Parking Lots

Some people worry about getting in a wreck on the open road; I worry about parking lots. Every wreck I have ever had or witnessed has been in a parking lot.

Let's begin when I was in my teens. I bunch of us went to Stone Mountain. The most macho guy was driving his reinovated GTO, which would go 120 miles an hour--but that's another story. We were talking and there was some problem right in front of us, turning into the parking lot. The problem took awhile to fix, so Phillip put the car in Revers backed up a little so other cars could pass in front of us. All of us continued to talk. Finally, the people infront of us started to move. Phillip stepped on the accelerator and crashed right into the car in back of us. He got out. The people behind us were a little irritated, but they calmed down. Phillip got back in the car. Stepped on the gas and smashed into them again. By that time, we were all laughing so hard, we couldn't breath. The people behind us were not laughing.

The first wreck I ever had was driving in Atlanta--not on 285 like everyone else, but in a gas station parking lot. I misjudged how far I was from the pump and pulled up on the cement marker infront of the pump. It took three men to dislodge me from the marker.

The next parking lot wreck happened at my own home. A friend of mine came all the way down from New York to visit me. He had a rental car and parked it in the shade behind my car. That was my back up space. I plowed into that car with all the power Phillip had plowed into the car at Stone Mountain and like he did, I pulled up apologized profusely and then did it again. To this day, the insurance company thinks David was in a life threatening wreck.

So, what's the morale of this story. If you see me on the freeway, your safe, but beware of the parking lots.