The Spot

Parallel parking is four steps. My son says so. Line up with the car ahead, turn the wheel all the way, back until your mirror reaches their taillight, straighten out. He says it like a recipe.

I've been driving for thirty years. Usually I park three blocks away and walk.

Last spring there was a space in front of the bakery, a car and a half long. It took me eleven minutes. I turned the wheel the wrong way, corrected, stopped, got out to look, got back in.

An older man was sitting in a lawn chair on the sidewalk outside the hardware store next door. When I started, he stood up. When I was about to touch the curb, he held his palm out flat. I stopped. He waved me back with two fingers, slowly, like he'd done it before.

I was in. Nobody said anything. He sat back down.

Now I park there every Saturday, and he's always up before I stop. I've never asked his name.

Last month the chair was gone. I parked three blocks away and walked back past the spot, in case.