As I pulled out of our parking garage today on the way to work, I entered into the typical narrow alley standoff. A car wanted to get into the parking garage and was blocking my path; I couldn't manage a right turn to exit, so I continued to block said vehicle's way in. Dude decided he couldn't take the heat of my intense gaze (?), so he slowly began to back up. He reversed approximately three feet. Now I'm no math whiz, but I'm certain that amount of space had no positive effect on my turn radius or trajectory or whatever terminology math whizzes use in this situation.
So, what did I do?
Did I wait for him to back up more?
Did I honk to gently prod him into backing up more?
Did I honk seven times in quick succession to bully him into backing up more?
No.
I embarked on my exit. As I raised my hand in a hey-thanks-for-backing-up wave to the driver of the other car, my car made sweet love to the corner of the wall I was trying to get by. My right rear wheel well and door are demolished. Not just paint damage, not just a dent. We're talking restructuring of metal. We're talking around $2000 worth of ick. The wall, on the other hand, look like it just returned from a relaxing, tropical vacation.
And, you know, it stinks. It's not the best thing that's ever happened to me, but I'm fine. This is life.
Some days, you're the car and some days you're the wall.
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