The Parking Spot

It was very quiet on the streets when I drove back into the neighborhood after 10:00 p.m. last night. No movement. No parking spots! I drove around my block and noticed at least 3 half-spots, a 3/4 spot and a huge dumpster. I kept trying and drove around in a 3-block radius. Still nothing. My husband and I have had a theory as long as we've known each other (17 years) not to park in a parking garage. Tepper would be proud.* About 10 minutes later, I was lucky to find a spot. It was a close bumper-t0-bumper effort with several adjustments. Let's just say that's it's a good thing that I have power steering. I parked 8 inches away from the curb, perfectly within the 12-inch allowance. I stayed in my car long enough to practice the dismissive wave so many of us use to tell a fellow driver that we're not going out.*

When I took my driver's test so long ago, I almost didn't pass the parallel parking task. It's all I do now, and I'm quite adept at it. We need to move the car twice a week for alternate-side parking regulations, designed to allow free access for the street cleaners. Sometimes Thursdays and Fridays are all about the car because of this. When the kids were home with me, it was no easy task to get them out of the house on time. When I can't find a spot, I can parallel park next to the cars on the other side of the street, only between 11 and 2. The timing is very strict. A car left in a parallel spot after 2:00 will get a hefty ticket.

Thankfully I don't have to worry about it today. It's Wednesday.

*Tepper Isn't Going Out: A Novel, by Calvin Trillin.