Is Your Blue the Same as My Blue?

My ophthalmologist gave me a test using 50 blocks painted from black to white with 48 pieces of grays in between. I got it perfectly correct. The dr's aide said I was the first person to get it correct in the ten years she had been working there.
Okay, I will now accept accolades and pats on the back now.

In 1981 I bought a 1963 Rambler Classic for either $200 or $400. I paid the Earl Sheib on Arden Way $59.99 to paint it the turquoise-green-aqua-blue that the far right side of the rectangle above calls /blue/. That was the most beautiful car I ever had, but not the coolest-looking, which would be the car I have now: a 2004 Prius, original silver-gray everywhere but primer-black front fenders and bumper from CarParts.com. It looks like a little spaceship. It looks like a genius high-school kid's science-fiction car that he bought from the neighbor for in trade for mowing the lawn, built flight into and experiments with it in the desert, being spied on by the CIA with binoculars, from a mountain, where they're about to make the bad decision to go down and capture him, triggering his casual /bye, fellas!/ literal flight to a secret cavern stocked with food and water and further experiments; he suspected the spying and planned for this. It looks like a plucky underdog robot Mexican race car. But imagine a turquoise-green-aqua-blue 1937 Talbot-Lago T-150 teardrop coupe, converted to electric. That wouldn't have to fly. It would win in all the art and design and coolness categories, with or without a winged chrome eyeball for a hood ornament.

I don't know if I like my answer. When I saw my line after the test, I think I left some green on the right side of the chart. I also rest the test half way in because I was over thinking it.