Car Doors

Walking home along Como avenue, a deep-fucscia probe pulls onto the street coming towards me. As she turns, the passanger door of her car swings open towards me (for no apparant reason). Realizing the folly of driving with one door open, she slows down near me. As the driver asks me to close the door, I slam it shut for her. We both go our separate ways.

Only later, do I start wondering how her door swung open as she made the left turn? Why was she on that frequently empty street? Who buys a deep pink car? How do you spell fuchchsia?