I live in urbania. Renton, Washington. I’m like 12 to 13 miles from downtown Seattle, depending on the route I take. Since Seattle is the center of our Puget Sound megalopolis, work often takes me to the city.
Albeit many of you live in more populous areas than I, regardless, I’m having my own little private Seattle moment about parking and related things this morning...
Okay... It’s a little bit of a rant.
I drive a 2007 Ford Explorer. I love this truck. It’s the best vehicle I’ve ever owned. It’s not too big, gets okay gas mileage, it’s in great shape, not too many miles (under 100k) and this one’s paid for!
Of all the miles I drive around the area and across this beautiful State of Washington, accept for 2, the only dings and minor scuffs it has are all from parking garages in the city.
Around these parts I’m not the only one that has a similar sized truck or SUV. In fact, many are larger. It’s a Northwest thing I guess. Like an urbanites mythical connection to the great outdoors and the wilderness from whence we came and conquered.
I didn’t buy one because I watch a lot of emotionally branded masculine lifestyle commercials. Nor do I need a tribal bond with the rugged suburban outdoorsy types who hoist and haul and dump huge loads of stuff by the ton.
Mine is an Eddie Bauer model, 'the gentleman’s truck'. :O) It’s the perfect size for car pooling with coworkers, clients and family, and I need easy accessible room for my briefcase, laptop, projector, tripods, a portable projection screen and a few boxes of printed handouts and odds and ends like powerstrips etc... Always prepared!
Anyway, I’m 5’ 4” and my Napoleon complex has been in remission for many years. I just like sitting up higher where I can see better. I can’t tell you how many times that saved my bacon driving the freeways around here on a rainy day. But I digress.
I have a theory... The newer the building, the smaller the parking spaces. I’ve lost count of the times I pulled into a parking garage and the only 2 or 3 stalls left are so small and situated I can’t navigate my way in. Or, if I can, there’s no room to open the driver door and with high back bucket seats (and not being in my 20’s anymore) there’s no option to crawl through to the back and exit via the tailgate. I tried. It ain’t possible.
So, time is allotted for prowling in hopes that someone will soon leave one of the very few unreserved larger stalls. Fortunately and most of the time I make out just fine. I have a special connection. Whenever I enter a parking garage I immediately start talking to the Parking Angel. I learned that one years ago from my Auntie Marjorie.
Meanwhile, I do contemplate a 2nd smaller car and the possibleness of an angel for dings.
Originally posted on the Activerain Real Estate Network. Urbanian Ramble
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