People say I’m a terrible parker.
I blame a variety of factors: visibility, high curbs, wind chill, locusts, machete-wielding metermaids, there’s a smudge on the backup camera…
Yes, the car has a backup camera. I don’t really know how to park one without it. It’s brilliant and probably one of my favorite pieces of technology, up there with the iPad fleshlight which allegedly is available for pre-orders (not like I’d know).
eyy…the bike was askin for it…
What’s frustrating is that it only beeps front and back, not on the sides…
Yes, the car beeps when you’re too close. I believe it’s required on all cars now due to the Americans Against Disabilities Act (or is it “For”?) It’s like sonar (son-car?) and gets really pissed when you’re really close, like a cat or that prudish little sister of yours, it’s just a sports massage, geez. After using it for a couple years I know how to fudge those last few inches, which sounds really dirty but it’s totally natural, trust me.
But goddamn it. Due to some unscrupulous curbs approximately 37 feet tall [citation needed] my car has some scratched-ass wheels on the curb side. If this was the UK it would be on the other side, but this isn’t and my teeth have never looked better.
Apparently Lexus makes a car that parallel parks itself, but then you still have to drive a Lexus which means you qualify for Social Security and you really can’t stand this wild new music the young people listen to, what’s that upstart new instrumentalist’s name? That’s right, Kenny G. “G” probably stands for GangMember!
My friend taught me how to parallel park and I’m a total boss at it now, with or without cameras, sensors, utensils, and air traffic control. Yes my friend, that one. The girl. The Asian girl. Yes, an Asian female taught me how to carefully maneuver a motor vehicle. You’re all just racists, like a bunch of Krauts!
I always thought LA was the land of cars and parking lots that stretched from sea to shining sea (Malibu to Palos Verdes), and I’m super disappointed that it’s like parking in New York (if cars are even really legal there anymore, pretty sure all they’ve got are horses and carriages).
The best thing is when you open the passenger side door and it scrapes the curb (because you have to let the bitch out, her hour is up), and you (ok, she) flails around helplessly trying to push it back towards the car without further scraping the curb, and then there just has to be this huge push and this awful scrape, like the sound of a 747 bellyflopping on tarmac, yet it’s oddly satisfying like you just picked a scab or something because it’s already scraped and next time you do it you’re not afraid of scraping it and you’re FREE from your passenger-door-side scraping shackles, which are probably not legal under the Geneva Convention.
All this having been said, I’ve never met an untrustworthy valet, but I still don’t trust them and they adjust the seats to “Verne Troyer” and I hate how you have to valet park every 27 feet (pretty sure you have to valet to valet park now), like it’s not my fault this office of 80 people has three-and-a-half tandem parking spots in total, and I’m totally parking-gifted now so I’ve got this guys, and as the valets panic and run to stop me I nearly back into a Lexus but I don’t because I’ve got sonar, a backup camera, and pure SKILL.