I am terrible at parking. I look a long time for a space where I can be off by my lone-car self and where I do not have to impinge on the space of another person's vehicle. I often (always) have to back up and re-park several (many) times to get even reasonably within the lines of the parking space. It can be (is) embarrassing. Ironically, I am better at parallel parking than I am at diagonal parking. I blame it on the car.
Gary Hannah was my driving instructor in 1966 (right?). He taught us to gauge how far away from the line on the highway we were based on the hood ornament. I almost hit a couple bikers in the 80's when hoods became shorter and that was not a reliable measure. I'm not blaming Gary who is my mom's neighbor and takes good care of her driveway. I blame myself. I'm a terrible parker and probably not a very good driver.
Yesterday, my neighbor Mike was cleaning out his garage and he stacked a bunch of plywood and insulation on the boulevard. Getting into the spirit, I hauled a ratty looking lawn chair to the curb. We love how people slow down, come around the block, and stash your old shit in their trunks. I don't care how much you make on a garage sale, it ain't even close to the entertainment value of putting stuff on your curb.
We realized last night that Mike's shit was getting way more attention from the passers-by than our lawn chair so we hauled the chair across the street and added it to Mike's pile. By this morning, the lawn chair was gone. Great marketing, right? By this afternoon, all of Mike's crap was gone, thanks to neighborhood hoarders who can't let free stuff go to waste.
Next time, we promised to make the initial pile and Mike gets to add to it. I wish we had gotten pictures of the whole shebang which was a damn hoot.
We had a wonderful afternoon sitting on the patio with a glass of wine, a neighbor or two stopping by, and the early spring sun. Here's to global warming. (Don't use this in your science report, junior high kid.)