BLOWIN’ GASKETS
STORY SIMON MAJORC
AR parks. They’re the culmination
of everything that is wrong with the
world, a place where mobile phones,
social media, dashcams, road rage,
selfishness, automation, bad drivers, over-
optioned soundproof cars and objects-in-
this-mirror-being-closer-than-they-appear all
converge in one location to test the patience
and temper of anyone trying to live a normal life.
Recently, a morning out with my better half
seemed like a good call to unwind on a Sunday,
so we chose to grab a hot breakfast at a favourite
haunt that is tacked on to the local shopping
centre. There’s no smashed avo and crumbled
feta served by a barista with a top-knot here; it’s
just good, normal, honest everyday food.
The obligatory Bunnings run was also on the
cards, so we decided to take our Mr Juicy Valiant
panel van to accomplish it all in one trip. Okay,
chancing your old-school ride at a car park is
asking for trouble, I know, but it’s been my daily
driver for yonks, so it’s a risk I accept in return
for enjoying some chrome-bumper V8 goodness
before we get governed off the road forever.
Not that I totally leave its fate in the lap of the
gods. I try and park away from other cars and
always reverse the van in deep where possible,
to keep the harder-to-source-and-repair rear
quarters and bumperettes away from potentialcarnage, while still pulling the sacrificial – as it’s
model-common – CL Valiant front clip in as far as
I can. And the thing is bright orange, FFS, with a
jacked-up 70s-style rear that makes it higher than
most Land Cruisers, so it’s fair to say I’ve got the
hi-vis factor covered too.
But on this particular day, the car park was
packed, so I found a spot, carried out my reverse-
park method and just hoped the cars that were
parked within a 360-degree radius of our spot
would still be there when we returned – no
movement should equal no damage.
But I was uneasy. Something felt wrong today,
so I took a restaurant seat that let me watch my
van in the distance. My missus is a car freak too,
so she knows the deal and gave me no grief for
staring past her while we talked, but eventually
I relaxed, dropped the paranoia and settled into
a great feed.
It wasn’t long before I noticed a lady milling
around my van; she was there for ages, but
playing on her phone, so I just figured she was
waiting for a mate or posting on Facebook about
how inconsiderate gas guzzlers like mine were
to the environment.
She eventually wandered off and we finished
soon after, bellies full and ready to tackle
Bunnings. We hopped into the van and noticed
a P-plater attempting to execute – and I use thatterm loosely – a reverse park into the now-vacant
spot next to me. It wasn’t looking good, as Miss
Oblivious approached the perpendicular park at
45 degrees with no steering input in sight. But I
had nowhere to go, as there was a car blocking
me in front that was waiting to get past her, so
we were trapped. Phew, the reverse lights went
off, and she pulled forward to have another go.
But there was no head over the shoulder or effort
being focussed on the rear-view mirrors – she
was just giggling along with her carload of Gen-Y
Kardashian wannabees – and she went for take
two, following the exact same path she took first
time ’round. The better half put my thoughts into
words and said: “She’s actually going to hit us!”
I jammed down the twin Regal horns, damn-near
melting the horn relay in the process.
Thankfully Miss Oblivious stopped, and the
car in front of me cracked the shits and pulled
around, which allowed me to escape. I was
wired now, but relieved we avoided damage, and
thankful we got back to the car when we did – five
minutes later it could have been a different story.
So we pressed on, jabbering on about car
parks and shit drivers and how some people
manage to get their licence, when I noticed a
small scrap of paper flapping under the wiper.
I cop the odd ‘Is this car for sale?’ note, so I
didn’t quite panic just yet, but my mind swungPARK LIFE
NEGOTIATING THE MYRIAD HAZARDS OF THE SHOPPING CENTRE CAR PARK
204204 STREET MACHINE STREET MACHINE