2013年7月30日 星期二

Much ado about parking lots

It’s one of Long Island’s most defining features, a testament to a culture dominated by cars and convenience.  It separates the urban from the suburban and renders the phrase “parallel parking” obsolete.  Most of us can’t get a loaf of bread without visiting one.

I’m referring, of course, to the humble parking lot light , that shining sea of asphalt that coats an impressive percentage of our region in a coal-dark sheen flecked with painted lines.

Parking lots surround our supermarkets,

our big box stores and our malls. They flank our schools, libraries and firehouses. They often connect to one another, creating not-so-secret shortcuts behind long strips of shops. They provide a form of vehicular daycare for weary commuters looking to take a train into the city.

There’s a complex hierarchy to most lots, with special spaces catered to specific populations, whether they be “village residents,” “parents with small children,” “employee of the month” or folks picking up “Outback curbside take-away.” In downtown and municipal parking areas, one must scrutinize all available signage to avoid being ticketed, and each of us knows someone who has fallen victim to the one-line difference between “12-hour public parking” and “parking by permit only.”

Most Long Islanders have a love-hate relationship with parking lots. In Suffolk County, where larger property sizes are commonplace, many homeowners have demonstrated their adoration by creating their very own mini-parking lots: asphalt driveways. Their pride is evident in loving, ritual resealings; in the summertime, the air is often thick with the aroma of freshly spread tar, with yellow tape cordoning off the entrances of newly recoated driveways. VelveTop has built a local paving empire as a manufacturer and distributor of pavement sealer, helping to keep the Island’s countless driveways and parking lots that coveted shade of charcoal.

In my own driving lifetime, my relationship with parking lots has gone through several iterations. When I was a newly licensed teen, parking lots provided a welcomed hangout spot for me and my equally bored friends. We would drive to a local Starbucks or 7-Eleven before settling into a random parking space nearby. With Frappuccinos or Slurpees in hand, we would talk for hours about everything and nothing, free from the eavesdropping of others. Judging by the groups of teenagers I often see gathering in these same lots, the tradition hasn’t changed much.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to view parking lots as more of a threat than a retreat. Living in the home of New York’s most dangerous roads for pedestrians and drivers alike, we’re all accustomed to difficult driving conditions. Accident delays are commonplace, as are aggressive drivers. But parking lots often present an even greater test: cars entering and exiting, backing up and pulling in, dodging pedestrians, shopping carts and double-parked vehicles, all jockeying for that highly sought-after closest possible spot. And as our cars and trucks have gotten larger, visibility has become all the more challenging, prompting the need for rear-view cameras and almost acrobatic blind spot-checking routines. In the midst of all of these obstacles, tensions can run high.

In many of our county government facilities, from the H. Lee Dennison Building in Hauppauge to the court complex in Central Islip, solar panel arrays provide covered parking while simultaneously generating electricity. The first of Long Island’s alternative vehicle fueling stations are starting to pop up. Advances in LED lighting design may soon lead us to energy-efficient fixtures that illuminate parking facilities while reducing light pollution in our communities.  The installation of porous pavement can help manage stormwater runoff and protect the quality of our groundwater.

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