The white vehicle was perilously close to the yellow line when I returned with my Chinese takeout Friday, so I swung the Chevy Cruze more to the right than usual.
The sound of the scrape sickened me.
For the first time in the nine months I’d been parking in the library’s underground parking garage, the one peppered with all the white posts, I’d clipped one.
When I told my sad tale to my co-workers upstairs, they told me that now I was an official member of the staff.
Yes, these tight spots corral us all, my colleagues assured me.
They congratulated me on hitting the post and not the other car.
They told me that sometimes the white paint can be rubbed off, no worse for wear. Sometimes more involved touch-up is needed.
I’ve yet to go there.
Have you hit anything in a parking garage, and if so, what and where?