I'd Pay To Watch Her Park

A new person has moved into my building recently and she has brought with her a Ford Ltd station wagon from the early 70s. This car is enormous. This car should be in a museum. This car should have F-16s landing on it's roof.

Watching her parallel park it in front of the building is one of the finest pleasures in my life. The patterns this car traces on the street as it tries to safely land would look something like an etcha-sketch drawing done by a churlish chimp on speed. Just when you think she has it safely home the universe slips and the car winds up perpendicular to the sidewalk.

At first I thought it would cost her a fortune to put gas in this monster from the Land of Watergate. Then I realized that whenever she wants to go somewhere all she has to do is get in the back-seat of the car, wait a little bit, and get out of the front door at her destination.

It has wood paneling on the outside for style and speed, and a kitchen and a chef on the inside, in case you become famished during parking. (I seem to recall something about Ronald Reagan firing most of the Ltd chefs in 1984 but that could be one of those false memories)

I wonder where she gets her 8-tracks?

I wonder if she has Hello It's Me by Todd Rundgren?