The Husband has a thing about the end of the line when it comes to parking the car. He prefers the end space. Doesn’t matter which end of the row it is, it just has to be the end. As long as there is no other car on one side, he wants that space.
I don’t get it. Men are usually the practical one of the species when it comes to shopping. They go to the store, park, go in, get what they need, pay and get out expeditiously. Going around and around a parking lot looking for the “just right” space like he’s on some kind of crack-fueled carnival ride with bad brakes goes against everything the human male is supposed to do at the store. It’s supposed to be a very straightforward act, not some kind of contest to fit a sedan into a spot meant for a Schwinn©.
I’ve been the hapless victim of an end space gone bad. We’ve wound up parked so close to a curb, I’ve had to assume the crawl-out position, or crawl-up position (as in, crawl up a grass berm, only to have to use
Always looking for the sweet spot.
the same berm to crawl up and slide back down into the car later on).
I know the purpose of the end space game: it’s to ensure that at least one side of the car receives no damage from a careless driver/passenger in the next spot. But it comes at the price of wasted gas and time (looking for the space) and the loss of some brain cells (looking for the perfect space). So I’m asking my followers. When it comes to parking your beloved Buick or pampered Porsche, what do you prefer:
Notes for My Next Life 