Personal Narrative Essay: The State Of Parallel Parking

Approximately a year ago, I was super excited to get my driver’s license and drive on my own. I had practiced day almost every day with my mother. With butterflies in my stomach, I went to my local DMV office to take the driving test. I gave my name and waited. I felt confident that I would pass as I had practiced many times. I got into my car and so did the instructor. Unfortunately, I did not pass, as I did not park well. I felt unaccomplished.

I took another deep breath and went back around one last time. This time my mom got out of the car to look from the outside. I came around the corner and went through my memorized steps of parallel parking. After I finished my mom came to the window and exclaimed, “That was great! But can we go home now?”

Hours after driving in the region of the Panama City Beach strip, I decided that we should go back home. Since my friend drove the largest part around the strip, he let all the driving to me. It was around 1:30 am. I was heavy-eyed, but not sleepy enough in order to impair my driving skills. My friend was guiding me the way home since I was not as familiar with it as he was, but some how due to the darkness of the night, I passed the street that I was supposed to turn, and it lead us to about 20 minutes off the schedule we had planned.

With thoughts running rampantly through my head, I shouted, "Backtrack on 40, make a left on 55, hop onto 42 and get out at 130". Understanding through her facial expression that my words weren't making sense, I tried again and said, "U-Turn". Obliging to my order, she turned and sped off, fearing that we would be late. In that instance, I finally came to understand how vital of a role I played in getting the family to our destination.

Of course, my first attempted drive a car was so funny. I remember the first time my mom took me, to show me how to drive. She gave me a brief explanation. She told me how to start the car, to use gas, to use break, and then she asks, “ Do you understand?” I replied “Yes.” I told her I am ready to drive. We were quiet for half a minute. Then, she changed me on driver side. I prayed. I started to drive the car. It was good for the past five minutes. I felt like I got confidence. I

I was parking next to the Federal Trade Commission balding in constitution Ave NW street. The sign next to where I parked(see attached picture)shows that "2 hour parking from 9:30AM to 6:30PM, and there was no sign shows that no parking or standing during PM Rush Hour. however, the ticket I got shows violation "no parking/standing PM Rush Hour".

did not want to get out of the car. I just wanted my mom to take me

He noticed two guys (Alex and Richard) were possibly ready to go at it and exchanging words in the parking lot. He got in the middle of them and then said to the both of them it’s not worth your job. He said they were one second from fighting. After getting in the middle and keeping them from fighting, Alan noticed Alex got back in his truck and continued to pull his truck in the parking space. He also said Richard was extremely pissed and very upset that he did not get the parking spot. Alan then proceeds to walk to the gate.

In the summer of 2013, my mother decided that I should take Drivers Ed. I was apprehensive at first because I hadn’t had much experience driving and I wasn’t quite comfortable with it yet. Nonetheless, I went to the classes and all was fine, until we had to drive in Sioux Falls. By that point, I had some experience driving and I was even fairly decent at it. However, I had never driven in Sioux Falls and I was anxious of hitting another car, turning when I wasn’t supposed to, or any number of situations that could go horribly wrong. That day, I dreaded going to Drivers Ed because I was absolutely terrified of driving in Sioux Falls.

The cumbersome white van miraculously pulled into a deceivingly small parking space. The sight was as strange as a tiny clown car parking in between to larger cars. We stumbled out of the bulky vehicle and into the sunny plaza of downtown Watsonville. Waves of tents outlined a large aerial L-shape. Ripe red strawberries, blueberries, and fresh green leaves of vegetables decorated the vendor’s tables. Orchids, mini and large, beamed from the tables with their vivid white, purple, and pink petals. We merged into the foot traffic. A predominantly Latinx crowd strolled throughout the tents and the plaza. Cheerful chatter transpired from all parts of the farmer’s market. We walked past people who sat on the outskirts of the market, enjoying the

It was a frigid February friday, in Raleigh, North Carolina. If I said snow was on the ground, that would be a lie. It snowed two days before and the snow melted and then froze overnight, leading to difficult traverse for inexperienced drivers. Luckily I fit into the experienced section, or so I thought. After having my license for 2 months, I had already come to the conclusion that I was a better and more cognitive driver then half the population of the United States. Considering only 68 percent of the population drives, I might have actually been correct. As I approached my silver 2004 Ford Explorer I realized that one wrong miscue while driving could prove fatal.

I was eagerly awaiting my driver’s test when it finally arrived on December 5. I was enthusiastic yet I felt my sweaty palms clenching the steering wheel as I drove toward pass or fail. The examiner inspected the vehicle, took the passenger seat, and turned her expressionless gaze to me. She quizzed me on common vehicle functions including use of the headlights, turn signals, and mirrors. As expected, she then directed me to drive to the cones for the dreaded parallel parking. I lined my car up the best I could and put it in reverse. As I backed into the spot and began to straighten the car out, I feared I wasn’t close enough to the curb. My stomach tightened as I watch the examiner get out of the car and give a negative shake of her head.

The man outside the car. Beard unshaved, teeth yellow, shirt bright red, hair unbrushed, but all went unnoticed with the shiny piece of metal he was waving at us. Time froze, just at the sight of the gun made my parents freeze, I was a clueless two-year-old. The only worry in the world is when the next time I’ll get a happy meal. But I am not the child in the backseat anymore, I am the mature, teenage girl in the driver seat. I get it, the guy was scared, his actions were him showing fear. But we have nothing to fear but fear itself.

As I ran my left hand across the smooth leather seat, I couldn 't help but try to adjust my highly uncomfortable seatbelt. I would ordinarily protest to put on my seatbelt, which would cause an argument between my mother and I, but I decided that I enjoyed my phone more than I enjoyed not wearing a seatbelt. After lecturing me on the rules of the road, my mother then proceeded to gossip about the daily shenanigans at Head Start as we came to a stop sign at the end of a four way intersection. Since my phone had died, I propped my face up on my hand and stared out the front passenger side window listening to her gossip. I realized that we would be stuck at this light for a while, so I began observing the cars that

Finding a parking spot in Santa Monica Pier was one of the most difficult things ever, especially with all the heavy traffic it made it even more tedious. With the awful driving of my cousin Oscar, it took us around 20 minutes to find a free spot in two huge different lots.