That’s foreigners, like people. Not Foreigner the band. I don’t like them so much.
After class tonight I met Molly at Titaya’s Thai restaurant for dinner. Food was great, conversation was better (ask Molly about my guess for her faux pas). We leave, I walk out and hey! I can’t get into my car! Because there is a U-Haul parked all slanty so that not only can I not get in, even if I could I would probably crunch my bumper trying to exit the spot. In fact, here’s a fairly accurate representation of this, an aerial view:
See how I’m parked all nice and straight and the U-Haul is encroaching upon my personal space? And I forgot to draw it in but there’s another car parked on the other side of me. This is a good restaurant, people are parked there. Right, anyway. So Molly and I go back inside and we ask our waitress to find out who’s driving that monstrosity. A guy walks up looking all confuzzled. I’m like, “Hi! I want to leave and stuff and I can’t get into my car. Please move your big truck and don’t hit my car while you do it.”
He gets into the truck and starts backing up, turning the wheel. I wince and say “Stop!” He looks at me, blankly. I walk to his window and tell him “You’re going to hit my car. Please don’t do that.” He starts moving again. It’s so bad. I start telling him to please for the love of god please stop turning like that or I won’t have a bumper. He says to me then, in a thick German accent, “I hear what you are telling me but I don’t know what you are telling me. I am not familiar with driving this vehicle.” Great. So he starts backing up again, stops, and then asks me “Is the room for clearance sufficient?” I’m trying really hard not to laugh at this point. So I say “Kind of?” He nods very seriously and moves again. And then he keeps asking me if the clearance is sufficient. Like 10 different times. He finally gets back enough so I hop in my car, ready to move at lightning speed, just please let me move my damn car. Molly was patiently waiting for me to go and smoke a quick cigarette with her but I didn’t want my car NEAR this man or his truck. What if he started to reposition himself in the parking spot, he’d probably block me in again and I’d have to start over. But from inside of my car. And then it would be up to Molly to tell him where to go and, while I trust her to be able to direct a car, I don’t trust her to not laugh in the man’s face while she’s doing it.
The point is, this is why I think U-Hauls are dangerous and they make me nervous on the highway. Because some inexperienced little berk is driving a fairly large vehicle when the biggest thing he’s driven until that point is a Honda. Or a Miata (burn to the ex, Molly!)