crooked

I had to back the car out of the garage this morning after My Darling B parked it last night. Took me a minute to figure out how to do it. It was just about sideways to the door. Okay, not exactly sideways, but it beats me how she got it in there at the crazy angle it was parked. To back out without knocking off the rear view mirror on the passenger side, I had to swing the nose around so far that I was backing toward the neighbor’s yard instead of down the driveway. I stopped with the tail end of the car sticking out of the garage, cranked the nose around the other way, and pulled in again, trying to buy a little space between the car and the wall of the garage. Then I backed out toward the neighbor’s again, and again cranked it back into the garage. That gave me enough room to straighten it up and back out.

B said she was sorry when she got in. She couldn’t explain how she did that any more than I could.

Funnily enough, B normally parks so far away from the opposite wall of the garage that I can just barely crack open the driver-side door. I have to suck in my gut to squeeze in. And to be completely fair, our garage is a challenge to park in. It’s just barely wide enough to park our car and still have enough room to get out of the driver’s side door. B has to get out before I pull the car in because it’s not possible to leave enough room for both the passenger and the drive to get out after it’s parked. Seems really weird, because the house was built in 1950. Ever seen a typical 1950s car? Huge whale-back thing? There’s no way you could park one of those in our garage unless maybe you climbed out the driver’s window.

She took the car to yoga tonight. She may have to back it out in the morning.