Growing up in Brooklyn and then the New York suburbs, my father always impressed upon my brother and me that there were certain things you needed to learn when you were young that would stand you in good stead for the rest of your life. The first was a skill to fall back on so you could always earn money anywhere you were living. Regardless of how far your education took you, if you knew how to sell, type or wait tables you could always support yourself should the need arise.
The second thing you had to know how to do was parallel park. Anyone could pull a car straight into a spot. Backing in was a little trickier. But parking parallel in a tight spot between two other cars flush against the curb was a skill that once learned was a triumph forever. My dad always felt that having the ability to earn a living and fit in wherever you had to provided lifelong empowerment. Damn if he wasn’t right about both.
Every Sunday morning as soon as we got our learner’s permits, my father would take my brother and me to the parking lot of a now defunct Target-style department store back when Sunday meant the stores were closed and not having their once-in-a-lifetime sales event. In the middle of the empty parking lot, he would arrange the shopping carts end to end in a row with a generous space in the middle to park our car.
He then taught us how to position ourselves next to the car in front of the spot and when to cut the wheel and then when to straighten it out. Once we could do all that fluidly, he’d reposition the shopping carts closer together so the spot was smaller. We did that until we could put his Oldsmobile into a spot from either side with no room to spare. And when the time came, I put my teenage kids through a similar drill.
During my adult life, I have gone years living in places where parallel parking was unnecessary so the skill lay dormant. Nevertheless, when the need presented itself, I have managed to impress my riders by parallel parking within an inch of my life. After one such experience, a good friend suggested that my epitaph could read:
Here lies OSV
Beloved Wife and Mother
She could park a Hummer in a shoe box
In my recent visit to my uncle’s nursing home, I drove past a late-model luxury car in which two much older ladies were frustrated in their attempts to park in a prime spot opposite the entrance. I knew if they couldn’t get their car in, they’d have to park way on the other side and have a long walk around to the front. So I put my hazard lights on and pulled over and motioned politely for them to come out of the car. I figured a middle-aged woman wearing an outfit from Chico’s wouldn’t alarm them.
I offered to park their car and they were so excited. They gathered up their sweaters and canes and hurried to the front of the building where I told them to wait. With them and various onlookers watching, I landed that bad boy in one move and crossed the street with their keys to the sound of applause. They hugged me and said I made their day. The karma of good parking cannot be overrated.
Daughter snapped these shots in an NYC restaurant where a Pre-Halloween Episode broke out
arriving like bats out of hell
some heavy metal with your entree?
the audience rocks out too
taxi!