June 29, 2023—
Parking’s at a premium on our street, and a newcomer situates her SUV in the middle of two spaces in front of our house. Our downstairs neighbor, a teacher in her 20s, saw the woman out, also in her 20s, and said something like, “Hey! No big deal, but two cars usually park there.”
The SUV now parks in the center on purpose. Which is No Big Deal in the Grand Scheme, but—ugh. There’s five feet on either side of her, and the rest of Merriman Street’s a Spartan phalanx parked bumper to bumper. I think another neighbor owns a small fleet of taxis.
I can hear the newcomer’s dad (or boyfriend?) saying, “Leave space on each side. Don’t let those as*holes chip your paint.” Another woman, maybe the boyfriend’s sister, used to park her pink, 90s Wrangler with the monster tires in the center, too.
So, our house works together to nab one of the spots, to save the other.
This is incredibly juvenile to note, but interesting—a guy knocked on their door yesterday (I peeked out because lost food delivery folks) and, TDLR, he had the hospital bill from when the couple hit him on his bike, and when the boyfriend, in addition, had given him the business.
I intuit that the woman went inside “to call someone,” and never came back. In her defense, the guy looked 22 at 220 lb. But RPD arrived, and two witnesses in khaki casual walked over from the apartment complex, and the bad parker reemerged to face some kind of music.
I’m the good parker, nosey neighbor.
Smoke from Canadian wildfires making us close our windows (Rochester averages a high of only 77° in June), and cranking our friend’s Whispure Pro 2000 air purifier. Still, stuffy.