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I Like Bad Parking Spots.
Submitted by Staci DeVries (Grand Rapids, MI)
My dad’s simple, selfless, and terrible taste in parking spots has stuck with me to this day.
As a kid, almost every Sunday morning my dad would drive my younger sister and me to Sunday school before church. He taught the middle-schoolers so he had to be there anyway.
One Sunday I noticed something strange. Even though we were usually the first car to arrive at church (we always left early enough to pick-up donuts), my dad always chose to park in the very worst spot. He would head straight to the back row and far corner of the lot.
Week after week, I watched this happen. I thought maybe he was worried about his car getting scratched or hit. As a car dealer, my dad usually happened to be driving something nice and new. I guess it made sense but I still thought we could take our chances and park a little closer. After all, wasn’t that one of the few perks of being the first to church?
A few years later, with my hopes of front row parking long gone, I remember asking my dad about his choice in parking spots. I don’t recall his exact words but it was something to the effect of, “I like to save the good spots for the little old ladies.”
He wasn’t worried one bit about his car. Instead, he wanted to save the good spots for people who needed them more.
My dad’s simple, selfless, and terrible taste in parking spots has stuck with me to this day. And I try to remember that sometimes the very best spots are in the back row, far corner of the lot.