If there's anything predictable about motoring, it's that everything is predictable. Think of what you might be absolutely convinced is the most original idea ever, and the chances are that if you go far enough back in automotive history you'll find it, or something very like it.
Take parking. Long before it was really an issue, Brainiacs types were coming up with genius solutions. Here's one from the late 1920s. If anyone can explain how this French madness works, Dan will send you a special prize of half his luncheon sandwich, which today is made from white bread, diet margarine, spam and lettuce. If you manage to build a working specimen, he'll send you the whole butty.
Why park yourself when there's a machine?
Good luck with it though, because there aren't that many modern cars you could base it on. For a start, it would have to be rear-wheel drive. Up front, you'd need full turning-wheel clearance. A Caterham, maybe? Your engineering efforts might compromise the Seven's handling purity somewhat, but surely this is worth it in exchange for the convenience of nabbing that impossible space.
Something a little simpler here, in the form of a homebrewed parallel-parking device that sort of follows the 90-degree wheel principle, but instead of complicating the steering mechanism, it's a rather more straightforward rear-end affair. Popular in Egypt apparently. Once again though, nothing new: here's an American version from the '50s.
You may prefer to leave the drudgery of parking to someone else. Or something else. Parking machines are a common sight in Japan nowadays, but they were around in the States nearly a hundred years ago, as this vid from 1932 Chicago shows. The idea of this 'paternoster' style structure attached to the side of an existing building (assuming you could find one with the external space for such a thing) was to minimise the car park's footprint. On that score at least this design works admirably. Woe betide anyone living within about half a mile of it, though: the clanking and snorting from this infernal machine must have been horrendous. And of course should the mechanism ever break down, which you'd guess it must have done on a fairly regular basis, that's you missing your appointment.
Back in the 1970s Leicester University had passenger versions of this paternoster system in some of its buildings. They consisted of an open-sided constantly-moving vertical belt of compartments. It moved pretty smartly too so you had to time your leap quite precisely to jump into the next hole. Not for the nervous or faint-hearted, or indeed for those on the other side of the bravery coin, i.e. drunken undergrads. You'd never get it past the health and safety now.