cement posts and mammoth SUV's
I work downtown, and I park in a parking garage. I'm not happy about this fact ... I'd much rather park in a lot with no ramps and tight corners and big cement posts. But I have accepted my parking garage and gotten used to it. I have learned how to manuever into spaces that a car shouldn't fit into, and turn corners that to the naked eye appear un-turnable.So like I do every morning, this morning I confidently rolled into my garage, I waved my pass in front of the sensor, and I cruised in through the open gate. And then I slowed ... for looming in front of me was a humungous SUV. The monstrosity was basically blocking the entrance, so I had no choice but to wait as a line of cars began to form behind me. Finally after much hemming and hawing, the driver backed the vehicle in enough so that there was a small window of opportunity for me to squeeze in to join the multitude of parked cars that awaited my arrival. I seized the moment and began my turn. Apparently this was also the same moment that the driver of the behemoth had a change of heart, for he began to pull out again. Since I was already mid-turn, there wasn't much for me to do except try to cut my turn a bit closer. Obviously a bit too close, a thought which was soon confirmed by a scraping sound and the unpleasant feeling of my car making contact with something. I pulled over and hopped out of the car, fearing what I would find on the other side. My eyes clouded up as I saw the bright white scrapage contrasting with the blue paint of my car. I looked back at the SUV driver, who was looking at me, and for a moment I entertained the notion that there were still considerate people out there. I half-expected him to come over and apologize, or at least acknowledge the presence of me and the fresh white streak running down the side of my car. I was jostled back to a harsh reality when he all but jumped out of his monster and ran out of the garage, effectively avoiding any contact with me.
I slumped back into my car and reminded myself that after all, this is just a car, and things could be worse. My life will probably go on, and I may even be ok. I parked and began my trek to work, and I got to thinking (as I often do). More often than I'd like to admit, I'm much like the SUV driver. I am doing my own thing, oblivious to the way that my choices and actions might affect the people around me. I may give an indication of one thing, and lead someone to believe that I am committed to something, and that they have room to move accordingly ... and then the fickleness in me comes out, I change my plans, and someone gets hurt. This morning, it was the side of my car. In everyday life, it's people. And people's feelings are a little more valuable than the side of a Kia Spectra. And just like the driver, I may experience a brief moment of other person-ness, where I get my eyes off myself enough to look out and realize that my actions may have just caused damage ... but instead of taking action and confessing to the damage, or going even further and trying to fix the damage, I run. I avoid the discomfort of admitting that I did something wrong, and I flee, leaving behind an ugly scrape to remind the other person that I don't care.
I'm just glad I don't drive a colossal SUV. At least with my compact hatchback, there is a little more room between me and the cement posts ... hopefully making it easier for me to avoid causing scrapes and dents in other people's cars (and lives).
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