A plethora of peeves about L.A. parking

A giant heap of mail from Essential Californians suggests that not even our noxious politics or stubborn inflation set readers into a dither quite like the consternation you suffer when you're ready to get out of your cars.

- BY JAMES RAINEY

MYUNG J. CHUN Los Angeles Times A JOGGER runs past a mix of parking restriction signs in Brentwood.

Because you have to park. And you can’t find parking. Or find it far too expensive. Or you got bamboozled by four competing street parking signs. Or you couldn't leave your space because that dunderhead in the Tesla decided to park within a hair’s breadth of your rear bumper.

Grrrrrr. Today's Essential California plumbs the vast shallows of your peeves about parking. And doubtless invites more complaints. Which we can dive into another day, if need be.

The thing about parking in California is that, by definition, we're all doing it while running 15 minutes late, after getting caught up in a SigAlert or an inexplicable Caltrans rush-hour lane beautification. We come to the hunt for an open space already frazzled.

The five worst parking offenses