Driving Mr. McDermott (III. Parallel Parking)

On Monday morning a call roused me from my snoozing. I answered, stood, and hung up as I reached the door of my apartment. Squinting in the bright morning sun, I saw parked below me the green Toyota Tercel—the only car I’ve ever driven. And in the passenger side already, sat my instructor. Approaching the driver’s side, I noticed, in addition to the homemade usually “Student Driver” sign duct-taped to the roof, two large plastic trashcans strapped into the trunk. Opening the door to greet Walter, I immediately inquired about their purpose. As I adjusted my seat—as well as to the sight of the trunk door in my rearview mirror—Walter said, dramatically, “Today … we’ll be doing parking.” A small sense of foreboding came with that significant word: parallel parking, the bane of novice and veteran (though not necessarily good) drivers everywhere. 

Off we drove to the site of our first driving lessons this year, Liberty State Park. Nearly two months ago, I spent wintry afternoons navigating the park before panoramic views of the Jersey and New York City skylines, as well as the Brooklyn waterfront, the choppy harbor waters with orange ferry boats cutting toward Staten Island, and New Jersey’s most iconic resident—the Statue of Liberty. It was a rather auspicious and somewhat distracting location for my first hours of driving. But the traffic is light, the speed limit low, and the parking lots empty. And, considering the many times I had run or biked through its acreage, the park was a safe and familiar area.

I pulled into a wide, open parking lot on the south side of the park—the spiky crown and torch of Lady Liberty visible above the trees, the Verrazano-Narrows bridge floating high in haze, and the luxury waterfront condos of Jersey’s Port Liberte community across the water outside my passenger window. Walter arranged the barrels, placing them about 15 feet apart, then demonstrated driving in reverse from a distance and at an angle—passing easily through the barrels each time. Then it was my turn.  For whatever reason, of all the aspects of driving we’ve covered in our lessons, this I could handle best. Previously, driving in reverse had given me difficulty, especially when maneuvering out of a narrow alley with less than a foot to the car on my right and the earthen wall to my left. In the wide open, however, I managed to put the “ass of the car” (as Walter fondly calls it) through the trashcans. But this was only a skills drill, only vaguely resembling a real-life scenario.

Somehow, when Walter arranged the trash cans near a curb to simulate a parking situation, I completely forgot how to drive backwards. My trouble with the whole turning-the-wheel-in-the opposite-direction-while-driving-in-reverse-to-get-the-car-moving-in-the-correct-direction-thing seemingly reappeared. Yes, I’d overcome this to master the 3-point turn, but now even everything I'd just accomplished minutes before flew out my head, leaving me alone and confused. Okay, it’s not like I was slamming into the barrels and driving up on the curb (or into Walter)—I  just happen to be a tad critical of myself … in all things, but especially driving. Partly, the issue was grasping the geometry of the situation, but I also had trouble turning the wheel completely to the left then completely to the right with my left hand. First, I’m not left-handed, and secondly, I really don’t know how one should grab the steering wheel while doing this. But as Walter emphasized, I can take things slowly, and even go so far as to stop the car mid-park in order to assess the situation and correct the angle of my approach before proceeding. As we watched two other student drivers across the parking lot practice parallel parking, I gained a small sense of confidence—both from the knowledge that I wasn’t the only idiot out here doing this, and that I was managing better than some.

After they drove off, we set up on that side of the lot, where the curb was lower and more like that which would be found on a city street. Past noon now, we could feel that this day would likely be the hottest of the year thus far. Windows down, I focused on my technique, especially on correcting my parking attempts despite initial mistakes in the approach with “slight adjustments.” But with the heat, and a busy day ahead for Walter, we soon ended the lesson and I drove us back to the Heights. As I turned into my street, what should appear magically before my apartment building? None other than a wide parking space—the perfect opportunity to apply my skills to real-life situation. And did I nail it? If by “it” you mean the curb rather than the parking spot, then yes—yes I did. Everything I had practiced for the last two hours—angles, turning the wheel, looking out the rear window, using my mirrors, the gas pedal versus the brake—deserted me on Concord Street. But, after all, I hadn’t yet reached my quota of nearly wrecking the car once per lesson.