The Last Parking Spot

The AM commute is always full of caffeinated, elbows-out driving here in my lovely city. I sometimes cringe as people jockey for positions in two lanes of essentially free-flowing traffic. I often wonder, “are they going to get the last parking spot?” It doesn’t matter. My 20-year-old car is only capable of so much revelry. There’s no way I can compete with the giant SUVs powered by V24 engines and the bi-turbo hot hatches that zip in barely-there spaces like motorcycles in Thailand. So, I drive in a terribly unsexy fashion at just about the speed limit as people pass me impatiently. And then it happens. Some 2-3 minutes after they’ve raced ahead, I come pottering along and park right beside them. They’re finishing up the morning’s first conference call and searching their bags for heaven only knows.

I’m sure I am missing out. What I’m missing, I don’t know. What I do know is I got in before the last parking spot was taken. But then again, it is never the last parking spot.

Enjoy your day.

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