Quotes About Parking

Audi takes on Lexus's automatic parking systems with ads that say Audi drivers know how to park their own cars.

The sign at the end of the parking lot burned GEIN'S MOTEL in hot blue neon. He peered at the sign strangely, as if someone might be hiding behind it.

But of Marcus Felstead there was no sign. Pascoe had pulled into the Club car park close behind the Evanses' car. He had not got out immediately, but sat and watched the broad Welshman and his wife pick their way carefully over the already frosted surface towards the club-house.

Fifteen minutes," she said, climbing out. "At least. I gotta park my truck somewhere else. And walk all the way back. And sneak all the way in. Secret rendezvous, you know…they take time.

As you may have noticed, here we were living in a Swedish car in the parking lot of a Swedish mega-retailer. ??

On my life, Magnus, I swear this is the truth: your father is a Norse god. Now, hurry. We're in a twenty- minute parking spot.

The other cars had to pass noisily around us, but there was no anti-parking sign. Through the windshield, we could see another under-bridge area in front of us, and the cars that passed us were forming a line to enter it.

He relents and says he'll meet with me tomorrow in his Manhattan office. That will give me time to do a Kickstarter campaign to raise money for the parking.

FOR THE THIRD TIME THAT WEEK, Harry Jones had taken my parking spot. So I decided to hide a key of uncut Columbian ya ya in a dead baby and stick it in his trunk under his spare tire.

My grandma's the most careful, safe driver in the world. You put her in a rental car, and she's doing doughnuts in the K-Mart parking lot!

twin gods of Smooth Traffic and Ample Parking—have turned our downtowns into places that are easy to get to but not worth arriving at.

I pulled into the parking lot, went inside, turned down a free sample of nasty-looking Bourbon chicken from a vendor in the food court, and proceeded to Gamer's Castle. "Hi," said the gawky teenager behind the counter. I nodded and briefly looked through the racks of role-playing game merchandise. There was Dungeons and Dragons stuff out the wazoo, and even kits for hosting your own murder mystery parties, should I ever grow weary of having my murder mystery needs satisfied by real life.

I've always thought that parallel parking was my main talent.

I say, "I almost forgot. Your car was parked in a two-hour zone and I was afraid you were going to get a ticket, so I gave your car away.

Count to sixty and start again, trying to time the drive. It's well over an hour. In most towns that would mean we're halfway to Argentina, but in L.A. it means we could be circling the block looking for parking.

Usually, I park on North Rossmore in front of the Spartan Apartment Hotel, but tonight I drove to the alley behind the Spartan and pulled into one of the slots there.

managed a hamburger and malt at a Spring Street cafe, then found a spot between Third and Fourth on Broadway to park my sick-yellow Cadillac. I squeezed into the slot, stuck a nickel in the parking meter, and walked ten steps to the Hamilton Building wherein resides Sheldon Scott, Investigations, one flight up.

I parked my Cad around the corner on Olive Street, walked down Seventh to the middle of the block, then took a left. I walked between the shoe store on my left and the cafeteria on my right, into the alley about twenty feet, and stopped right in front of the elevator door. The elevator was there on my right; all I had to do was climb inside and be merrily on my way.

downtown L.A., I drove along Broadway past Third Street, parked in a lot between Third and Fourth, and walked back to the Hamilton Building

Angeles was safe from invasion; the invaders wouldn't find a place to park—I

Two attendants were on duty in the parking lot. Scott parked across their entrance, and got out. The older attendant was a Latin man in his fifties with short black hair and a red vest. He hurried over when he saw Scott block their drive, but pulled up short when he saw Scott's uniform. This was the cop effect. He said, "You wan' to park?" Scott let Maggie out. The man saw her, and took a step back. This was the German shepherd effect. Scott

I put the Corvette in its spot in the parking garage and rode up in the elevator and went into my office and closed the door. There was a message on my answering machine from someone looking for Bob, but that was probably a wrong number. Or maybe it wasn't a wrong number. Maybe I was in the wrong office. Maybe I was in the wrong life.

people worked us across the plaza and down to the parking structure. I moved with the crush of bodies the way a leaf is carried by the wind, a part of an unseen world, yet not.

I drove back to Belmont Pier, parked in front of a shop that sold whale-watching tickets, and used a pay phone there to call Lou Poitras. He said, "Bubba, you really take advantage." "Funny. Your wife said the same thing." Poitras sighed. "Just tell me what you want." Humor. You break them down with humor, and victory is yours.