It's really quite wonderful when one's children become old enough to help with the mundanities of everyday life. Being able to say "Son, my car needs an oil change. Please take it down to the Jiffy Lube for me." Sending him on that type of errand had two-fold usefulness. Not only did my auto get the much-needed (most likely overdue) oil change, The Boy became exposed to new experiences and got more comfortable comporting himself therein.
I think it was right before the trip to drop him off at college when I again sent him off with my Camry, sporting it's bright rainbow stickers of course, to the Jiffy Lube. Now, he had driven my car on many other occasions because it's much more comfortable than the little pickup truck at his disposal. I'm not really sure how much thought he even gave driving our rainbow-stickered vehicles (although when we turned the little blue pickup truck over to him for his primary use, I did peel off it's rainbow). He came home from the Jiffy Lube errand with this story. Well it's not really a story and not really an event and not even particularly interesting, but it is something. I just can't pin a word on it.
One of the Jiffy Lube technicians was someone The Boy knew from high school. This fellow was like "Dude, what's up with the rainbow sticker on your car? You gay or something?" The Boy let him know that it was his mother's car and therefore her sticker. He laughed about it when he got home.
What I learned from this is not to assume that just because the car has a rainbow sticker is not necessarily an indication the occupants are gay. Maybe they just like rainbows. Or maybe they are doing a favor for their lesbian mom. Or gay dad. Or someone unrelated. Wish The Boy was home now because my car is yet again due for an oil change.