Taking a deep breath, I slid into the driver’s seat and secured my seatbelt. With my hands firmly gripping the steering wheel at the classic 10 and 2 position, I turned to the instructor beside me, fully aware that I was about to confess my biggest weakness. “My mom, her friend, my boyfriend, and two of his buddies spent all day yesterday trying to teach me how to parallel park,” I admitted. “I just can’t seem to get it right. But I promise I’ll never attempt it again once I pass this test.”
Not exactly the kind of declaration a driving instructor hopes to hear. But the truth was undeniable: I excelled at every other aspect of driving, yet parallel parking transformed me into a nervous wreck. Regular parking? I’m a pro. But when it comes to squeezing into a tight space, chaos is my only outcome.
So, with a mix of desperation and hope, I took my driving test, fully aware of my parallel parking shortcomings. The instructor nodded in response to my confession, leaving me puzzled about what that gesture truly meant. Did it signal understanding or resignation?
Fueled by anxiety, I began the test. I signaled when necessary, came to smooth stops, and executed my three-point turn like a seasoned driver. As the test progressed, I braced myself for failure. “Back up. Turn the wheel. Straighten out. Stop. Good,” he instructed. At least, that’s what I think he said. In the end, he passed me, and I kept my promise to abandon parallel parking forever.
Fast forward thirteen years: I’ve had my driver’s license and have probably attempted to parallel park less than five times—successfully? Never. I actively avoid parallel parking like it’s a surprise PTA meeting. Recently, en route to a friend’s apartment, he excitedly told me there was a spot right outside his building, saving it for me. As I neared and saw it was a parallel spot, I waved him off and drove a mile to a parking garage. That 20-minute walk was worth every step.
Searching for street parking is not only a waste of gas but also contributes to road congestion. By steering clear of it, I believe I’m doing my part for the environment. Additionally, when I do attempt to parallel park, it feels like I’m on display, with every passerby watching my struggle. It’s akin to performance anxiety. Once, while trying to park outside a restaurant, I took so long that customers dining outside started clapping once I finally emerged from my vehicle. I took a bow, embracing the absurdity of my predicament.
My inability to parallel park brings no shame. I dream of the day when self-driving and flying cars become accessible, with one non-negotiable feature: the ability to parallel park for me. I’d be okay with it guzzling gas if it meant I never had to face that anxiety again. Just let me navigate the roads in peace, free from the stress of parallel parking, so I can eventually leave this world with a bit of dignity intact.
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Summary
The author shares their ongoing struggle with parallel parking, admitting to being a competent driver in every area except this one. They recount humorous experiences and the anxiety that comes with attempting to park in tight spaces, ultimately dreaming of a future where cars can handle this task autonomously.