Tag: Friday night

Lessons from a Parking Lot

It’s going on 6:00 pm. I’ve got a date in a room with a dozen other writers for something called Late Night Write, a specific brand of National Novel Writing Month torture. And I promised them chocolate.

Fred Meyer is only a couple blocks from my house. On the way to the next town over where the librarian who is also the organizer of the write-ins reserved a room at the library after closing hours. I’ll stop by the store, rush into the Christmas candy section, snag a bag of Hershey’s Miniatures (something for everybody in there) and be on my way in a snap.

Or not.

Instead, everyone will choose to drive down the row where I parked. The man next to me will pull out at the same time I stick my vehicle in reverse without so much as a glance behind him. Good thing the guy in the pickup truck was respectfully waiting for me.

The armored vehicle is parked along the curb across from the exit from my row. All traffic is squished into a single line.
Here are the things I learned that night:

  • Trucks pulling trailers should not squeeze by in a single lane
  • There are polite drivers who will let you into the congested stream of unmoving traffic
  • Plenty of drivers are myopic. Watch out for them because they don’t see anyone else
  • The traffic flow from the gas pumps stymies the regular pattern
  • If someone lets you in, you need to pay it forward and let someone in
  • If you let too many someones in, the seemingly-polite driver who showed you favor might morph into a Gremlin who lays on the horn
  • People don’t walk and talk on the cell phone at the same time very effectively if it requires dodging a snaking snarl of slow-moving vehicles

All in all, I’ve determined that unless there is an emergency, I won’t be returning to Fred Meyer or any other grocery store with a gas station in its parking lot on a Friday in the vicinity of 6:00pm.

On a positive note, it gave me something fresh to write about when I got to the room powered by creative energy.

What lessons have you learned from a parking lot?

Does your ideal date include a test drive?

A sunny Friday night spent dining with my husband in one of our family’s favorite restaurants. A prefect date night. Then comes the suggestion: how about test driving a Durango?

Yep. I want the red one.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but when date and drive are used in the same sentence, this is what I think:

  • “Let’s do a date at the drive-in” (I know, I’m old.)
  • “How about a drive up to that scenic viewpoint to end our date?” (And then we park and, you know the rest.)

Test driving a car wasn’t on my radar. Until Friday night. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been married for 26 years. All the other exciting date options have been done to death (*rolls eyes*) so you resort to consorting with car salesmen.

It sounds exponentially more horrifying when you phrase it like that.

Fortunately, our salesman didn’t feel the need to press us forward. Of course, hubby didn’t drive either of the vehicles we might trade in for the new car either. He knows himself very well.

The model in the color I wanted with the options I like was still in transit to the dealership. Darn. I guess there’s no chance of a sale tonight.

Hubby drives the car off the lot. He takes it on the highway and punches it. Pretty fair response for a V-6. I’m enjoying the view from the passenger seat – above all the minions in their sporty or economical cars.

Eventually, I get to drive sedately down the road back to the dealership. The only reason there’s a blind spot is because of the window sticker. I could be a back-up pro with the reverse camera. Acceleration – check. Braking – ditto.

I’m still not sure I want such a big vehicle. I’m happy to whip in and out of tight places with my little RDX. Really, I just wanted to move up in the world to a stellar luxury brand.

Do I really want to be that girl? I’m thinking about it. Still. Okay, no, I don’t want to be all about the brand. “I drive an Audi.” “Oh, well my BMW cost more.” “Ha! My Mercedes trumps you all.” You know the type of person I’m talking about.

No, I don’t want to be that girl. Of course, the major selling point for the Durango is that it will whittle us down to one vehicle per person in the house. Yes, hubby agrees to let the truck go if we get something that can haul a utility trailer.

It’s not every girl that can separate a man from his truck.

What’s the strangest “date” you’ve ever been on? For the record, I have been on stranger ones.