The Pick-up Artist 0
I pulled into the parking lot at our DL gathering place behind a ginormous pick-up–you know, one of those pick-ups bought by guys who don’t really need a truck.
The pick-up had fronted into a parking place near the entrance to the little parking lot, then, as I entered the lot, started to back out.
When he saw me, he stopped.
Fortunately.
I went past him and backed into my own parking spot a few places down and continued listening to a podcast until it came time to enter the facility (I prefer to back in; it makes pulling out safer). He then finished backing out of his space, drove a few spaces over in my direction, paused for a moment as if uncertain of what to do, and then tried to back into the space next to me.
I was beginning to question his–er–accuracy when he stopped, looked in his mirrors for a moment, then gave up, and moved on down the lot around the corner and out of my sight.
And I thought to myself, “Buddy, the last place you need to be going is to a bar dining establishment which serves alcohol.”
