I’ll never forget the lady in the green 1952 Chevrolet. It was a very hot morning in June of 1960. I had just started my new summer job as an attendant at Car Park lot No. 11 at Lindsay and 10th streets near the telephone company.
That first morning Roy, the supervisor, came over to show me how to run the lot. I hadn’t told Car Park’s owner John Riddle when he hired me that I had never driven a stick shift. By 8 a.m. there was a long line of cars waiting to get in. The temperature was in the 90s and rising.
Roy and I parked the cars, and I tried to avoid the ones with manual transmissions. Finally the lady in the l952 Chevy pulled in. Roy smirked, said, “There you go, cowboy,” and walked away. I had no choice but to park the car. As I popped the clutch and left a streak of rubber, I could see the look of dismay on the lady’s face. From then on, I was all alone. By the end of the day, I knew how to park cars, stick shifts and all.
I worked at Car Park for the summers of 1960-’64. In those days, an attendant was supposed to park every car at the various locations, but Lot No. 11 was unique. It was partially full before being officially opened in the morning. Telephone operators with monthly passes had already parked in the row facing Lindsay Street. At 4 p.m., operators would pull over to the curb, and the attendant would have to move cars from the row behind to fill the now-vacated spaces.
In addition, we had to move other cars around to create aisles so that people leaving at 5 p.m. could depart without assistance. In Car Park parlance, this was known as “breaking down the lot,” and it took place rain or shine.