#4: The Waiting
Updated: Aug 22
Originally posted on Rennlist.
Among the first world problems I have, parking spots are right up there on the list of the most low key irritating ones.
I live in a city that eats cars. The road and its abscesses want a nibble all the time, the drivers can't be bothered to pay attention, the weather laughs and tosses everything down, the birds have constant indigestion, the people park with indifference and disdain, the youth throw their McDonalds shakes with a skill and accuracy that I kind of admire, and the rust never ever sleeps here in the Rust Belt. Ever.
Which leads me to why I don't park on the street. I have no driveway. I have a 1940s one car garage seperated from my house which was built around 1900.
I love the garage. I spend lots of time in there working on cars. But it barely fits my car and tools and Quick Jack. So I rent a spot for the GT3. At the Public Storage. It is about 2 1/2 miles from my house as the crow flies. It is ok at best.
Dudes sling their stuff in the units with what seems like reckless abandon. I have found handfuls of drywall screws, nails, staples, shivs, rivets. Every time I go there I do a sweep or two. Landscapers, junk haulers and handymen sweep out the beds of their pick ups into the common area of the facility. Boggles my mind.
Which leads me to the topic at hand: waiting for someone in my neighborhood to break down and rent their garage to me. As Ian Mackaye from Fugazi sang in Waiting Room:"I am a patient boy, I wait I wait I wait I wait..."
Or as Tom Petty summed it all up so perfectly in The Waiting:"The waaaaaaaiiiiting is the hardest part."
It is my issue. I expect no sympathy. I just want another parking spot. Seriously.