I love driving. I hate parking. Let me clarify that a bit. I love driving most of the time – particularly long stretches of road with the convertible top down and the sound of music or the silence of the evening swirling through the air. I don’t specifically hate parking in the sense of pulling into a space and placing the car in “P.” In fact, just recently I was complimented on my parallel parking skills. The precision of a perfectly executed sideways entry gives me great satisfaction.
The parking to which I refer is more the hunting for it and, then to add insult to injury, the paying for it. Now, I would rather circle a block a dozen times in the hope of a metered space for $3 rather than a quick stop in the $10 lot. (I realize you New Yorkers are asking about now, what am I whining about? Believe, me it’s not even the price that gets me.) So, what is the deal here? I honestly have no idea and it is not something I care to take to the shrink’s couch. However, I feel strongly enough that I must expound on it for a few more moments.
This week I have had to look (& pay) for more parking than normal. Tuesday, I had lunch with a long-lost friend. I rode my scooter downtown, quickly found the perfect spot marked “motorcycles only” and went to dine in the sunshine with my dear friend. Fabulous, huh? Then as we walked back to my “ride”, we noticed a meter-maid (I’m certain there is a more politically correct term, nonetheless), who was carefully adhering a parking ticket to my handle bars. Aaarrggghhh. I was not enraged or even particularly bothered at the moment. (My friend offered to pay for drinks the next time we gathered ☺). Since then, however, my aversion has raised its not-so-pretty head again and again until I decided I just needed to write about it.
So what is with that? I mean I am willing to drive or walk miles today to avoid the thought of looking and paying for parking again. My mind fantasizes about what kind of person would enjoy giving parking tickets for a living. Who are the bozos who placed all of the meters in MY neighborhood? Where’s the law of attraction when you’re looking for a parking place? Oh, I could go on and on. I was visiting a friend who lives in a high density area several weeks ago. I love this person and I adore spending time with her, but after 20 minutes of unsuccessfully looking for parking (there isn’t even any you can pay for in her ‘hood), I almost turned around and drove back home.
You might be wondering what is the point of this post? What self-revelation have I come to? Where is the spiritual component? The lesson to be learned? The questions to be asked? The point is I love driving. I hate parking. Parking is one of my pet peeves. I am most human behind the wheel. Hmmmmm.
So, I can’t end without a question (or two)? Parking? Any thoughts? How about other pet peeves? Where are you most human?
"an early driver" circa 1967? if you look closely you will see my father in the background. there is not a doubt my mother took this picture since she was infamous for cutting off people's heads (in photos).