The first year we were married, Paul and I lived in a smallish (actually it was rather large) 2 bedroom apartment in Utah. While we loved the apartment, the driveway and parking lot was a nightmare.
The entire area was just big enough for cars to park in front of the building with room left over for a single car to drive behind them in order to get to your spot. So one side of the entire drive way was line with the ends of cars. The other side of the drive way was line with a row of bright red poles. There was no space for turning around – you simply pulled in and backed out. Pulling in wasn’t such a big deal, its always a bit easier to see where you are going, but backing out sent me into a nervous breakdown every time. Paul hated it too. I was always terrified of running into all the cars as I passed by.
On morning, I was pregnant with Elizabeth, I was backing the car out to head to my classes at BYU. I was feeling particularly nervous as there were a few large cars still parked in the lot. All of a sudden I heard a terrific screeching noise. Panicked I slammed on my brake and looked to my right expecting to see masses of wrecked cars. With a slight relief I saw all the cars over there were all intact. Then I looked to my left. I had run the car right up next to the red poles. I couldn’t even open my door. There was nothing I could do, but to throw the car into drive and pull forward. Timidly I edged forward, screeching all the way until I was free of the cursed red poles. But now I was in tears – I had to tell my husband of only a few months that I had wrecked the car on those dumb red poles.
Paul was such a sweetheart, he wasn’t even mad. He took of the side of the car, dismantled the door and pounded the huge massive dents back out – and scrubbed off all the red paint. But he isn’t such a sweet heart now – every time we go driving anywhere, my ears are constantly assaulted by, “Look out for those poles! Watch it, that’s a red one!”
I usually smack him as we dissolve into giggles.