Last evening on my way to dinner with friends Bob and the Old Professor, I stopped at the ATM to get some cash. The ATM is located on the side of the bank next to the driveway, and there’s a parking lot on the other side of the drive. This being Friday, and with a hurricane spooling up in the Atlantic, there was a line of about four or five people waiting to use the machine, but I had no trouble finding a place to park.
As I waited in line, a large Chevy Suburban pulled up to the curb and parked in the driveway. A woman got out and got in line, leaving the behemoth in the driveway in spite of the large NO PARKING sign right next to it. I gave her an “are you kidding me?” glare, but she radiated, “I live in Pinecrest and I drive an S.U.V. So there.” Everyone else in line gave her the same glare, but no one said anything.
I got my money and walked back to my station wagon. On the way to the parking lot, however, I lost my balance for a moment as I passed by the Suburban and bumped the passenger-side rearview mirror out of alignment, folding it in against the side of the truck. Oy, I am such a klutz.