After holding up traffic for an appropriate time, she will turn into a church parking lot, sometimes taking up two parking spaces, since she’ll park cockeyed, with the car tires hanging over the yellow line. The motor quits, the car drifts a bit as the parking brake slams on, and she flings the door open. A gentle push—she’s not strong anymore—but still it’s a kind of get-out-of-my-way shove. She then throws her purse, sweater, shopping bag, and cheap plastic sun visor out of the car, onto the pavement where it rolls around a little. She places her walking cane out the door, grabs the handle
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