Maybe you’re late for a movie.
Perhaps your judgmental mother-in-law is accompanying you to a torturous, one-on-one lunch in a fancy restaurant.
Or maybe you just happen to find that perfect parking spot on a busy Friday night, and there’s a never-ending line of cars waiting not-so-patiently behind you.
Whatever it is, this is one of those times where you had better cut the wheel at the exact, correct angle or it’s gonna be really embarrassing.
You think back to when you were 16 years old, taking your driver’s license test after waiting for an hour at the DMV…what was the method again? Line up the cars, cut the wheel when it is past the mirror? AM I GONNA HIT THE CURB???
Your face turns red, and you behave like you’re genuinely surprised that curbs exist, as if they just invented them; “Wha…where did that…wasn’t there before…must have cut too soon…”
The only thing that can make this situation worse is the people that try and help you–sometimes these people are in the car with you, even worse, sometimes they’re pedestrians. The 65-year-old man in the Cabela’s baseball cap starts making wide, sweeping arm gestures and humorously barks orders as you shrivel in humiliation: “Alright now back up. Keep going, keep going, STOP! Now go forward, STOP! Cut the wheel, go back, STOP! There ya go, champ! Finally, I thought we’d be here all night!”
Once you’re legally in the spot, it doesn’t matter how far from the curb you are, you just want to get out of the car. You’ve begun to sweat already, and you might even be shaking a little.
Shake it off, you’ll get it next time, champ.