Parallel parking

I remember my dad teaching me to parallel park. The way it goes in my memory is that during one driving lesson when I was 15, he just announced that we were going to cover parallel parking so that I wasn’t one of those girls who can never do it. (He may not have actually said that, but that’s how it goes in my memory.)

I guess I took that very seriously. I have never liked anyone suggesting that I fit into the stereotype of the “female driver.” But I have taken special pride in parallel parking. I’m pretty good at it. It helps that I’m driving the same car I’ve been driving for 11 years, so I have a really stellar feel for the dimensions of the thing.

This is my parallel parking job from when I got home this evening. And yes, the spot I was parking in was a pretty good size. And honestly, this is slightly closer to the curb than I would usually shoot for. But still. This is one shot, on the first try.

Thanks, Dad!

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4 Comments

Filed under Awesome, Being a girl, cars, Family, Memoir, Sentiment

4 responses to “Parallel parking

  1. Dad

    That was exactly how it was! And I must say you have become one testament to my skills as a parallel parking instructor. You couldn’t have been closer if they waited for you to park and then poured the curb next to the car! My heart soars like an eagle.
    And how is that clutch-starting-from-a-stop sign thing going?
    Love,
    Dad

    • Good! I would hate to have misquoted you.

      Starting from a stop sign is going well, as is working the clutch in general. And I want you to know that I have never again stalled right in front of the Cute Older Boy from up the street.

  2. That is all sorts of amazing.
    I’m jealous

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