Quotes About Parking

Chavez Ravine is a broad flat bowl surrounded by low mountains that wall the stadium from the city. Dodger Stadium sits in the center of the bowl, surrounded by black tarmac parking lots like some kind of alien spacecraft resting alone on its launching pad. All you'd need was a big shiny robot, and you'd think Michael Rennie had come back to Earth.

I parked in the basement, then took an elevator to the lobby where I went through a metal detector and gave my name to a guy who looked like he ate a Pontiac for breakfast. Then I took another elevator up to seventeen.

As the firing stopped, Pike saw an oversized white SUV on the far side of the parking lot, only this SUV wasn't an ordinary police vehicle. The blue lettering and insignia on the side were difficult to see in the dim light, but visible. ATF. SPECIAL RESPONSE TEAM. The Special Response Team was the ATF version of SWAT. "Jon.

I'll be there in five." Eight minutes later I parked in the parking garage, climbed the four flights to my floor, and walked down the hall. The building has an elevator, but tough guys climbed stairs. Picture me bristling with manliness. Also, impatience. Cindy's door was closed. The door to the little insurance agency across from my office was closed. My door was open.

Pike slipped behind the wheel of his Jeep, lowered the sun visor, then started the engine. None of the three men looked toward the enormous Do-It-Yourself parking lot across the street. They would have seen nothing if they had. The Jeep was just another tree in a two-hundred-tree forest. Pike

A breeze wafted over her face, and she realized she was in the parking lot next to Jean-Luc's BMW. She must have

attitude, the cosmetic's department would be busy. Women buying new lipsticks and earrings and men looking lost, trying to remember what perfume their wives had worn for the last twenty years. The new store manager had assigned inexperienced sales clerks to cosmetics. They wouldn't make the customers any happier. Why did each new manager think a reorganization would make everything better? Marissa swung her Rabbit into the parking space and waited for the

a driveway and a garage built more for automobiles

When I was 17, I went to India for six weeks and had what, at the time, was a very challenging trip. You walk down the street and you see lepers and beggars, and there were several of us, a group of Americans. I remember we were just trying to park one night somewhere and people were just sleeping in the parking lot.

Cities could open up their property and assets to sharing economy apps that make it easier to find parking spaces or homes for rent. By aligning private-sector incentives with the public good, cities will create confidence among taxpayers.

The place was out in Jersey . . . Newark. And while that made living with yourself harder, it did make parking somewhat easier.

I used to work in a Fotomat booth. Talk about the world's worst office Christmas party. I sat in a mall parking lot with a punchbowl and a candy cane.

Life is a journey, but don't worry, you'll find a parking spot at the end.

Do they think that, if left to our own devices, we'd all park on zebra crossings for a year? If they do, it means they don't trust us. And if they don't trust us, then the relationship has broken down and it's time for some civil unrest.

I made what must have been about a sixty-point turn and eventually managed to squeeze out of the small and crowded car park at the rear

Five minutes to three in the afternoon. Exactly sixty-one hours before it happened. The lawyer drove in and parked in the empty lot. There was an inch of new snow on the ground, so he spent a minute fumbling in the foot well until his overshoes were secure. Then he got out and turned his collar up and walked to the visitors' entrance. There was a bitter wind out of the north. It was thick with fat lazy flakes. There was a storm sixty miles away. The radio had been full of it. The

nervous, which might have meant that back there in the parking lot the guy's heart was going as fast as 180 beats a minute, which meant those T-waves

Smudge continued running laps, flames flickering like tiny orange banners on his back. He was never wrong about danger, but he couldn't tell you if that danger was a meteorite streaking toward the roof or an amorous moose running amok in the parking lot.

Reverse-parking in a small space is one of those high-pressure situations where a critical, watching eye becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If you were recruiting for a white supremacist cause on a Sunday morning, you'd likely have more success hanging out in the parking lot have an average white Christian Church —evangelical Protestant, mainline Protestant, or Catholic —than approaching whites sitting out services at the local coffee shop.

As a nation we are dedicated to keeping physically fit and parking as close to the stadium as possible.

You know you live in Phoenix when you are willing to park 3 blocks away because you actually found shade from a palm tree imported 300 miles from California and nurtured with water piped 250 miles from Nevada.

The only reason I'm an actor is that a lady pulled out of a parking space in front of a producer's office.

The white zone is for loading and unloading only. If you gotta load or unload, go to the white zone...