01.23.06

Don’t drop dead of shock, now.

Posted in random, driving at 1:08 am by juliebug

Yes, I know, it’s another post. It’s shocking. ;)

For those who are not aware, I got my driver’s license last March, at the ripe ol’ age of 27 years and 10 months.

I resisted getting one for years and years and years because you just don’t need a car in Montreal. Sure, it’s occasionally handy, but you don’t need one, not by any stretch of the imagination. Besides, as prior blog designs attest to, I love the public transportation in this city.

I drove around the city this summer, got lost on more than one occasion, parked in the tiniest of tiny parking spots, have praised Jesus himself when I have found a street I recognize and have had other sorts of driving stories. I have not (yet) gotten a ticket or been in an accident. Yay!

I got my license in March. The day of a rather bad snowstorm. So bad, in fact, that the SAAQ (Quebec Automobile… something Society) offered to reschedule my test due to the conditions. When I said, nah, I’d rather do it that day, the woman warned me — if I lose control of the vehicle, we come straight back to the office, and I fail.

I shrugged. I really had nothing to lose. If I failed, I didn’t have a license. If I passed, I did have a license. Makes sense, no?

I kept control of the car at all times, I drove slowly enough to keep from slipping and the one time I did slip, I carefully steered into the skid and half a second later, was fine. I even parallel parked in four inches of snow. I was the only person that woman passed that day. And they closed the bureau not 20 minutes after they passed me.

This, dear readers, is all a prelude to tonight’s rant.

Parallel Parking
(or, I Should Sell Tickets to my Attempts at Parking as if it were a Sporting Event)

Due to the fact that I’m working at the election on Monday, January 23rd (hey, that’s TOMORROW. GO VOTE, Canadians!!!), my parents have lent me a car.

This evening, I realized that since my laundry room in my building closes at 9:30, I wasn’t going to have enough time to wash my dress pants. The alternatives? Wear a skirt (hahaha, NO) or wake up at ass o’clock to wash the pants before I go off to work. When I complained about this to my friend J, she offered me a pair of her pants for tomorrow.

After some consideration, since we’re very different body types and have never exchanged clothes before, I hopped in the car and went on over.

Driving down her cross-street, I saw a spot, but it was on the other side of the road. Then I turned down her street and saw a spot (again, on the other side of the road) really near her building.

Carefully, I pulled into a driveway and pulled back out and attempted to enter the parking space in a forward fashion, since it seemed large enough to do so. Ah, perhaps it would have been large enough to do so in a Saturn sedan, the kind of car I normally drive. Not so with a Nissan Pathfinder, the kind of car I was driving tonight. I was at an awkward angle, too, due to snow, so I said screw it and pulled back out before going up the street to that other (much larger) spot I’d seen on the way over.

This time, I elected to reverse in, properly, as I’d been taught. I could blame it (and I will, in part) on the snow and ice, but it’s largely my fault that it took me not one, not two, not three, but four attempts to back in before I didn’t cut too sharply, leaving me stuck at a bizarre diagonal angle. Of course, this time, I barely cut in at all, determined not to be stuck at a 37 degree angle to the sidewalk. And it worked. Kind of.

You see, folks, my parking is somewhat legendary among my friends and family. No, not my driving. My parking. I’m not a great driver, not a horrible driver, but a reliable driver. My parking, on the other hand… Let’s just say you can ALWAYS find the car I parked, because it’s at a crazy angle to the sidewalk.

Tonight, I said screw it after the fourth attempt. As I walked away from the car, which was a good foot and a half out from the curb, with the back end sticking out even further, I muttered to myself “How on earth did I manage to park so badly?”

This is not the first time I have muttered the same words.

It seems that despite my adequate driving ability, my parking is sorely lacking. In fact, it seems to be degrading. Parallel parking just doesn’t seem to be in my genes — except for the fact that both my parents and my younger brother (who has been driving for seven years) can all park beautifully. To boot, my mom has that Parking Karma. She ALWAYS finds a good spot.

Still, I guess I’ll get better with practice. Until then, $25 per ticket to see me attempt to park a car properly, with an automatic entry into a pool of “how many times will she have to start over?”, with a grand prize equalling 80% of the ticket money. (The remaining 20% will go to gas expenses and possible extra driving lessons to TEACH ME HOW TO PARK, even though my driving instructor obviously did a good enough job with me in order to get me to park flawlessly during my test in a SNOWSTORM.)

On that note, shower and bed in preparation for a long day tomorrow.

(Seriously. Vote.)

Permalink