Neecha's Blog

I live in the suburbs, where each house has one covered garage spot and two spots in front of the garage. There are two additional spots in front of each house, by the sidewalk. Our house is pretty much in the middle of the block. Our caucasian neighbors on our left are a family of four: mother, father, and two sons, a couple years older than my older brother. On our right, a Chinese family of four: mother, father, two young daughters.

For as long as I can remember, our neighbors have been inconsiderate jerks. From when I was growing up, up until a couple days ago, the caucasian family has always had a trailer parked in their driveway, and about 5 junky old cars/trucks: Blue van, two ford pick up trucks, an old fashioned sedan, and some old compact car the mother uses. The Chinese family moved in when I was a teen, and they have always had two cars.

During my childhood when my family had three cars, the Caucasian neighbor’s blue van was always parked in front of our house. When I got older each one of my family members had one car (my brother lived in the city but occasionally spent the night), plus my mom’s friend’s red van was sometimes parked at our house. During this time, the neighbor’s junky old sedan was always parked in front of our house. They never moved their car, except when the street was being re-paved.

Because we always had at least four cars to deal with, we didn’t have enough space in front of our house to park all of our cars, so we would always be ansy if we moved the car that was parked in front of our house. Every house on our block typically has one car in front of the garage and one in front of their house.

Once, we parked one of our cars in front of our Chinese neighbor’s house, and after a week we got a short note saying that if we left our car parked for more than seven days, it would be considered abandoned and they would tow it. Needless to say, we moved the car and labeled our Chinese neighbors as selfish bastards (because after we moved our car, they always parked one car so that it covered both spots in front of their house, and when someone parked behind their car, the car would jut out into our driveway).

Despite my protests, my dad always parked whatever car that we couldn’t fit in front of our house all the way around the corner, where there were never any cars parked. When a friend or relative wanted to park their car at our house while they were away on a trip somewhere overseas, their car would take the spot in front of our house and I would have to find parking elsewhere. This burden of moving our cars, because we had a spot in front of our house that we couldn’t use, really made me mad.

We tried to retaliate one afternoon, when our Caucasian neighbors moved one their cars from the spot in front of their house.  When we saw our chance, we swiftly moved our van from around the corner and parked it in front of their house. That should show them who’s the boss. By day two, we had a flat tire. When AAA came to fix it, the diagnosis was not a nail or any other puncture that deflated the tire. Oh, no. It was that air was let out of our tires. Those bastard neighbors! We moved our car back to its quiet spot around the corner and never parked in front of our selfish Caucasian neighbor’s house again. At the same time, their car was still in front of our house, reminding us of the battles we had lost.

It was unfair that we couldn’t even park our cars in front of our own house. Why would we have to “lose” when our neighbors didn’t seem to have any issue with parking their cars in front of our house (in addition to parking another one of their junky cars in front of the house on their left, yes I was monitoring the situation quite thoroughly) or taking up two spaces with one car, sabotaging a spot that we could use. I felt like my dad was making it ok for them to be jerks, reinforcing their selfish behavior, and we were getting the short end of the stick being the “good guys.”

I thought about letting the air out of our neighbor’s tires, or writing a note, or reporting their car as “abandoned” so the city would tow it. Or even taking pictures of the weeds growing underneath their car to prove that they never moved their car (if they did, they would’ve driven over the weeds and squashed them) just in case I would want to report them one day. Every time I saw their car (and even times when I was far away but just thinking of how much it hurt to have their car in front of our house) I felt helpless and angry. I hated our neighbors. We never waved or exchanged smiles with the Causasion neighbors because they were wrong to park in front of our house for over twenty years, plus they should’ve made some effort to sell their junky cars that were adding ugliness to the beautiful neighborhood. I tried to avoid any chance of eye-contact with the Chinese neighbors – only waved when I saw that they saw me, or when they yelled a greeting I couldn’t deny having heard.

My mom tried to help me feel better and understand the situation objectively, but none of her methods worked. She said I should feel sympathy for our Caucasion neighbors because they’re poor, look at the paint that’s been peeling off of their house for years, and their old cars were out of commission. I thought, if the cars didn’t work, then take them to a junk yard, instead of junking up my yard. And obviously, if they could move it when the streets were being repaved, they could move it and park it around the corner like my dad did. My mom mentioned that their son had cancer and the treatment was expensive, they really didn’t have it easy. I thought, so what, the cars are a separate matter- common courtesy.

My mom told me to think about how in the city, it’s rare to park in front of your own house because there are so many cars. At times, we will even walk blocks to a parking spot without complaining. So if a spot is in front of your house, that doesn’t universally mean that it’s reserved for you. I argued that I understood how that applied in the city, but in the suburbs, there aren’t a lot of cars and there’s a lot of space in front of each house, specifically reserved for each relative household’s usage. With two hour parking and street cleaning in the city, the cars are always moving so everyone has a chance- no one gets to park their car without ever moving it.

I was always very determined in my hatred for my neighbors. Even my friends who visited would be pointed out how unfair the situation was, jumped on board and said they were appalled at the selfish behavior my neighbors proudly exhibited without any inkling of shame.

Then gradually, we took my mom’s friend’s van and parked it another location so it could be put to good use, donated our big van to the temple, sold my brother’s car, and there were only two cars left: mine and my dad’s. By the beginning of this year, no matter what, we always had enough parking spots. Now, what was I pissed about? The fact that I couldn’t park in the middle of the garage because my dad might not have a spot if someone parks in front of our house, in front of the Caucasion neighbor’s junky old sedan. I still felt restricted because of our neighbor’s greed (too many cars) and selfishness (parking in front of our house for years).

Mid-March, I happened to come home in the afternoon (typically I leave early and come home after 11pm). After glancing at our neighbor’s car and shaking my head at them, I parked my car in the driveway and went inside. When I emerged a couple minutes later, the neighbors had another one of their trucks parked in front of our house, but this one was facing the old sedan. They were jumpstarting the old sedan. For a split second, I felt sympathetic because I know from personal experience that it’s never fun to have to jumpstart a car, but at the same time, I was thinking, “You’d better not leave your stupid truck in front of our house, too, or else I’ll really have to do something this time….” I walked out to my car, shot them a disapproving glance, got in my car and drove away while watching their cars from my rearview until I couldn’t see them anymore.

The next day, I emerged from my house to find that they were finally moving the sedan, and it wasn’t because the streets were being repaved. Yesssssssssss. Finally. But no. The son got in his truck and drove up behind the sedan, to replace the spot in front of our house. As I stepped out, the dad and son turned to look at me. What I expected to be looks of pleasure and  victory was neither. I was surprised to see shock and fear, as if I had just caught someone stealing.

That image stuck with me as I tried to understand this foreign feeling that I was experiencing. All this time, I thought that they enjoyed tormenting us, that they could park somewhere else but didn’t.  In that split second that I saw their faces, I realized that what I had perceived to be true all along was a falsehood that existed only in my mind. They had to hurry and move the cars when we weren’t around, because they might possibly lose their spot. It wasn’t enjoyable, it sucked. They had to plan, they had to work together, they had to wait for the right moment. They had to guard and protect that spot.

It dawned on me that all this time I had been under the impression that the rights to that parking spot were mine (because my mom, dad, and brother stopped caring a long time ago). But in reality, if they had been using, protecting, guarding that spot for years, it was pretty much theirs, wasn’t it? And the truth was, I didn’t even need the spot, so what was I fighting for?

Only then could I see my ugliness that existed for as long as they had been parking in front of our house. I couldn’t smile at them or feel sympathetic about their son’s cancer or their poverty just because of a parking spot? I suddenly felt ashamed for feeling like I was getting some vengeance each time I (purposely) backed up a little too hard on accident and hit their car. The whole time I thought they should sell and get rid of their excess of junky cars, I felt like we didn’t have to get rid of our cars because each of our cars still served a purpose. I thought back to how their cars needed to be jumpstarted. I remembered when I had to jumpstart my brother’s car and was afraid the battery would die when a potential buyer was taking it on a test run. It wasn’t easy to sell the car. My brother’s car was still in good condition, but we couldn’t even get a good price for it because of the state of the economy. And just judging from the exterior their cars were in far worse conditions. I used to hate those old cars, but now I could see them for what they were- old.

I had always believed they could sell their cars whenever they wanted to, but they just didn’t. I realized my flaw in thinking that. I also saw that I was unfair to take my anger out on my dad whenever he parked the car around the corner, because my dad was not being a wuss, he was being the bigger man. He wasn’t preoccupied with revenege tactics like I was. He didn’t try to change the neighbors like I did. I once asked the neighbors if they were planning to ever move their car from in front of our house, and the dad said, “Yeah, when I get it to work.” I thought it was a blatant lie, but I suddenly realized that I was true. I always assumed it was a lie, that the car always worked but they were just being jerks- but didn’t I see it jumpstarted? Didn’t I see their cars with the hoods up practically every week?

Once I could really understand that they didn’t derive the enjoyment from the parking situation that I had originally perceived, and that they were acting out of necessity, I realized that I was the one who was foolish. I had made my neighbor’s suffering into a battle that I was never set to win. And boy did I suffer for my stupidity. It was obvious to me at that point that there was no true owner of the parking spot. If they wanted it, they could have it. It was plain to see that they needed it and had earned it more than I did.

After that, I noticed something strange in my behavior. During the week of my realization, when I drove home, I kept almost turning into my Chinese neighbor’s driveway. All these years, I never noticed that our houses were similar in design and color. I had only focused on the old sedan parked in front of our house, and had been using it as a landmark to signify where I should turn into my driveway. I had been so focused on the neighbor’s car, that in my mind my house was defined by the neighbor’s sedan parked in front of it! But once I wasn’t focused on the sedan anymore (I could care less) I finally could see my house for the first time.

And guess what happened just two weeks after my realization?  After years of internal battling, once I stopped caring and silently bowed out, they moved their car! Now the spots in front of our house are completely vacant. Anyone care to park?