As I settled into the driver’s seat and fastened my seatbelt, I took a moment to collect myself. With my hands firmly on the steering wheel at 10 and 2, I turned to my friend in the passenger seat, ready to lay it all out. “Listen, my mother, her friend, my partner, and two of his buddies spent hours yesterday attempting to teach me how to parallel park,” I confessed. “It’s just not happening for me. But I vow to never attempt it again after I pass this test.”
Probably not the most reassuring statement for a driving instructor to hear right before a test, but there was no denying my truth. I excel at regular parking—absolutely a pro. But turning my car into a tight parallel spot? A recipe for disaster every time.
In a last-ditch effort to secure my driving license, I surrendered to my driving instructor’s judgment. He nodded, and honestly, I was left wondering what that nod meant. With my anxiety levels rising, I began my driving test. I signaled appropriately, didn’t lurch forward at stop signs, and looked both ways. My three-point turn? Sufficiently executed. Yet as the test wrapped up, I braced myself for failure.
“Back up. Turn your wheel. Straighten out. Stop. Good.” That’s what I think he said, at least. I still can’t recall the actual steps, but I passed and upheld my promise.
Fast forward thirteen years, and I have been a licensed driver with less than five attempts at parallel parking. And I emphasize attempts; I can’t confidently say I’ve succeeded even once. Whenever possible, I dodge parallel parking like the plague.
Once, while en route to a friend’s apartment, he excitedly announced that he had saved a parallel parking spot for me. Upon arrival and seeing him standing in that spot, I simply waved him off and drove a mile to a parking garage. The 20-minute walk was a small price to pay for peace of mind—I’d do it uphill both ways if I had to.
Searching for street parking not only wastes gas but adds to traffic congestion. I’m doing the environment a favor by avoiding it altogether. And whenever I do attempt, I inevitably attract an audience. Why must everyone stop and watch? It’s akin to performance anxiety. I once tried to parallel park outside a restaurant, and after several minutes, the patrons sitting outside broke into applause when I finally exited my poorly parked vehicle. I took a bow—whatever, I earned that round of applause with all my tedious maneuvers.
There’s no shame in my parallel parking struggles. I eagerly await the day when self-driving or flying cars become affordable for the average person. The only requirement? They must parallel park for me. I genuinely care about nothing else. It can have terrible fuel efficiency, and I might feel a twinge of guilt, but not enough to keep parallel parking like a novice.
Just let me live in peace, free from the stress of street parking, so I can maintain a shred of dignity in my driving life.
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Summary
The article discusses the author’s humorous struggles with parallel parking, emphasizing the anxiety and embarrassment that often accompany it. Despite being a competent driver in other respects, parallel parking remains a dreaded challenge. The narrative highlights a shared experience among many drivers while hinting at a future where technology might alleviate such driving woes.