Within the brown colored dented and scraped car I sat double parked waiting for alternate side parking on Friday. Much of life in NYC still remains impacted by corona. In the new normal, I haven’t taken the subway since March nor have I worked a minute in architecture since mid June. Theater, sports, and concert venues are still closed. The only thing that seems to be thriving is outdoor dining. Without safe indoor spaces to eat, restaurants have taken over parking spaces in the street for their tables and chairs. All these covid changes make parking more difficult.
After a couple months without street cleaning, alternate side parking returned to NYC late in the summer. It used to be that on Monday and Thursday a white Zamboni-like street cleaning vehicle would sweep the north sides of streets, and on Tuesday and Friday the Zamboni would alternate and clean the south sides of streets. Nowadays the city only cleans the streets 2 days a week - the northsides of streets on Thursday and the southsides on Friday. For those without experience alternate side parking in New York, it is like a game of high stakes musical chairs except no music or chairs. With more demand than supply, you have a surplus of cheapskate car owners like me vying for limited street parking after scheduled weekly street cleanings. If a street is supposed to be cleaned between 11-12:30 pm on Friday, people sit double parked in their cars on the north side of the street and wait for the street cleaning vehicle to pass before parking on the south side. Even if the street has been swept cleaned you can’t leave your car within the weekly alotted street cleaning time because police officers are liable to issue a ticket for unattended cars. People spend 90 minutes shifting their vehicles in this weekly car parking ritual.
If you don’t find a parking spot during street cleaning times, you’re like a lost soul left to circle around the streets till someone leaves. It could take hours to find a spot. In foraging for parking spaces, I’ve noticed building contractors usually vacate their spaces around 4 pm, teachers leave their designated school spots at 5pm, and vans at the farmer’s market in front of the American Museum of Natural History leave at 6pm on Sunday. You start noticing these things about the neighborhood when you’re cheap, unemployed, and looking for parking.
As I was waiting in my car continuing my Jane Jacobs urban analysis of the neighborhood, a gray pickup truck passed by and the driver inquired whether I’d like a quote to fix the dent on the back of my car.
“Sure” I replied, I had 90 minutes to waste.
He pulled off the side of the road and came by to explain his offer.
“I’m Jack.” He puts his fist out for a bump to initiate a handshake free covid salutation. “I’m in the neighborhood fixing cars for people who can’t bring their cars to the garage in the pandemic. I can give you a quote for the repair.”
“Where’s your garage?”
“28th street, but I can fix your car here.”
“Here?”
“Yes.” He started walking around the car and taking inventory of all the nicks and dents. After a survey of the damage he said, “I’ll charge you $200 cash. I can fix the dent on the back by pushing it from the inside.” In his hands he held an assortment of suction cups, mallets and wrenches.
“Cool.” For $200 I thought it was a steal. Bring the car to a garage, and they would probably charge $500 minimum. The car was already fucked up so I wasn’t too worried he would mess it up more.
As Jack was working on my car, the driver from the car behind mine approached me all curious about the in-situ repair. He looked and sounded like Larry David but was named Steve. It’s not everyday you have your car repaired on the street during alternate side parking.
After asking me about the repairs, Steve asked how long I lived in the area, I told him I’ve been here 25 years, and pointed to the building I lived in across the street. When he asked what I did for a living, I bluntly replied “tennis… actually I play tennis all the time because I lost my job in architecture. Our firm had 3 libraries and a poet’s café but then all our work was wiped out due to covid. Usually it’s embarrassing to reveal you’re unemployed... a sign of weakness that nobody finds you worth hiring. After looking for 4 months for a job without success, I’ve become quite good at tennis. I can rally for extended periods of time and position the ball anywhere on the court at will… so when Steve asked me what I do, I replied with my current strength: tennis.
Steve, unexpectedly revealed he too is also an avid tennis player and has played all summer on Fire Island. Interesting. He asked me to guess his age. He was spritely. I guessed 65. He said 77. He then said “I may look old, but I’m probably the best old person you’ll play at tennis. I play on clay because it’s easier on my joints, and I can’t run, but I’m good.”
“Cool.” I told him we could play in central park or riverside park one day and traded phone numbers.
When Jack finished working on my car, he started talking to Steve and recommending fixes to Steve’s Lexus. They circle around Steve’s car. For $100, he touches up the paint on Steve’s car. I continue talking to Steve while all this repair work is going on.
Steve excuses himself while he takes a call. It’s a woman out in staten island. Apparently he got involved with democrat Afgan war vet Max Rose’s election campaign, and he talks to fellow volunteers in public relations plotting to help regain democratic control of the house in NY state. I asked him what his profession was thinking he was in advertising. Steve replies “real estate developer… but I used to be a psychoanalyst.”
Thinking this conversation may now lead me to a job, I start asking him what kind of buildings he develops.
“Mixed use, retail and housing.” He responds. “We started buying property in the lower east side and flipping them.”
“Really? I worked on a building at Essex Crossing”
Steve says, “My office is a block away from Essex Crossing. What kind of work do you do?
“Schools, housing, university projects.”
“Do you file jobs with the department of buildings in the city?”
“Yes. I spent much of the past year dealing with city bureaucracy and filing building applications for my designs.” Filing with the city is tedious I think to myself, is this what my career has come to? Conversations about filing to drum up work from random alternate side parkers?
Jack was now finished with Steve’s car. I hand Jack $200. He pockets $100 from Steve. Overhearing our political conversation, Jack now rants, “Our country is too divided now. People today are too thin skinned. Kids are spoiled. Before we used to eat whatever you were given. We ate all sorts of offal, it’s what our family could afford. Nowadays kids have too many choices. One kid is eating pizza, another one eats a hamburger… kids used to play on the street. When I grew up as a Russian Jew in Coney Island, we had to get along with the blacks in the neighborhood. Kids went to the playgrounds to socialize, to learn how to navigate cultures and live with people of different backgrounds and cultures…”
When Jack leaves, Steve and I thank our good fortunes finding a skilled car repairman off the street. Minutes later into our conversation, a building superintendent came down the street and remarks, “isn’t that guy the worst? He’s like a Gypsy. He does bad work and make $200 here $100 there. He’s so rich he drives a Mercedes.”
Steve and I look at each other and think if we were fleeced. We then rationalize to ourselves if we had taken our cars to a proper auto mechanic’s garage the repairs would’ve cost well over the $300 we paid. In the end we were happy with Jack’s work.
What started as a mispositioned bike rack, led to an unsightly dent and then a repair that spurred a conversation of tennis, politics, and potential future architecture work.
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