“In 2016, I was planning a move to L.A. at the end of my lease at a townhouse in Ohio. The lease was set to end on August 31. As I began networking with people in California, I started to get very weird vibes about moving. Some were suggesting I shouldn’t at all due to the high costs, while others were encouraging it but maybe didn’t have the judgment that I trusted. Other things were contributing, but I was feeling very strange about it – hard to explain. It just didn’t quite feel right. During my last week at the rental, I asked the universe to send a definite sign on whether I should go.
On August 27, I completely cleared out my car so I could begin moving boxes to my parents’ house, who lived about 40 miles north. That night around 2 a.m., I was packing in the living room, when suddenly I heard my car start up outside. It had a very distinctive start-up sound, so I knew it was mine. I ran to the front door and opened it just in time to see my car finish backing out and driving away. The car was found a few days later totaled in the city. It was never clear how the thief started the vehicle since I still had the keys and no wiring had been messed with. It was surmised by police that he’d had a skeleton key for that make and model (perhaps it was the teenage son of an auto dealer or something).
Anyway, I got a full insurance payout on the vehicle. Other damages to my things were minimal, as the car had been completely cleared out for moving. While the event itself was very frustrating and even a little traumatic, to me that felt clear as day to be a sign that I wasn’t supposed to go to L.A. I have regrets in my life, but staying in town has never been one of them.”