I just had a moment, trying to parallel park on my dead-end street, amidst the snowbanks, when I actually felt that I could not survive it. It wasn’t going to work. I needed a deus ex machina. A car was coming at me from one way. Waiting. Okay, so that’s pressure. Then, worse, a car came at me from the opposite way – from the driveway at the end of my street. Also waiting. Again: pressure. I honestly had a moment, full of confusion, agony, and self-hatred, where I thought: “I canNOT do this.” I looked for someone to save me. The space was so narrow – my maneuverability was NIL – and I had a two-pronged firing squad staring at me with high beams. I talked outloud to myself throughout. “No … No … i cannot … whatdayawantmetodo??? I can’t move … I can’t … oh … okay … back up a bit … but … God … no … how close am I to that hummer … shit … okay … back up … try again …” It was a timewarp of devastation. I may never recover emotionally. However, my car is now parked.
It reminds me of one of my favorite moments from my trip to Ireland with Allison. Not THE favorite moment (because that slot is already taken) … but it’s up there!! We were driving along the southern coast. We took turns … being driver and navigator. At this point in our journey – Allison was driver, and I was navigator. I can’t even remember where we were, actually – but it was a one-street town – literally – a curvy road going over a bridge, with a couple of shops and pubs on the other side … and maybe we were hoping to stay in the town, can’t remember … but I got out and ran into the B&B on the curve – and Allison, handling the stick-shift in-the-left-lane car … tried to back up and pull into the parking lot. She stalled. Remember … the stickshift is on the lefthand side … huge brain adjustment … and she couldn’t make it happen … she couldn’t get it into gear … back up … turn … and get into the parking lot. Most of this happened while I was inside, checking on rates and vacancies, etc. REMINDER: when I say one-street town, I am not exaggerating. It was one road, with a wee curve in it … over a bridge … and that was the town. Allison struggled, cars coming from that way and also this way … stopped, waiting … stretching over the bridge, and stretching off into the town … waiting for this crazy American driver to figure it out. (Irish people, that particular week, were immune to shock at crazy American drivers.) The emotional pressure was tremendous. (I missed all this.) She did teeny 3 point turns … she stalled … she jerked forward … (and Allison is not a bad driver … but the combination of stick-shift-on-left-side, driving-on-left-side … and teeny medieval road with lines of traffic on either side … sunk her).
She stalled. For the 10th time.
Oh, and let me tell you the most amazing part of this story: NOBODY BEEPED AT HER.
Not ONE person beeped in annoyance. Everyone just waited … patiently … knowing that the poor American girl was just trying to figure it out … no need to get wrapped up in rage about it …
I loved that. That’s when you know you’re in Ireland. When not ONE person beeps at you in a moment like that.
And Allison finally gave up. I love her for this. She got out of the car and basically shouted, in the vicinity of both waiting lines of cars… “I cannot do this! I cannot!” Shouting at the lined-up cars, throwing herself on the mercy of the Irish court of public opinion.
And a man – a friendly big burly man (God bless him, I love him forever … for how he treated Allison, with such kindness and practical assistance … and how he did not judge … he just fixed it …) got out of HIS car … came over, asked her what the trouble was, she explained … panicked … and he was calm as could be … “No worries, girl … do ya mind if I drive your car? I’ll park it over there … okay?” He gets in, had to push the seat back to accommodate his girth … jams it into gear, does a perfect little 3 point turn – zip, back, over, zip … and pulls into the wee parking lot of the gift shop across from the B&B.
No biggie.
I love him for his attitude. Allison looked for kindness in her fellow man … in a moment of panic and need … and found it.
/It was a timewarp of devastation./
Hahahahahahahaha!
The girl who successfully parallel-parked a manual-tranny Westfalia microbus on a hill in San Francisco will ABSOLUTELY recover emotionally from such novice-level parking terror.
I loved this post. I just had one of those moments yesterday morning, where I was blocked by a snowdrift and the only way out was backwards. I have never been able to figure out driving backwards. I just have no idea how to steer and manuever in reverse.
I gave up, too. My son and I abandoned the car and hiked to get my husband, who was able to retrieve it easily, and who told me that I’d come inches away from backing off from a bridge and into a creek. Sometimes the best thing is to give up, to recognize that you’re in over your head.
But I totally related to both yours and Allison’s panic. I panicked. I was, as my son said later, “totally freaking out.” My 11-year-old son was patting my back as we walked and reassuring me, saying, “Everything’s going to be ok, Mom.” Way to model confidence, eh? I just completely lost my shit. *blush*
Diana – ohhh your son is so sweet!!!
Yeah, I had a couple seconds there where I was like: in no way, shape, or form is this EVER going to work – unless my car can rise up like a helicopter and float to another block.
I’ll have to teach you to do the 180-into-parking-spot-backwards-via-emergency-brake maneuver one day.
Two pronged firing squad???
Hee hee. Um, they are people in cars, Sheil.
I know the feeling.
Bren – hahahaha I know. My metaphor makes no sense. Like … firing squads have prongs, Sheila?
But it all worked out – with no deus ex machina!!
The machina was-a you car-a!
Wow, that’s such a specific, parallel parking nightmare. You’re street is unbelievably narrow and seems made for that kind of two cars coming in the opposite direction kind of hell. And there’s only room for one of them after you do park so then there’s this two-pronged showdown as to who’s going to back their car up and relent to the other. Thank God I’m always drunk when I’m on your street and I don’t care about all those side view mirrors I take off on my way home (except yours).
I guess drunk driving humor isn’t all that funny.
David – hahaha Well. I found it funny!!
David- I found it funny too, but that is probably because I am a lush! (Ha ha!!) On that note, when are we finally going to get together, Sheila and David? Preferably with no parallel parking, thank you……