Dude, where's my car?

It was some time ago (about three weeks, I think) that I dropped off my car at the body shop to repair the hail damage from back in March.  The reason it has taken so long is that the repairmen needed my insurance company to send the adjuster back out, because the adjuster's estimate was lower than any of the body shop estimates I received.  Well, that and the body shop couldn't order my new roof until the insurance company approved it.  (Apparently, taking the car inside and looking at it under lights revealed a lot more dings than the adjuster could see outside.)

My insurance also covers the cost of a rental car (up to a certain limit).  If this were a quick fix, I wouldn't have bothered, since I walk to work.  However, I also have to get to bowling every Wednesday and Tubby's for Cheesesteak Friday, and I need a car for that.  The rental company provided me with a Jeep Liberty.  It's just a little larger than my car (a Chevrolet Equinox), and the gear shift is in a slightly different location (so when I put my hand out, the gear shift wasn't there, where I expected it to be).

When you're driving, do you ever jokingly tell yourself (or your passengers), "Hey, there's my car!" when you see the same model (especially one in the same color) on the road?  (And your passengers chuckle politely, because it's not really all that witty.)  Well, it was an eerie feeling when I drove by the repair shop and saw my car in their lot.  Hey, that really was my car!

I've been without my rental for a week now, since the insurance only paid for two weeks.  Thing One drove me to bowling on Wednesday night.  I'm supposed to get my car back today (Elmer Fudd will take me there after work).  It had better be ready, since Thing One and her mom still are on their diet, and it would be cruel to ask her to take me to Tubby's tonight.  I don't need my car; I need a cheesesteak!