As you learned in my story about ride-sharing from LAX a few weeks ago, I really do try to spend the company's money like I'd spend my own. For example, I hate to pay for garage parking when I know I'm only going to be there for 2 hours. Who wants to pay $20 (or more) when, if you're willing to walk a few blocks, there's bound to be street parking?
This week, I had to go into DC for meetings three times. Each time, I knew I'd only be parked for an hour or two. So, I was intent on finding a spot on the street. It used to be that, when I needed to find street parking, I worried about one thing and one thing only -- do I have enough quarters in my car to feed the meter? That concern has largely gone away since both DC and Baltimore have changed most of their meters over to accept credit cards. I still carry a sandwich bag filled with change, though, in my car. I can't get out of that habit.
Anyway, I no longer really need to be concerned about having enough change. That concern has been replaced by an altogether new one -- am I going to be able to successfully parallel park?
It's true. All of a sudden, I've kind of forgotten how to parallel park. It started about a year ago. I've parallel parked so many times in my life that it had become automatic. I didn't even have to think about it. But, recently, I've started to have episodes where I just can't seem to get it right.
On Monday, I had no problem. I found a spot on N Street and, without thinking at all, next thing I knew I had squeezed my car into its space. Tuesday was an entirely different story. I was on 4th Street, over by Judiciary Square. I quickly found a spot, stopped the car, and went into action. "Oops," I thought as I was backing up. "This isn't going to work." Sure enough, I hit the curb. I pulled out (luckily, there was a lull in the traffic) and started the process again. I got exactly the same result.
There I was, on display for all to see. My right rear tire was lodged against the curb. The nose of my car was jutting out into the traffic lane. By now, there was a line of cars waiting for me to complete my parking job. Rather than attempt it a third time, I just pulled out of the spot and drove on, hoping that no one would stop me and ask me to surrender my man card.
As I sheepishly pulled away, the clouds opened and a beam of sunlight shone down just one block ahead of me. The beam guided me to a couple of empty spots on the curb right next to each other. There was so much open space that I could just pull right in without going through the parallel parking process. Thank you, God!
Yesterday, I had to go into DC again. I was on 17th Street, just south of Rhode Island Avenue. I found a spot, gulped, and started to make my attempt. Thankfully, I made it on my first try! I breathed a sigh of relief and then started to ask myself why I was having this problem all of a sudden.
I think it all started with teaching Nick how to parallel park. There's a whole multi-step process that kids go through. First, you have to have the car in the proper position, aligned with the car you're going to park behind. Then, as you start to back up, you have to remember to not turn the steering wheel until you get to the right spot. There are several more steps to learn. I'm sure it's the same exact process that I learned almost 30 years ago. Unfortunately, now I'm thinking too much rather than just going with the flow. I should know better since thinking always gets me in trouble. I might have to line some cones up in the driveway this weekend and get back to basics.
This is where the magic happens.
