Sunday drivers take their cars to the mall, literally
Shopping centre management allows vehicles to drive throughout the halls in the early morning hours before opening
There’s a mall in the north part of my town that’s fallen so far out of favour most people have forgotten it’s there. With the main entrance located behind a sprawling factory that makes paper cups and flanked by another that assembles folding bridge tables, it’s no wonder this shopping centre boasts few casual visitors.
You know that a shopping mall is short on customers when it opens at dawn to allow power walkers to use the premises as an indoor track. You know the trouble is worse when even the walkers have abandoned the place.
Who could blame mall management for allowing cars to drive through the centre early on Sunday mornings? Mall signage prohibits cigarettes, skateboards, pets and customers without shirts, but an exception has been made for cars. It’s not as though cars revving their engines inside will attract casual customers. It may simply be wish fulfilment on the part of the mall owner, who sometimes drives along with us.
Of course, automobiles have been driven inside the mall before. Somebody has to drive them inside during special promotions by local dealers to celebrate the new model year. We simply take it one step further.
It’s still dark as I approach the mall one cold Sunday morning. Sunrise outlines the flagship mall sign, its perimeter fringed by darkened neon lollipops that flash in sequence late at night.
They won’t allow just any car into the mall. You have to be part of the Sunday Drivers Mall Club. Your car needs to pass an inspection. No leaks — fuel, transmission, power steering or oil. Tires, clean. No icicles.
We enter through the delivery entrance and park over a service grate, then spray the salt off our cars and towel them dry. After that, we simply follow the rules of the road. Traffic stays to the right, the speed limit is 40 kilometres an hour and there’s an assumed four- way stop where hallways meet. No driving up or down stairs and one at a time in the service elevator.
The roadway is quality terrazzo flooring made of a thick slurry of cement and aggregate, ground down and polished to perfection. It not only provides a smooth ride, but the surface seems to have an affinity for the car’s rubber tires, providing excellent traction and braking.
I drive carefully, leaving a decent clearance from the storefronts, the road “shoulders” marked out in a darker shade of aggregate. I sometimes take note of a special sale or a new product line. I like to drive by stores that display a sense of corporate history. Nothing better conveys trust than large stainless steel letters stamped out in Futura, lit softly from behind.
We use the central fountain as a sort of roundabout, circling slowly around jets of water that light up at random as they shoot into the air. I often try to toss a coin into the pool as I drive by. Those coins are later collected for charity.
Today, I turn a corner and suddenly slam on the brakes. Some fool has parked right in the middle of the road! I chide myself when I realize that this van is the first prize in a Knights of Columbus charity raffle. I should have read the mall newsletter more carefully.
My favourite part of the drive is the food court, which requires more expert manoeuvring. We like to practise driving around the fixed seating and trash receptacles, rally style. Can I pluck a napkin from the dispenser on that table without incident as I drive by? Why, I believe I can!
Someone forgot to tell the last Red Barn restaurant in the country that its parent company closed its doors decades ago, but, here, puppet mascot Happy Hungry still extols the virtues of Digni- fried Chicken — probably on borrowed time.
Today, I don’t feel much like driving the second floor — taking the elevator cuts into my driving time. At precisely 6: 55 a. m., a chime sounds, informing club members that it’s time to exit the mall. We simply leave as we came, through the delivery entrance, and go our separate ways. The car immediately begins to collect road salt and I need to switch on the wipers to clear slush from the windshield.
At times, driving outdoors feels so uncivilized.