Tom rode his motorcycle to the gate. He got off the bike, opened the gate, rode in, shut the gate, then proceeded into the garage.
He had asked Verna to park her car dead centre so that he could drive around it, as it was easier for him to get in and out then having to manually reverse the bike.
Of course, Verna didn’t.
This meant he had to get off the bike, manually pull it backwards into the garage, going to the wall.
When he was thirty it wasn’t as much work as now, when he was sixty five. However, he would say nothing, as he had since the first he’d requested, ten years ago.