Apparently My Hands Were the Problem
· 2 min read
One of the things about driving around here is that eventually you stop questioning reality.
The streets are narrow. People park wherever physics allows, and occasionally where it doesn't. Roads become suggestions. Lanes become philosophical concepts. I've gotten used to it.
I'm driving the BMW through one of these neighborhoods when I come across a black BMW parked directly in my lane, facing me.
Fine.
I stop behind it and wait for the oncoming traffic to clear so I can drive around.