A few weeks ago, after our first significant snowfall of the season, I wrote about driving to work and backing into a parking space in the snow-covered TobacCo parking lot. This drew the ire of my uncle Tom, who harangued me on Facebook.
Tom: Oh, the ignominy to learn that I’m related to a backer-inner. I’ll probably survive the shock, but the disappointment is great.
Mark: I’ve been a backer-inner my whole life. Scott gives me grief, too. What’s so bad about backing in?
Tom: The main thing is that the people in front and behind you don’t know whether you’re going forward into a space or backing in. Also, it’s more difficult to back into a space, so backer-inners often either park off-center in a single space or park in the middle of two spaces. And it just make more sense to go in forward because it’s much harder to back into a narrow space than to back out into a wide open area. There was a time when it was much easier and safer to go forward out of a space than to back out, but the advent of rear-view cameras has pretty much eliminated the difference.
Scott’s my brother, by the way. He also despises backer-inners. But I’ve long been an advocate. In fact, one of my earliest blog posts was devoted to how backing in will save my life. Way back in 2010, I declared the time saved pulling headfirst out of a parking spot could mean the difference between life and death in the event of an earthquake, zombie attack, or nuclear bomb. Which just goes to show you one thing:
I’ve been melodramatic for a long damn time.
But also a forward-thinker. Ha! #parkingpuns
What can I say? I love backing into parking spots. And at home, if I want to park in the garage — which I do, because it’s Wisconsin, and cold, and we’re located beneath a busy bird flightpath (need I say more?) — I have to back in because of a metal support pole that would otherwise trap me inside my vehicle or force me to exit through the passenger door, struggling to avoid being impaled by the gearshift or parking brake. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
For what it’s worth, I’m really good at backing in. (And parallel parking, too. I’m an ace at that. Just ask Tara.) I’ve been doing it for many years and have it all down to a science. This fella never straddles the line! And to assuage another of my uncle’s concerns, I never hold other drivers hostage with my parking shenanigans. I’m way too polite for that. If there is another car anywhere in the vicinity, I pull into the spot headfirst.
Holy cow, I’ve used harangued and assuage in one blog post. I’m busting out the $5 words today, folks! But I digress.
I will concede that rear-view cameras have made backing out of regular spaces much safer and easier, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, old habits die hard.
So, you can berate me until you’re blue in the face, but I will never not back into a parking space! Unless the space in front is also empty, in which case I can simply pull forward. That’s like finding a random onion ring in your French fries, aka, hitting the jackpot. Otherwise, you’ll have to pry the R gear from my cold, dead hands.
Speaking of impalement, I almost was.
The day we had a bunch of trees removed from our property last month, I was outside taking a few “before” photos. I posted this one…
…but was too embarrassed at the time to mention what happened immediately afterward. Seconds after snapping this photo, I backed up to get a shot from a wider angle — and tripped over the concrete septic tank cover. The one with the thick iron chain and large protruding metal handle. Parking spaces aren’t the only thing I back into apparently.
I went down so hard, I not only scraped and bruised my legs and back, I was convinced I’d broken my tailbone. No joke. My ass hurt for a couple of weeks after, a dull throb that worsened whenever I rose to my feet from a seated position. I looked like an old man, hunched over in pain, rubbing the general vicinity of my lower lower back.
The thing is, there’s nothing you can do about a broken tailbone, right? It’s not like they can slap a cast on your butt. Treatment involves specially designed cushions, hot and cold packs, drugs, and time. In retrospect, it was probably just a bruise, because a broken tailbone can take months to heal. I was fine by New Year’s Day.
You know, the damage could have been a lot worse than a tailbone injury. Had I had landed differently, it’s not inconceivable that I could have shattered my spine and ended up paralyzed. The worst part (other than the whole being a paraplegic thing, of course) would have been telling people for all eternity that I was confined to a wheelchair because I nearly fell into the shitter.
Here’s the funny part: I discovered — much later, when deleting photos from my phone — that I had inadvertently captured my fall.
Based on the angle, this was probably the exact moment my ass hit the concrete. With my phone still clutched tightly in my hand, the force of the fall must have caused my finger to press down on the camera button. And now the moment is captured for all posterior-ity, you might say.
Are you a backer-inner? What are your feelings about those who choose to back into parking spots? Ever broken a bone, tail or otherwise?
Mark My Words 
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