One Hell Of A Ride
Like most people who work downtown, I park in one of the city’s fine parking ramps. And while the logistics of actually building a parking ramp often cross my mind, I came across another puzzling question while parking one day.
In the midst of the rat race, I feverishly tried backing into my selected spot. And in true Jillian fashion, boom, I hit something. I couldn’t tell what I hit at first; I didn’t see anything in any of my mirrors or windows. Then I stepped out of my vehicle – on floor five. You can imagine my surprise when I see a bike rack wedged under my bumper. A bike rack? Yep, a bike rack. On the fifth floor.
Does anyone else find this a little strange? I mean, don’t get me wrong – I’m not a cyclist or in great shape, but I know if I was going to ride my bike to work, I sure as hell would not bike up five floors – with vehicles coming in both directions, mind you – just to “park” my bike.
And what biker is going to look for a rack on the fifth floor?
Something’s not right there.