Gravel Roads And Gray Areas

Figures, the parking lot's full.

I'm sitting in my truck. In front of me, it looks like someone's about to pull out so I stop and wait. With my foot on the brake, I glance ahead from my spot along the side of the gravel driveway. It leads into a wide panel of grass that seems like it gradually keeps getting longer the further back it goes. Eventually, it meets the treeline and then slopes uphill into the lush, green ridge and the sunlit afternoon  sky. That's farmland in Vermont, for you. 

The car I'm waiting on does something like an eight point turn, which feels completely unnecessary, but I'm not in a rush or anything so I'm just watching with amusement.

Does that make me an asshole?

I wave as they pass for good measure, then roll left before sweeping right to back in. We're all here for the same reason, anyway: to pickup this week's CSA. The door to the building behind me opens and a woman with blond hair and a gray sun-hoody walks out. I wait while she strolls amiably between the cars, and then catch her shoot a very minor glance over her shoulder that looks like... hesitation?

What was that?

She disappears around the corner and I finish parking. Just as I'm turning to walk away from my truck, I see it; there's a sign on the building that says "LOADING ZONE: DO NOT BLOCK." 

Son of a—

Immediately, I'm wondering if the last person who parked here saw the sign... and I'm trying to justify my parking there because there were no other spots. WAIT. That's what that look was—that woman glanced back at the sign and was thinking of saying something to me.

Awww shit.

Just then, someone climbs into their car to leave. So, before there's time to reconsider, I turn back to go move my truck into their newly vacated spot.

---

Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
297/365

Would you have gone back to move your car?

onward.

For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.