I was his best friend. "Vic, is that your girlfriend? What's her name?" What an asshole.
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wrote:

Hell yes.

They handle pretty poorly over 110mph. (-: DAMHIKT Mine had a neat revolving drum speedometer that unlike traditional dials, didn't really shout out the speed to you. I ended up riding on a Signal 13 (officer in trouble) call in the Riviera, following police cars going substantially faster with bad rings that fogged the road ahead in blue smoke. I saw a guy nosing out of an intersection ahead, tapped the brakes and realized by how little I slowed that braking wasn't going to get me out of any upcoming trouble. Fortunately the blue lights and sirens of the parade of cars heading to the scene of the 10-13 made the driver stay in place.
The Riviera was so heavy that when it hit a dip in the road, it sort of lifted up in the air. I ran on that call "code 3" mostly to see if what my J-prof said was true: "When cops get a 10-13 call they drop everything to head towards the officer in distress." He said you could run stop signs, stop lights, speed and probably rob a bank without any police intervention. No one hassled me for joining the high-speed parade and probably thought I was an off-duty cop in his private vehicle that heard the distress call.

Hey, I had a crush on the beautiful delivery *girl* for the Vietnamese restaurant I liked. God knows how much banh mi I ate just to get to talk to her for a few minutes at a time. Short encounters have a mystique all their own.

I don't know of a more closely-knit nationality. They all know each other. My dad's boss was Greek and he knew Telly Savalas and was related to Maria Callas, the opera singer.

I can imagine. You weren't of the tribe.

I always wondered: If you can be nonplussed, can't you be plussed?

Stinkchronicity.

I think kept women like to flirt to remind their keeper that they still have options.

Hey, he was a typing teacher. He was already deep in hell before you came along. (-:
--
Bobby G.



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Vic Smith posted for all of us...

Enough of the back story. In Klinton terms did you ever have relations with that girl?
--
Tekkie

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On Fri, 9 Oct 2015 07:07:00 -0700 (PDT), DerbyDad03

Jimmy the Greek would figure it out. It has something to do with the frequency of ownership of that car. You own one. What's the chance of another being captured in that picture? Count the easily identified cars in that picture. Figure out what percentage of cars on the road are the same as yours. Do something with those numbers and come out with the odds. Easy for Jimmy.
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On 10/09/2015 02:44 PM, Vic Smith wrote:

Easier for Jung. He'd just call it synchronicity:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synchronicity
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When my mom and dad retired they moved to a farm about 4 hours drive to a n eighboring state. They lived near two very small towns, the larger being ar ound 6,000 population. One of the friends they made, turned-out to be neigh bors (who they never knew) that lived directly behind them, across the alle y. They had a cyclone fence and shrubs...so, even as kids we never saw insi de their yard!
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