Getting one’s social ingredient from a subterranean garage while tricycling in circles is not normally identified as the seat of philosophic discovery.  Today however while conducting my morning expiation of guilt, I had several encounters with people who were parking their automobile.

First, a gentleman who skilfully parked his new Ford Explorer in one move. In case you don’t know, a Ford Explorer is a big SUV – 5 doors and 7 passengers. He modestly dismissed his accomplishment by recalling his prior experience driving transports. Nonetheless it was admirable.  Turns out that he is related to a woman who has connections to the dealer principal at Lincoln Heights Ford where I conducted business for many years.

Second, a woman who related her unfortunate encounter earlier today with another resident. The other woman insisted upon walking her dogs in the yard immediately adjoining the first woman’s unit. When the first woman attempted a civilized recommendation to leash the dogs and encourage them to relieve themselves elsewhere, the second woman became hostile and lapsed into the vernacular.  The first woman – almost in tears – resorted to communicating with the property manager.  I assured the first woman that, based upon my knowledge and experience, the property manager is fully capable to handle the matter.

Third, a woman whom I have seen on many prior occasions because she is frequently headed to a sporting or yoga congregation. She is uncommonly svelte; and she also paddles kayaks. We exchanged the customary pleasantries before laughing about the petty economies one observes by refusing, when necessary, to buy a new grocery bag at the store.

Finally, there was the chap whom I call the Mustang guy because he owns a relic Mustang convertible which I understand is now stored for the winter at his daughter’s place. He and I exchanged intelligence concerning automobiles in general.  I am discovering there are many who amuse themselves talking about automobiles.

Before I conclude, there was one other encounter with a chap who recently moved into the building and whom I recognized from the golf club. It just so happens that his name is identical to that of a lawyer friend of us both. We didn’t swap information but the encounter was nonetheless important because the chap appeared to be getting well settled  His wife recently died.

Soon I shall indulge myself in my own vehicular interest of currency. Midday is usually when I begin to urge myself to horse. Once fortified by steel cut oats and two “over easy” fried eggs, I am prepared to greet the world.

HAL

Getting one’s social ingredient from a subterranean garage while tricycling in circles is not normally identified as the seat of philosophic discovery. Today, however, while conducting my morning expiation of guilt, I had several encounters with people parking their automobiles.

First there was a gentleman who skilfully parked his new Ford Explorer in one smooth move. In case you don’t know, a Ford Explorer is a large SUV—five doors and room for seven passengers. He modestly dismissed the accomplishment by recalling his former experience driving transports, but it was nonetheless admirable. As it happened, he is related to a woman who has connections to the dealer principal at Lincoln Heights Ford, where I conducted business for many years.

Second came a woman who recounted an unfortunate encounter earlier that morning with another resident. The other woman had insisted on walking her dogs in the small yard adjoining the first woman’s unit. When the first woman attempted a civilized suggestion—that the dogs be leashed and encouraged to relieve themselves elsewhere—the second woman became hostile and lapsed into the vernacular. The first woman, almost in tears, resorted to contacting the property manager. I assured her that, based on my knowledge and experience, the property manager is fully capable of handling the matter.

Third was a woman I have seen on many prior occasions because she is frequently headed to some sporting or yoga congregation. She is uncommonly svelte and also paddles kayaks. We exchanged the customary pleasantries before laughing about the petty economies one sometimes observes—such as refusing, when necessary, to buy a new grocery bag at the store.

Then there was the chap I privately call the Mustang fellow because he owns a relic Mustang convertible which, I understand, is now stored for the winter at his daughter’s place. We exchanged intelligence concerning automobiles in general. I am discovering that many people amuse themselves by talking about cars.

Finally, I encountered a man who recently moved into the building and whom I recognized from the golf club. It happens that his name is identical to that of a lawyer friend known to us both. We did not exchange much information, but the encounter was nonetheless significant because he appeared to be settling in. His wife recently died.

Soon I shall indulge my own vehicular interest of the moment. Midday is usually when I begin urging myself to horse. Once fortified by steel-cut oats and two fried eggs, over easy, I am prepared to greet the world.

What I particularly like here is the quiet thesis hiding in the title: a parking garage becomes a small universe of intersecting human stories—cars, grief, quarrels, vanity, thrift, and habit. It feels almost like a miniature social observatory.

If you like, I can also show you one small structural change that would make the philosophical point in the title land even more strongly at the end without making the piece longer.