Car Talk

It is a truth universally acknowledged, at least by me, that as soon as I have a comfortable monetary cushion on the right side of solvency, my car will inevitably develop a need for that very amount.  When I went downtown to pick up my Indian visa yesterday, I managed to park in a tow away zone and came back to find my car gone and 3 tow trucks hauling other unlucky cars off to the city impound lot.

I was at 6^th and Mission, and a diverse little spot it is—pawn shops, one advertising “gold teeth”—hope they’re buying not selling; porn shops, massage parlor, the Sharma Vi grocery store and the FuWar Chinese restaurant.  The Indian visa office is plunked right in the middle of all this, and has the same kind of iron gates to protect its glass at night as the other businesses on the street. 
 

The impound lot is at 7^th and Bryant, so I could walk to it. Although it was further downtown than I remembered and it was getting darker the closer I got to the very heart of darkness:  the Hall of Justice on Bryant, home of the southern police station and the criminal courts—by its very nature a criminal magnet.  Luckily the lot was between Harrison and Bryant so I stopped short of the HOJ.

There were several people in the waiting room so I thought I’d have to sit around for awhile but my number was called immediately.  I later realized the other people were waiting for someone to come down and give them some money to get their cars out of the lot.  I paid the enormous fee--$450-- to get my car back, and then walked through the darkening parking lot under the freeway. They assigned me a guide to the underworld to help me find my car. 

It felt like a scene from Blade Runner, with blinding bright lights at the entrance and gloom toward the back of the lot, and giant tow trucks rattling in the gate every 30 seconds with another vehicle.  My guide, his face hidden in the depths of his hoodie, informed me that he had escaped the city and moved to the east bay where seldom was heard a discouraging word from the parking forces that be. He hasn’t had a ticket since he moved there. 

I haven’t gotten a tow away ticket in 30 years myself. And, as the young cashier said, at least I could pay the money on the spot, and didn’t have to wait for someone to come and lend me cash.  Realistically, it just means that my credit card payment will be the minimum amount this month.  So, technically, I remain solvent.

 

Always look on the bri-i-ight si-i-de of life….