OPEN FORUM: Parking

By DELMAR LEATHAM

My idea of parking has changed over the years.

In high school the term “parking” referred to a place you went with your girlfriend. It was also known as Giraffe Hill. An animal with a long neck if you get the connection. Today that location is occupied by a group of snowbirds who spend the winter camping out in their trailers south of town. Perhaps they yearn for their younger days and have returned to a location that holds special memories for them.

Today, the meaning of parking to a high school student has changed. Each senior in high school has a designated spot in the parking lot. Each student decorates his spot in a manner that reflects their personality.

I also have a spot in every parking lot that reflects my current attitude towards parking. It is a blue and white silhouette of a person in a wheel chair. I have been unable to determine if the silhouette represents a man or a woman. Because the spot is reserved for the handicapped it may represent those individuals who are confused about their sexual identity. Perhaps they became confused when they were students who skipped a biology class or two so they could drive around looking for Giraffe Hill. I’m sure they wondered what to do when they found the location so they simply enjoyed the scenic view before returning to the school parking lot.

When I go to the local store, I always try to park in the same spot. It helps to avoid the confusion I have when I leave the store and try to find my car. I always park next to the shopping cart return that is located next to a light pole.

If my spot is taken, I go through the McDonalds drive thru and get a burger and a soda. I then drive back to the store parking lot and enjoy my happy meal while I wait for my spot to open up.

When I go shopping at Costco or Home Depot the rules change. I drive up and down the rows looking for an open spot. Sometimes I follow a fellow shopper as they push their cart toward a favorable spot.

I then sit and wait for them to put their groceries in their car and back out. The three or four cars lined up behind me don’t seem to care and I’m sure they are pleased and thankful that I found a favorable spot to park.

I was recently reminded of just how special a good parking spot can be. During the recent County Fair, my neighborhood was inundated by persons unknown who were looking for a spot to park.

Every year the Fair gets bigger and parking spots become fewer. I’m reminded of the children’s story about the monkeys in a rain storm. They huddled under a leaky roof vowing that when the rain stops they will fix the roof. When the sun comes out the monkeys begin playing and forget all about repairing the leaky roof.

I’m sure someone is making plans to provide more parking spots for next year’s Fair. Maybe an annual trip to Disneyland would provide some guidance on how to deal with too many cars and where to put them.

While driving home from this year’s Fair I noticed my neighbors walking down the street. I stopped to ask if they needed a ride. They said no. They just had a really good parking spot at the Fair and were walking home so they wouldn’t lose that spot. I hoped they remembered where they parked and what car they were driving.

My ten-year-old grandson recently gave me some much-needed advice in how to park. We had all gone to a favorite restaurant for our dinner and I chose to park in a large open area of the parking lot.

When we got out of the car, it became clear that I had straddled three white lines that designated the individual parking spots. My grandson took the pose of someone guiding an air plane to its proper spot next to the terminal ramp. He waved his arms up and down and loudly informed me about the rules for parking a car. I told him that the rules were merely guidelines and I had applied the guidelines in a manner that best suited my driving ability.

My wife has taken over responsibility for driving because my eye sight and reaction times have both diminished. If you see me driving you should park and hide, a lot of men didn’t and a lot of men were scared into letting their wives drive.