Let's Go Parking

Ever since I hit the Midwest, parking overnight with my big girl Ethel has become a problem. Perhaps because of the winters, or because of their age, many towns have narrow streets and prohibit parking on them - sometimes in the wee hours only, sometimes all the time. Nor is this prohibition always posted....I've learned to carefully observe whether or not there are cars on the street and to look carefully for signs indicating the verboten hours.

Of course, I prefer not to be in cities at all unless I have some business there. In the Western states, public land is so plentiful that there's almost always a national forest or grassland a short shot away, and beautiful free spots for self-contained Ethel are easy to come by. As I head east, space is at a premium, thanks to all us folks; and I'm apprehensive about what I'll encounter in New England, where I'm fortunate to have several screenings set up.

A screening in Ann Arbor goes well, and my hosts are absolutely lovely - even treating me to an Itzhak Perlman concert. Then I follow the curve of Lake Erie into Ohio. Arriving in Cleveland, I've been advised to stay on the west side of town, and discover that that part of the city even allows street parking; so my first night goes well. However, when I try to use GPS to get to the UU church where Greg once worked, I'm taken on a very long, circuitous, and pothole-hellish tour of a seriously troubled town. Economic blight and much-needed road construction are the hallmarks of Cleveland, as far as I can tell.

After meeting the UU church administrator, who remembers Greg fondly, and giving the church a copy of "Preacher's Sons", I'm thinking I'll visit Cuyahoga National Park, just south of Cleveland. Somehow, though, I miss the park entirely and wind up a half hour south, in Akron. As it's Saturday, I decide to stay over and attend Sunday services at the UU church of Akron, which is in the suburb of Fairlawn, home to a great strip of malls and tidy residences with looong driveways. And I know by now what those driveways mean - no street parking.

That night I see a wonderful movie - "500 Days of Summer" - that came highly recommended; thank you, Lee. And I've already scouted the UU church for afterward. The church has a large lot, and I park without incident at the back. The next morning, up early - my new custom - I watch the minister and the choir come in. None gives me so much as a glance, and I file that information under "churches, possible parking spots". I attend the single service, introducing myself to everyone I can corner, and am invited to attend the Unitarian Women's Association High Tea following the service (celery sticks and cookies). The Director of Religious Education remembers Greg from when they were colleagues. I give him a copy of the film, and he gives me directions to a choice hiking trail in the National Park.

Leaving the Park late in the afternoon (I got lost on the trail), I head east again. I drive until I'm exhausted, but no good parking place presents itself. Finally, I break an unacknowledged vow to myself and park - for the first time - in a Walmart lot. I'm glad to have broken that cherry, as it's not too bad after all, and I have a feeling I'll need to do it again.

Sure enough, the following night, delighted to have left Ohio for western Pennsylvania, which I've long wanted to visit, I'm again unable to find either suitable public land or a town with street parking. It's late, and I finally find a mall-ish area with a Penny's and a Sears. Unsure whether the local gendarme will sanction this selection of a camping spot, I hit on what seems a brilliant idea: I'll park near the Sears Auto Center, and if rousted will explain (pitiably) that I was having electrical issues (true enough) and just decided to park and wait for the shop to open the next morning. Still, I'm uneasy, waiting for that inevitable pounding on the door, and toss and turn for hours. I have an alarm set for 7:00, thinking I'll get up and drive away before the employees arrive, should I be so fortunate as to make it through the night.

Near dawn I doze off. I'm deep in a dream when the sound of a car door wakes me. Slam! Then several more in quick succession: Slam! Slam! Slam! Oh my god - I'm surrounded! Certain that the police have multiple guns drawn and aimed at Ethel, I quickly slide out of bed and into the pants I've carefully positioned, ready for this moment. Hair poking out at wild angles like a homeless woman's (appropriate, I guess), I peak out from behind my curtains. Striding purposefully away from me toward the main Sears store are the 7:00 employees, who apparently park there in front of the Auto Center. I am surrounded, but only by pick ups and last millennium Chevys. Shutting off the alarm, I crank Ethel and squeeze between the cars. As I pull back onto the highway, I notice what I missed the night before - the Walmart across the way.

Note to self: research all the Walmarts along my trajectory, as well as public lands and city parking regulations. Do this somehow without an Internet connection.