"If you can't drive that stupid SUV - why the heck did you buy it?!"
"Lady, if you can't see over the steering wheel, you have no business being in that driver's seat!"
These are among the more pleasant comments I've made about women who can't driver their SUVs - don't know why I never focused on the men who can't drive their SUVs but that's a topic for another post. I live in the city where parking is scarce and tight...and if you can't parallel park - forget it, you need to leave. I have had many occasions for extreme laughter watching some idiot in their huge vehicle completely perpendicular to the sidewalk while trying to parallel park in a spot that will only fit half their land barge.
I am definitely not that bad with my parallel parking but I have to shamefully turn that finger back around and include myself in the league of women who own SUVs and can't drive them. My excuse...what else? Kids. My husband and I don't buy vehicles very often; in fact this mid-sized SUV (a Toyota Highlander to be precise) was procured just this past October. The vehicle it replaced was a 1998 Camry. We obviously plan to own this car for at least the next 10 years. Years where our two boys will be starting school, participating in sports; we foresaw hauling a great deal of sh*t. We also pack up the family car at least twice a year and drive 15 hours up to Montreal to visit the family - the last trip up the car was LOADED. So we have a need but I think (I wish) we could have gotten by without the SUV. The Camry was too big for me. Until I met my husband I drove small two-door cars. In fact I was eyeing the Mini Cooper when we decided to get pregnant and if it weren't for kids I'd be eyeing that Smartcar right now too (totally me).
Back to our land barge. We've owned the stupid thing almost a year and I continue to be the woman who's back tire is up on the curb while parking (shameful), takes 4 or 5 attempts to parallel park (although NEVER perpendicular to the sidewalk), I have yet to clip the side view mirror with anything but that's only because I so painfully have no feel for the width of our car that I'm the jackass driving down the middle of the street or dramatically pulling over to let other cars pass. Today I had the rare opportunity to drive to the grocery store instead of walk. I parked so close to the wall I couldn't open the door to get the baby out of his car seat and had to get back in and move the car to a different spot just to get him. When I was finished shopping and backing out to leave I scraped the back driver's side quarter panel along the concrete column.
OH I was freaking out. My husband keeps a scratch repair kit in the glove box, I got it out and stood with a tiny tube of gel in my hands gawking at the 2 feet of scratches and paint on the car. I got to work! That stuff's great, all that was left were a few remaining very deep scratches. Most of the scratches that had me freaking out turned out to be paint from the concrete column. Still..I had to go home and admit what I'd done. Something that wasn't going to be easy as the only reason I have the car today is because my husband is home from working waiting on roofers to come by and give estimates on what it will cost to replace or leaking roof. This wasn't going to be easy because we just two weeks ago got the car back from the repair shop. A giant storm swept through the city and dropped this tree on our car:
So, the car with the brand new bumper to bumper paint job just two weeks later has deep scratches and DAMN IT I WAS THE ONE WHO DID IT! Why oh why couldn't he have been the one?!
I got home. Admitted the mistake, a small volcanic eruption of expletives spewed forth and then...he was fine. Fine? I was braced for a tidal wave. I think he was disarmed by the fact that I didn't even remotely try to argue or defend myself. What could I say or do? I did it.
So, this once prideful "good driver" - and believe me I was!!! No, I am damn it all! Just not in an SUV... is resigned to being the woman making a total ass of herself by always having to open the door to use the drive-up ATM, the one who nips the curb with the back tire when turning, who always misjudges her car's size and will embarrassingly have to re-park the thing for the next ten years.
TEN YEARS?! NO!
Please someone save me and send over that cute little smart car! The silver convertible will do just fine!