Parking at the Ballpark on Opening Day is terrible, and every spot is precious. So what does the proud owner of this 75-foot, extended-extended-really extended pickup truck do? Why nudge his precious truck just enough into both parking spots so as to avoid another car needlessly parking behind him.
The normal person shakes their head, and finds another spot.
I am not a normal person. Fueled by irritation, the need to find a men's room, plus spiked with the security of driving a car with a handful of scratches and 124,000 miles, I pulled in any way.
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