There's too many damn red cars around.
One fine night my brother decided that we'd make a chippie run. As was the usual procedure, he drove the pair of us up there, handed me a twenty and sat back to wait in the car.
Ten minutes later I emerged, clutching a box of deep-fried goodness and a little tub of curry sauce.
Across the carpark I trotted, flung open the door and started to climb in.
At this point the middle-aged woman sitting behind the wheel went very wide-eyed and began frantically digging in her purse for her attack alarm.
"Oops" I said, with a sheepish smile and climbed back out.
Meanwhile, little bro sitting behind the wheel of his car, ten feet away and an entirely different make and model, was laughing his bloody head off.
In my defence both cars were red.
(Big D, Sat 24 Apr 2010, 15:09, 1 reply)

My sister did that once.
She got in the wrong car thinking it was her husband's after nipping out to get some cash. They were on their way to a meal with friends and were running late as usual. She sat in the passenger seat without looking at the other occupant and waited patiently for a moment or two before barking "For fucks sake, DRIVE!"

Terrified, they did.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Sat 24 Apr 2010, 15:31, closed)