What's in your garage?

Webster defines Garage as: a shelter or repair shop for automotive vehicles. Since I actually believed this is what a garage is for, I park my car in my garage. Am I the only person who does this?

I take my dog for a walk every day. Both temperatures and humidity have been high this summer so I have been walking her quite early in the morning. I have enjoyed these walks because it is much cooler and more pleasant.

One morning, as I walked around the circle of the neighborhood, I noticed that almost everyone seemed to have 3 or four cars – sometimes more. All of these homes have two car garages so do they have 2 more cars inside those garages? Probably not, right?

There are 3 drivers in the house across the street from me yet they have 4 cars. 3 are parked in the driveway and the 4th is parked in the street, directly across from my driveway. They frequently open their garage door on the weekends and guess what . . . . no cars inside it. It is apparently used for storage only. Obviously there is a new definition for “garage” and no one has notified Webster’s (or any of the other) dictionary. I suppose it now means a place to put your junk until you get up enough nerve to finally throw it away. I once asked my neighbor not to park their car across from my driveway because it is in a blind spot for anyone who is backing out. I was rather nastily told that it is inconvenient for them to park anywhere else and they don’t want to park on the grass next to their driveway because it would ruin the lawn.

As I walked around the circle, I saw that most people were parking their additional cars on the grass in their yard. I suppose they realized that a residential street is narrow and parking in the street leaves only one lane. I wondered if there was a city ordinance regarding parking in the street but realized that if there was, my neighbor would have enough tickets to wallpaper their entire house. I have given up on them but was happy to see that most of my neighbors are more courteous.

Well, guess what. Sometimes fate makes a statement for us. As I neared my house, a car I had never seen before pulled into my driveway. I stopped to see if I recognized the driver but the driver just backed out. He was simply turning around. Unfortunately for my neighbor, he had parked one of his cars exactly where the blind spot is located. The car backed right into my neighbor’s car. I couldn’t help smiling and resumed walking back to my house. The unknown driver turned out to be discourteous too. He didn’t stop. He straightened up and drove away. I noted the kind of car and color but didn’t manage to get the license number.

When I got to my driveway I noticed that the damage to the car wasn’t very bad and remembering the father’s rather superior attitude, I decided to wait. I went inside and promptly forgot all about it. I figured that they would come over to see if I had done it or if I saw who did. Later I noticed father and son surveying the damage but luckily it was quite obvious that my car hadn’t done the damage. They didn’t come over and ask me if I saw anything and, as mean and vindictive as it sounds, I didn’t tell them anything. So, I suppose we should tell Webster there is also a new meaning for the phrase: Don’t ask. Don’t tell.

Shame on me!