What Was I Thinking?

We went out to eat the other night at Los Tulipanes, our restaurant-of-choice in Sioux Center.  The strip-mall setting has parking spaces perpendicular to the front sidewalk where cars pull into their spots with headlights and hoods facing the restaurant head-on, as if waiting for the hostess to seat them and the waiters to poor food in their engines.  The less-fortunate cars park in the aisles of the attached parking lot. 

I drive down a lane of the half-full parking lot. Tail-lights appear in the coveted front row.  I drive slowly looking for an angled spot for my car.  There are no spots in my lane, but the tail-lights straight ahead are still shining brightly.  Are they coming or going?  The reverse lights come on.  They’re leaving!  Something within kicks in.

I’m now near the front of the parking lot and the coast is clear for this one-and-only, front-row spot.  But the reverse lights don't move.  They just sit there.  I wait patiently until a warning signal goes off in my peripheral vision.  Headlights approaching.  Oh-oh.  Competition.  Hah!  The car in my spot is finally backing up.  I gauge the distance between the competitor and my spot and I instinctively inch forward.  I saw the spot first.  I did.

The vacating car moves slower than . . . slower than honey in an ice-fishing hut.  (What can I say, it's still winter here.)   I continue inching forward.  The competition gets closer.  The slow car is half-way out of the spot.  They stop.  What is the problem?  There’s plenty of room!  Who is that driver anyway, someone with a learner’s permit? 

By now the cars’ positions are awkward and the other driver seems frozen in their (tire) tracks.  From my perspective, there is ample room to exit the spot.  I see what is happening and I (not-so-gently) put my car in reverse and back up a few feet to provide more room for the timid driver to clear my spot.  By now I’ve stopped eyeing the competition in my mirror.  At least there are no horns honking.  I pull into my front-row spot. 

I . . . gingerly . . . pull into my front-row spot and pause before removing the keys from the ignition.  What did I just do?  What was I thinking?  What triggered my instant obsession with this front-row parking spot?  . . . as if I (or my car) hadn’t eaten in days. 

I fight for a parking spot to eat in a restaurant. 

 

I . fight . for . a . parking . spot . to . eat . in . a . restaurant.

In a little over four months, we’ll be starting Sea to Sea, a nine-week cross-country bike ride to raise awareness and money to end the cycle of poverty at home and around the world. 

I have much to learn.  So much. 

 

Welcome to my journey.

 

 

(Find out more about Sea to Sea by clicking the tabs at the top of this page.)