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Roger Rabbits with |
“Gotta reverse at some point. Might as well do it now. Get it out of the way.”
His years had made him wise. A brief supermarket carpark encounter over the merits, or otherwise, of reverse parking. Heady stuff?
We agreed reverse parking is one of the great societal shifts of our time. Never used to do it, never needed to do it, so why have we started?
“It’s like people who text photos of their Sunday breakfast out,” offered the wise one. “‘Here’s my smashed avo toast’ – as if we give a toss!” But is it? Is reverse parking really like smashed avo?
It’s probably scraped and scratched a few panels. But smashed?
“Well, it’s certainly newish behaviour that amuses, bemuses and peeves in equal doses,” suggested the sage. “Like the radical far right and lunatic left in the US – we’re polarised.” That’s another big shift – from reverse parking, to smashed avos, to US politics in just a jiffy.
This all started when a bloke the proportions of Mr Creosote from Monty Python – excuse the fat shaming, but it’s relevant – tried to squeeze his shopping trolley between his and my cars to get to the boot to unload his shopping. It was always going to be a problem because he had backed in. So his boot was landlocked. Or in this case car-locked.
Huff, squirm, squeeze
Instead of making a couple of trips from the trolley at the front of the car to the boot, he was stubbornly manoeuvring the trolley between the cars. Dick!
“Probably didn’t think that through,” I said, trying to make light of it. “I prefer doing it this way,” he huffed and squirmed and squeezed. “And if people didn’t park so close…!” What? Suddenly his problem is my problem. Lovely.
“And it’s safer backing in, so you have clear vision all ways, every way, when you pull out.” Is that right? Even if there’s inconvenience to all and sundry while they wait for you do a three-point reverse into the park. “Not if you are a good driver,” he sneered.
I’m a Crap Driver (CD) so prefer to indicate and drive forwards into a park. But being a CD, I sometimes take a couple of attempts to line up centrally – only to save my door panels from another ding. It’s not the adults, it’s the kids who throw open car doors willy nilly. Then it’s just a slow, careful reverse exit so you aren’t driving into passing cars and over-passing people. More often than not, passing drivers will discover some courtesy and stop for you.
All banged up
Another old codger is within earshot and offers his ‘two penneth’ worth. He’s suffered a “crunch, ouch” experience with reverse parking. And he wasn’t even in a car. He hoists his trouser leg and he’s mummified, swathed in bandages. He walked straight into the towbar of a ute, which was backed up over the footpath. He filleted the upper tibia and knee. Blood, bad language and stitches. “Banged up by a parked car. Lovely!”
Then a giggle because just across the way, it looks like a couple of utes had been procreating and given birth to triplets. Five utes, side-by-side, all neatly reversed parked. “I suppose when you spend $50K or $60K or $70K on a vehicle, you want the full show-off factor,” said the old wise one. “And you don’t get that driving forwards into a park and flashing only the rear bumper and tow bar to the world.” Seems that breed of motorist finds it easier and safer to park that way. And some companies demand their employees park their vehicles that way. Safety? Insurance? Cost? Either way, it still involves a backing manoeuvre.
‘Bagzed’
Then right outside the supermarket there’s Mrs Inya Face – all staunch and po-faced, arms akimbo, standing in the middle of a vacant parking space that she has obviously ‘bagzed’. And she’s daring anyone to try take it off her. They will have to drive right over her.
Mr Face is off retrieving the 1996 neutral-coloured, eminently forgettable, four-door, family sedan so they can park closer to the front door. Walking is out! Meantime, a small queue of cars has formed and the lead car is arguing Mrs Face’s arbitrary claim on the park. “You can’t do that!” “Yes I can. And I am!”
When Mr Face arrives, he chooses to reverse park. Here we go again. Not the time or place. Mrs Face now steps into the stream of traffic for some point duty – up goes her hand bringing everyone to a halt while Mr Face wrestles to perform a trendy, laborious, three-point reverse parking manoeuvre. And the world waits.
On the other hand, if you’re feeling a bit dusty after the excesses of Friday night and want to shake it off, try the supermarket carpark Saturday afternoon.
Great sport. Real live theatre. People at their worst. It’s guaranteed to kick-start the metabolism, give you wings, and make you wish you could fly off somewhere else, anywhere else, and start a new life without supermarket carparks and reverse parkers.