-Bill Vaughn
One Saturday afternoon, with my trembling hands clutching the steering wheel, I sat there perspiring and summoning the Good Lord to perform a miracle and keep the roads deserted in the neighbourhood. It was the dreaded hour of my driving test. The driving examiner, a burly man who almost caused my tiny Laser to topple heavily onto one side, was rubbing his hands gleefully at my rather miserable attempts at composure and egging me to get the action started. Cursing inwardly at myself for all those driving lessons I skimped on but desperately needed, I was hoping he would not be one of those garrulous types who would distract me with his non-stop chatter. Wow, was that the pot calling the kettle black?
Anyway, I started quite confidently, even giving myself a mental pat on my back when I made a smooth transition between lanes. I believed everything was going on fine, despite his frustration at my slow speed of driving, when he asked me to stop and do a parallel parking. I never was good at driving, let alone parking - and after I saw his bewildered expression on completion of my parallel park, I gave up any hopes of passing the test. Later I heard him comment to my driving instructor "I asked her to parallel park and she parked in the middle of the road", though I believe that was an outright exaggeration, I was merely metres away from the curb, the middle of the road was still a long way off :) After exacting promises (from me) of not inciting road rage given my slow driving, he overlooked my parking indiscretion and gave me my license. I rode home in a daze knowing I was extremely lucky to have landed the licence on the first go, but still that did not stop me from doing an exuberant war dance and gloating over my license before a stunned Anna who was raving at the injustice of letting me loose on the road.
Eight years later, I can perhaps boast of reasonable driving skills but not when it comes to parking. I am the "squatter" of the parking lot who conveniently drives dang in the middle of two parking lots and takes up both places. Once, my Laser received a scar that would make Harry Potter proud because I misjudged the space between the last parking lot in the awfully crowded cinema complex and the wall. But above all, I still have not mastered parallel parking. So you can imagine my acute embarrassment when having found a parking spot right between two cars in front of the school, I was forced to do a parallel parking. Of course this time I did park in the middle of the road and was squirming awkwardly in my seat waiting for my daughter to make an appearance, so I can flee my crime-scene in my wretched shame-mobile before my parking skills became the highlight of the next P&C meeting.
I used to believe it was just me but then I discovered most of my friends are in the same league as me. Most women prefer to park a few blocks away than manoeuvre parking in congested and claustrophobic parking lots and definitely reserve parallel parking as the last option before hailing a perfect stranger to help park the car or ditch the car. In fact a week ago, while I was on the phone wheedling Anna to park for me in return for picking him up for our lunch date, I had my friend laugh at me and go “yeah I do the same”.
Ah well, my parking skills serve me as a reminder that I am not from Krypton and I am not expected to excel in everything I do but still the thought offers no solace especially today when my Laser has gone for servicing and I am stuck with Anna’s beast of a car for the school pickups. Duh, it is hunting around the block for today L
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