Editor:

A minor mistake in a shared garage ended with an $800 bill.

I recently scratched my neighbor’s side mirror while moving her car in our garage, where we have to park one behind the other in a long, narrow space. It was a small scuff—something I thought might be let go. Instead, she asked us to pay nearly $800 to repair it. I’m a student and a renter; she is far more financially comfortable. We paid it, of course. But what stayed with me was how little room there was for grace.

I say this as someone who currently has the privilege of a garage. When cars inch slightly past the red curb outside, it doesn’t actually prevent me from getting in or out. I’ve tested it. If anything, it makes me more aware of how constrained parking is in this city—and more surprised by how intensely people react to small encroachments.

In the Richmond, I’ve seen neighbors nail up aggressive towing warnings and treat inches of curb like private property. Red zones stretch beyond what SFMTA allows. I’ve heard stories from Lake Street of a man who sits outside his garage—where he doesn’t even park a car—monitoring the curb and confronting anyone who gets too close. He reportedly painted the red curb longer himself. It starts to feel less like practicality and more like territorial performance.

Of course people need access to their garages. But this level of vigilance feels out of proportion to the harm. We’re talking about inches of space and minor, inevitable mistakes—not real threats.

San Francisco is a city of enormous wealth and visible inequality. We are living through a moment of global conflict and local strain, where empathy feels both more necessary and more scarce. And yet, in our day-to-day lives, we seem increasingly unwilling to extend even small amounts of grace to the people right next to us.

If we can’t practice patience over something as minor as a parking inconvenience, it’s worth asking what that says about our capacity for empathy more broadly—and what kind of city we want to be.

Mathilda Silverstein