On Backing Up

Until now, I was having a lot of difficulty getting the property management company to plow our driveway. They have several businesses that have contracted with them to have their lots plowed. Well yes, I guess I'm not paying so I can wait. And, waited I have. I've also waded - through a foot of snow to clean off my car, driven over it to get to work, and over it again at the end of the day. At that point, I've called three times and they may as well NOT plow. What is the point? None yet. We're getting to it.

Let me just tell you that our driveway is BIG. Big enough to park 8 cars without ever having to ask anyone to move so you could back out...big enough to fit all eight without parking on the neighbor's lawn. [For the record, we weren't on their lawn. I'm pretty sure that if you spray painted, say, a white line from the end of the fence to the edge of the road, you would see we had at least an inch to spare. Ok I'm positive that's what you would find. We did it; I have photos.]. REGARDLESS of the lack of neighborly love, it is a big driveway. Big enough to fit one of those state plow trucks down it, even with all 8 cars in place.

Yesterday, it snowed approximately one inch. Maybe less. This is the night the plow guy decides it's really important to come. ONE INCH. I certainly don't want to discourage him, but I would like to know how, given the smallness of his plow truck and the largeness of our driveway, he managed to absolutely demolish our best recycle bin that happened to be NOT IN OUR DRIVEWAY AT ALL.

What's done is done. The recycle bin simply didn't stand a chance against a plow truck driver that was backing up with such recklessness. I started berating him in my head for not knowing how to drive and mentally suggesting that he consider a new career as a Shriner (smaller car).

At that moment, I realized it isn't entirely his fault. He didn't grow up as my father's kid and therefore didn't get what I would consider to be the best fatherly advice known to man. I mean yes, my dad taught us not to float dishes in the dishpan - the food sticks. He also insisted we wear ball caps to the fair - I forgot once after I got to be an invincible adult and my nose peeled for three solid weeks. He taught me to keep a roll of electrical tape in my glovebox and not to pick up hitchhikers, but he also taught me a thing or two about the actual driving (including one incredibly short lesson on driving stick).

We were sitting in the Irving parking lot, I looked behind me and started to back out. Further, a little further. Further than that. He turns and looks at me and says something that recycle bins everywhere wish everyone knew: Only back up as far as you have to to move forward.

Yes, Dad. I will.