But out of the blue, I realized I should stop my whining.
I grew up in a small home in North Dayton and it also had a one-car garage, the one shown below. For as far back as I can remember, our family had two cars. My Mom drove a big yellow Chevy station wagon and my Dad had a Corvair and then an Impala. The station wagon was always parked in the garage and the Corvair/Impala was either in the driveway or on the street.
Not once did I ever hear my Dad whine about it. As far as I know, he never had his car in the garage, at least until after Mom passed away. Thirty years without a word. A real man.
Time to put on my big boy pants and shut my mouth.