How I Learned to Parallel Park, Despite Axel F.
Last night Craig and I were in paroxysms of laughter until midnight owing in part to a story I told him about how I learned to parallel park to the tune 'Axel F.' from Beverly Hills Cop. I repeat the story here for you. I am, unfortunately, unable to make my blog play the song automatically for you, but you can find a free midi file of it here if you want (scroll down the list and find 'Axel F'). I am not responsible for how long it stays ingrained in your brain afterwards as a result. Here goes:******************************
Late spring, 1984
Mom and I have come to an empty parking lot at the stadium at the University of Victoria to work on my parallel parking skills before my upcoming driver's exam. Nice wide open space, no other cars around - but lots of lines on the pavement marking out parking spaces, so I can pretend that there are cars around and have to work my way into my space without hitting any of them. Near a grassy bank, there are spaces set up perfectly for parallel parking practice: one in front of the other along a long stretch at the edge of the parking lot. Mom tells me to imagine that Car A is in front of the space that I want to be in, Car B is directly behind the space I want, and Car C is behind Car B (for no apparent reason). She gets out of the car and heads up to sit on the grass and watch (see above post for illustration).
I'm 18. Dad's found me a 1972 Pinto as a starter car, so at least I will have something to drive to my summer job at the Butchart Gardens. It's 10 different shades of shit brown, with orange fur on the dash. It's ugly, but it will be mine...once I get my license. For now, I'm using Mom's Ford Escort - standard transmission - to learn on.
I wheel around the parking lot and turn up the radio. The sun is shining on a warm afternoon. I'm in the car alone, driving all by myself. I can almost pretend that I'm out there on the streets myself, so cool, music playing, going where I want to go, when I want to go there. The song ends and a new one begins: 'Axel F.', the theme music from the hottest movie of the year, Beverly Hills Cop.
I pull up alongside Imaginary Car A in the parking lot while Harold Faltermeyer's staccato synth music begins bubbling in my head. I check my rear view and side view mirrors. I'm grooving in the seat. Buh, ba, bu-bu-BAH-buh, bu buh, ba, bu-bu-BAH-buh, bu bu bu BAH bu bu-bu-bo bu-buhhh...
Oh yeah, parking...
I get myself midway up the side of Imaginary Car A, just like it says in the Registry of Motor Vehicles (RMV) Handbook. I crank my wheel over and shove the stick into reverse and start curling back into my space. But I can't get the music out of my head...and I peel back probably a little more abruptly than I should.
I check to see where I am in relation to Imaginary Car B. Looks like plenty of space to me. I start to crank the wheel over in the other direction to straighten out my car, and rev it quickly as I move back. Buh, ba, bu-bu-BAH-buh, bu buh, ba, bu-bu-BAH-buh, bu bu bu BAH bu bu-bu-bo-bu buhhh...my shoulders are moving and my head's bobbing in time to Axel F. The car reacts to my slightest move and it's going exactly where I tell it to.
I put the car into first again. Seems like I have to go a long way forward to line myself up right in my space. The spaces must be longer than I thought, but then again, Mom's car is pretty small. This would probably be harder in Dad's van, but I don't worry about that. I pull the car up, without popping the clutch even a little. I don't see what the big deal is about parallel parking. This is easy -and even fun. Axel F. is still playing when I bring the car to a full stop. I don't turn the car off because I want to keep hearing the song. Buh, ba, bu-bu-BAH-buh, bu buh, ba, bu-bu-BAH-buh, bu bu bu BAH bu bu-bu-bo-bu buhhh...
I get out of the car and look at my parking job. It's perfect. I'm lined up right in the middle of the space, barely six inches from the curb. Straight as an arrow. I smile up at Mom. "Whaddaya think?" I ask, completely cocky.
"Well," she replies calmly, getting up and pointing to the spaces around the car, "Car A has lost its rear end. Car B has no more front end, and you backed into it far enough that it pushed Car C into Car D."
Car D? What Car D? From the look Mom's giving me, the existence or non-existence of Car D is obviously not the point. I can see I'm going to need a lot more time at this. With the radio off.
*************************
Post Script: For the record, I am now a pretty shit-hot parallel parker, music or no music.
posted by Maquinna @ 9:12 a.m.
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