Parking Woes

Mrs. Myrtle has a thing about having to parallel park on Main Street. She remembers when the city planners first started talking about going to parallel marking to make more room for traffic. That must have been at least thirty or more years ago now. Mrs. Myrtle didn’t like it then, and she doesn’t like it now. She’s been known to make the block as many times as it takes until enough spots open up for her to park easily. Sometimes, of course, it’s not possible and she has to bite her lip and go for it. The other day as Buford was leaving the bank, he saw Mrs. Myrtle having a heck of a time in the parallel parking space at the front door. Being the good southern boy that he is, Buford’s big old heart went out to her. He couldn’t help but think of his own dear Grandma, God rest her soul. Buford slipped up to Mrs. Myrtle’s side window and knocked on it gently, trying his best not to startle her. She still jumped. Then she recognized him, smiled, and rolled her window down.

“Why, hello Buford.”
“Hey Mrs. Myrtle,” Buford said. “If you’ll watch my hand signals I think I can help you out here.”
“Bless you,” Mrs. Myrtle said.

Buford walked to the back of her car and began motioning, first this way, then the other, more this way, more that way. Finally, after a good twenty minutes, Mrs. Myrtle’s car was nestled safely between the other two. He walked back up to her window with a huge smile on his face.

“There now, he said. “You’re in great shape.”
“Not really, Buford,” Mrs. Myrtle said, dryly. “I was trying to get out!”

~Shellie