“I HATE this bloody car park!”
“You say that every time” my better half calmly retorted.
I was wound up tighter than the cork I had unpopped in that bottle of Beaujolais last night. What had started off as a routine Saturday morning trip was turning out to be another nightmare.
We had set off later than I`d have liked and the illuminated signs at my usual car park told me it was full – how do they know? Does someone sit there counting the cars in and presumably out again? I doubt it but I wasn`t going to take the chance of spending my Saturday morning going around in ever decreasing circles.
So here I was at the car park from hell where half an inch between cars was a bonus. The sole aim of the proprietors seemed to be to squeeze as much metal and rubber into this place as possible regardless of the consequences! And, of course, there was the obligatory four-wheel drive parked breaching the yellow line next to me. I`d have to have the elasticity of Mr Fantastic from the Fantastic Four to even remotely have any chance of getting out of this car.
Reversing out, the car radar was like a hyperactive child with a constant warning tone filling my ears.
“Watch this side” barked my wife.
“I`m too busy watching this four-wheel monstrosity” I shouted. “Besides, the radar will warn …”
Too late, I could here the sound of scraping metal ringing in my ears above the high pitched noise of the radar warning. Having extracted myself from the space they called a parking bay, I got out the car to inspect the damage. Not a mark on his car but mine looked like someone had taken an electric grinder to it! That would cost a pretty penny to put right, I thought.
I got back into the car. My other half had that smug ‘I told you so’ look on her face. Nothing needed to be said. I quietly drove out of that metal graveyard vowing never to return but knowing full well there was every likelihood I`d be back again next Saturday to do battle again.