Lingering Winter: As temperatures flirt with triple digits, when does the right to shoveled parking spaces end?

Above: An August 1, 2010, photo of a city resident using patio chairs to save a parking space that was shoveled out during last winter's deluge of snow.

Philadelphia, PA--It is August in South of South, a neighborhood in southwest Center City, and traffic on the local streets is light as many have made their way to barbecues on sidewalks, front steps, back decks, brick patios, or brick decks (a craze in the late 1890s).

The few cars, however, that can be found on the roadways are circling the tight blocks. The occupants may be running late for one of the gatherings that are producing the many familiar smells of summer: grilled hot dogs, hamburgers, steak, freshly made m&m's, or soy chicken patties. Some of these motorists may even be carrying the final ingredient to a dish, partygoers waiting patiently, or, even more importantly, may be transporting the main dish itself.

The cars continue to circle, like vultures waiting to dive, in search of a parking spot to rest the moving metal mass propelled by the combustion engine. On one block are three empty spaces, well, sort of, but not really. Parked in these spots are six kitchen and patio chairs--two in each space. The chairs are a claim to the roughly 8 ft by 15 ft asphalt rectangle, like Sooners storming the Oklahoma countryside, or a flag on an Iwo Jima hilltop.

Why are the chairs here and how, being left unattended, have they withstood the temptations of many Philadelphians to move them or smash them into unrecognizable pieces? Philadelphia, along with many Northeast and Mid-Atlantic cities, experienced one of the harshest winters ever last season, as record-obliterating snow totals crippled the region.

Kevin Graham, 52, a lawyer in University City, owns one set of these chairs. He claims that the extreme winter last year gives him the right to this spot for at least a year. The chairs are his marking, his Nike swoosh.

"How quickly everyone forgets about all those blizzards we had last winter," Graham said with a slightly raised voice, adding that he was born and raised in the city. "In February, I was in the hospital for a week with back spasms after carving out a space for my Honda Civic from all that snow. I drive daily to work and so this spot is mine until December 2010. It's as simple as that."

One set of parking-spot-saving chairs includes a rubber band-fastened note (pictured above) explaining the reasoning behind the placement: "I shoveled this spot last winter." The short, simple sentence is supposed to make those who pass, in automobiles seeking a place to rest, say, "Oh, that person worked hard seven months ago, so he or she deserves this sacred pasture."

The chair's partner features taped and laminated pictures from the winter wonderland that was December, January and February of '09-'10 (pictured below), to better reinforce--and prove--this point.

Graham's and his like minded neighbors' reasoning is not understood by most on the block. The three spot-saving families have been castigated by the community.

"I busted my butt too last February, just look at these blisters," shouted fellow block neighbor Marsha Vanderslice, turning her calloused, raw palms skyward. "You don't see me saving a space on the street. The only time I ever LEGALLY held one was when I moved here ... 12 years ago. The limit is one week after a snow storm. ONE WEEK!"

"I called the city," said Ben Stevenson, another neighbor. "Guess what they said? They said that he's got every right to claim that spot as long as he can prove that he shoveled it out. When I asked if they knew it was August, they transferred me to the fix-a-pothole helpline."