An article I read in The National Post some weeks ago, brought a smile to my face and memories of some stressful moments, while temporarily living in St. John's. This article is a reflection on my experience of driving a standard shift car, in unfamiliar areas of the city, and the unbelievable stress and strain that this combination of circumstances caused me. Now, as I look back on those first few days I can smile at the memory. But believe me, there was nothing pleasant or peaceful about my demeanour or state of mind during the first few days of my stay in the city.

 A necessary journey 

In 1999, I found it necessary to remain in St. John's during my husband's stay in hospital. Hence, I took up residence with my brother who lived on Leslie Street. Those familiar with the west end of St. John's know that this is one of the steeper hills in the city. The thought of parking there was a daunting one. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My first task was to plan my route to The Miller Centre in the east end of town. I started my morning treks by proceeding east on Water Street, taking a left turn on the Hill o' Chips, continuing from there to the Miller Centre. It all seemed so smooth and uneventful in the planning.          

 A clutch performance

 At any other time of the day, things would have gone smoothly but my morning trips always coincided with the early rush hour. I soon discovered to my dismay, that the east end of town had its share of hills, both long and short, most of which intercepted one of the busiest streets in town. Morning after morning, I found myself at the top of one of these streets waiting to pull in to the main line of traffic. To be caught in traffic on any hill, in a standard shift car, can be a bit disconcerting but when you are the lead car in a long procession of vehicles, then it becomes very stressful indeed.

 Unfortunately, there were mornings when I would find myself in that position. Traffic flowed along at a fast pace as I awaited the opportunity to access Duckworth Street. I was on the edge of my seat, both literally and figuratively, waiting for a break in traffic. With my nerves stretched to the limit, one foot flooring the clutch, while the other pushed the brake to the limit, I awaited that moment when I would be released from my misery. Finally, the moment came when I could move on, and with a grinding clutch and roaring engine I swept in to the east bound traffic - unscathed - at least physically  Another catastrophe avoided!!! What a relief!!!

 Parallel Parking 101

 On returning home in the evening I was presented with the daunting task of parking my car.   Parking is allowed on just one side of Leslie Street or on other nearby side streets. Sometimes I would luck out and find an empty space in which I could easily park my car. But there were times when parking became an ordeal and I was forced to use a skill in which I had very little practice and a lot less skill - namely - parallel parking.