OK, my story. In the early 90's on was driving south on Michigan Ave. in Chicago. There was a unique car to my right and a bit in front of me. The car was unique because it was way too normal. Imagine a boxy Olds '88 or '98 model. But the thing was made up of all different car parts. No emblems. Grey. Nondescript so much it stood out to me. The grey color was in no way a factory color, and too too dull. Not a ding, dent, or scratch. (City drivers have minor damage. Always.)
My inner signal went off. Pay attention. I crept up and got a glimpse of the driver. A stereotypical man like from out of an early 1960's ad. Grey suit, sat bolt upright, short haircut, age anywhere from 25 to 40. Featureless. Nondescript. I had a feeling there was not a scrap of paper, a match, anything in that car. Sterile. Window down, no radio, no smell I could detect because the winds off the lake were brisk.
He was not from around here, and I don't mean Canadian tourists.
This man wasn't a man. He was something else and was here to observe us.