50 Days 'Til 50 Day 18--Parking Violations

50 Days'Til 50Day 18Parking Violations"Should we fly to San Francisco or take the car?" I heard my partner yelling to me through the house a few weeks ago. We knew we needed to get out of the desert heat as the temperatures hover around 110 this time of year. It had been several years since we visited the city by the bay and it's one of our favorite cities of all time. My partner, Jeff lived there for many years so it’s always a special place for him to return to. We decided to drive. Why not? It's only 9 hours in the car. 9 hours by the time you stop to stretch, eat, pee, it’s a long day so matter how you slice it. Quite frankly, I don't want to do anything I enjoy for 9 hours, let alone be in the sitting position, staring into nothing-ness, and counting tomato-filled trucks up the I-5 for half a day. Since we both have been busy with work I thought about it and told myself "we can catch up with each other on the ride up, let's take the car."I was probably 14 the first time I sat behind a wheel of a car. We used to have a summerhouse on a lake in New Hampshire that had one slow moving winding road around the circumference of the lake. The maximum speed was probably no more than 25 mph so it was a pretty safe bet things would be ok. I hung out with a crowd much older than I was. Around the campfires and in their cottages almost every evening these guys and girls would invariably get a poker game going. They adopted me into their world and it was a fast education for me in the art of playing poker, skinny-dipping, and beer drinking. I, along with a few of that group worked at the only local restaurant and grocery store. It was grocery on one side and a restaurant, pinball, and pool hall on the other side. My family knew the owner so I had my first job there, each summer slinging burgers and dogs, milkshakes and selling necessity items on the grocery side of the complex. It was a fairly close-knit group and these families had summer homes here for generations so were known and liked by all. I felt very grown up and accepted by them, which at 14 wasn’t something I felt around many of my peers or my family. During days off we would lay in the sun at the lakes edge, water ski, and drive around. It first started with a three-wheeler. They were loud but easy to navigate even for my small unmuscular frame. Later in the summer one of the girls asked me to go with her into town to do some errands. She asked me if Id ever driven a car before. She pulled over and plopped me in the drivers seat. I knew these winding hilly roads like the back of my hand so they were easy for me to navigate. I didn’t do it often but it came very easy to me. One summer evening after my family had gone out to dinner I had the nerve to ask my mom if I could drive us all home. Thanks to a lot of wine they had consumed she said yes. I don't think she realized I had even driven before as she squealed and held the "Oh Shit" handle above the window as I made my way up and down the hills, around the sharp turns and landed us all right into the driveway, perfectly. A friend in high school would later take me around in her old Volvo stick shift teaching me to shift and not stall, parallel park and the basics. By the time I got to my driving test, I breezed right through.My moms bought me my first car, a Subaru wagon, bright orange, and stick shift. It was mine and I loved it. I could exude my freedom now and drive wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Heaven for an 18 year old. The only thing I knew to do was put gas in it. I didn't have any interest or instructors to show me how to maintain a car and all I knew was you put the key in, added gas as needed and drove. I had the old trusty Subaru for about 2 years. This car got me from point A to point B through blizzards, rainstorms, freezing cold, and scorching summer temperatures. One spring while driving to Boston from Portsmouth, NH the car started to buck and seize and smelled horribly electric. I yanked over to the breakdown lane just as the engine stalled out and started to smoke. A tow truck was passing by and pulled over to help. He opened the hood and pronounced my engine was "cracked". He asked me when the last time I put fluids in it. I told him" well, I just filled up the tank." in which he replied "No. I mean oil, water, etc." I learned then and there that you can drive a car for 2 years without putting anything but gas into it before the engine cracks. He gave me a lift home and I never saw "old Suzy" ever again.My next years in Florida consisted of lots of rides from friends, a few bicycles, and my prized vehicle, a moped. South Florida is a great place for a moped, except for the summer rains. Uses barely any gas, you can always find a parking spot, and can even stick a passenger on the back. (Always quite a sight at 5 am riding someone home after the nightclubs closed). It was a fun ride until I came out of work one night and it was gone. Stolen, with just the cut lock lying on the ground. That instant feeling you have when you've been violated is a bit sickening. Adrenaline mixed with anger and the "what do I do nows" make me a bit unsteady for a minute. It never is the right time for it to happen and it's always the aftermath that makes it all very annoying. Over the next years I would have many cars, periods in NYC and Paris with no cars, new cars, and old cars. I've owned Hondas, Fords, Volvos, BMWs, and Saabs. My first completely new, off the lot car was a Saab. It was a very New England car and I was always drawn to its quirky-ness and European flare and sensibility. I was so happy to be driving it home, playing with all the buttons when sitting at a stoplight I glanced up in the rear view mirror to see a car rolling quickly toward me. I knew in that instant he was going to crack into me and he did. Oy! So much for my new car. Luckily it was only minor bumper damage and the violator actually had insurance. It's about a 50/50 split in Florida whether they will have insurance or not. I parked it in my driveway that night sort of laughing off my disappointment about the bumper. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow came as I raced out of the house, late to work (see previous blog on being late) and the car wouldn't start. Ten four letter words later I called the dealer. They came to get it and reported later to me it was a special part that had to be delivered from Sweden and it would take weeks to get. Of course it would I thought. In Florida, after 30 days a car is considered a lemon and can be returned for a full refund. I received the Saab back on the 29th day. I'm convinced things like that happen in life just to test every fiber of my being. Oddly I went on to never have a problem with the Saab during the next three years of the lease. They even put all the fluids in for me. As all car owners have probably experienced at one time or another I would experience many things car related. Spinning off the highway in rain, dead batteries, flat tires, blown out tires, overheating, no air conditioning, and all the usual suspects. As a friend told me years ago "don't sweat the small stuff when it comes to cars...it will happen to us all at one time or another." He was right.This past weekend San Francisco was lovely. Cooler weather, amazing food, and seeing old friends. Even though I went to say my final farewell to a dear friend who passed away last month the weekend was just what the doctor ordered. Sunday we had a day of running around to some shops we don't have in Palm Springs and our last stop of the day was at Nordstrom's. A busy parking lot, outside, with a merry-go-round of cars in and out all the time. We were in the store no more than 30 minutes and came out to a smashed passenger side front window on the car. They whacked it hard as we made out at least four good welts in the glass. The entire interior was covered in almost snow-like flakes of glass. The kind that would give you splinters for months. We just stood here in disbelief. There were people and cars around everywhere and upon a quick scan around the lot I couldn't see any other cars that had received this distinct honor. Once that stomach-turning feeling of adrenaline and violation pass I kick into what my partner calls crisis mode. I have learned many times over the years to just stop, take a moment, and just breathe. Then take the appropriate actions. I'm pretty good in crisis. What I'm not so good at are the small things that happen. The person in the 10-item grocery line who has 20 items. The driver on the road who is oblivious to the fact than anyone else is on the road. Those little things. I’ve been told not to sweat the small stuff. Easier said than done from my experience.At first I was amazed with the amount of traffic and people in the parking lot that no one heard or saw anything but no matter. I called the cops, went into the store to talk to the manager about checking the video camera, and then started calling glass companies. Now, it was 5 pm on a Sunday so I quickly realized that none of these companies are open and even if they were, they would have to order the glass so it wouldn’t be until tomorrow at the earliest. While Jeff was on the phone with the insurance company, I went to social media and phone a few friends to try and find secure parking in the city for the night. Try and find someone with a garage that’s not full in San Francisco. It didn’t fetch any results. We decided to park it with valet at the hotel and begged and hoped that they would keep their eye on it. I think Jeff was secretly hoping it would get stolen so he could buy a new one. He was completely over it at this point. I know that look he has when if I said just one word to try and console him, he would blow.At the end of the day the car windows get fixed. The flat tires get replaced, a new bike comes along to replace the one that got stolen, and it just kind of all works itself out. During these times when I'm not feeling so charitable and loving, I am constantly amazed how complete strangers can act around me. The man that stopped when my car broke down on the highway and offered to help me. The woman I worked with years ago that knew I took two busses and walked a mile to get to work and gave me her old car when she bought a new one. She just gave it to me. The couple this passed weekend that parked next to us and came out to see our smashed window and just happened to have a portable vacuum cleaner in their car and let us borrow it to clean up all the glass inside the car. It’s these people, whom I seem to come across often. These people who are just like Jeff and I. These people who will just stop doing what they are doing in that moment to help or if they cant do anything just to show some compassion. Its these people, who I probably will never see again in my lifetime, that were only in my life for a second or two but can have the biggest impact. It’s these people whom I salute; for they remind me each day that there IS good in this world. That we are all stuffed together on this planet and it only takes a second to crack at a smile to those people you walk by every day, people just like you and me. It only takes a second to extend a hand, and it takes even less time to grab it back.jf