There is no Magic in Numbers
It's a sunny day in July. You have the afternoon free and it's warm and just right to head for the beach. You gather everything, towel, sunscreen, bathing suit (a bikini on me would scare off half the beach), that relaxing book you want to reread, get in the car and set its prow to the beach you've been going to for the last ten years because of its shady spots. As you drive down the curving lane that ends at a little spot of paradise, you start to notice cars parked along the ditches. You turn the last curve, and see wall-to-wall cars in every empty spot available, even under the pine trees. Your heart sinks. It's no longer a question of parking in a shady spot, it's a question of parking within half a kilometer. But you finally finagle a spot that would make an acrobat proud to park in and be able to open the door enough to wiggle out. You take your bag and go to find a shady spot. There isn't any. They've all been taken. There's almost no spot even in...