Just a few days before Christmas 1996, we had a lot of snow.  At the time I was living at 32-Fiddy in Uptown with Sevda, and Meghan and Jerry were my neighbors.  I was working at a furniture store, my first job out of college (really putting my education to use) and I'd had to work late.  On the way home, all I could think about was where I was going to park.  I had lived in Minneapolis for four years, so I was well aware of the parking chaos that ensued whenever there was a decent snowfall.  The declaration of a Snow Emergency almost guarantees that somebody is going to have to make a run to the Impound Lot to pick up a car that was left parked on the wrong side of the street.  I could never remember when was the safe time to move my car from one side of the street to the other, and the streets always filled up so quickly with only half of the normal parking spaces available.

Sevda and I did have a garage space at the apartment, but we rarely used it.  It felt like such a hassle getting in and out of the garage.  But, that night, weighing the options of which hassle was greater, I decided to park my car in the garage.  As I pulled onto our street, I noted that the snow plow had already been through our block.  There was a big mound of snow lining the entry to the alley that lead to our garage.  I turned into the alley and gunned it, hoping that I could break through the little mountain and slide on into the alley.  I slid in the heavy, wet snow and stopped.  Stuck where the street met the alley with the back half of my car still in the street. 

Knowing that the box of wine was probably already flowing in our apartments, I put my car in neutral, pulled the emergency brake and threw on the hazards.  I ran into the building and begged Meghan and Jerry to put on their boots and help push me out of the snowbank.  We went back to the car, I got in the drivers seat and they placed their hands on the trunk of the car.  On three, I started to rock the car back and forth and they pushed.  The tires spun in place, kicking slush back at Meghan and Jerry.  Jerry suggested that I back the car up into the street and try gunning it again to see if I could break through.  It didn't work.  I was totally stuck with the Franzia getting older by the minute.

Just then, a man wearing a fur-lined parka and sturdy Sorels walked up the sidewalk and stopped at my car.  "Need some help?" he said.  He gave us some suggestions, mostly repeating our earlier attempts.  Still, nothing.  "Care if I try?" he asked.  I got out of the car and he sat down in the drivers seat.  "I'm going to take it around the block and get a really good run at it."

"Sure," I said.  And he drove away.  As he rounded the corner, I turned to face Meghan and Jerry, realizing what I'd done.  "Do you think he'll come back?" I said.

"Who knows," Jerry said, shaking his head and covering his face.

"I hope so.  I just gave him my car.  And my purse is in the back seat."  It was a very long few minutes as we stood in the street, the snow continuing to fall.  Then, from around the corner, I saw my car coming down the street.  The man in the parka still behind the wheel was driving toward the alley.  He hit the gas, rounded the corner, and broke through the snowbank.  He got out from behind the wheel and I shook his hand.  And thanked him for not stealing my car.