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Breaking the law, breaking the law . . .
Parking here on Main Street sucks rocks through a bendy straw. The problem was this street was laid out in a time where families had one car, and the apartment buildings at the end of the block were single-family homes. The result is overflowing driveways and crowded street parking.
In our three-apartment building, we have a carport with three spaces and a generous patch of concrete for further parking. Since we're on good terms with our neighbors, we've agreed that Kirsten and I get two slots in the carport while the folks in apartments 1 and 3 get the remaining space and park in the slab in the back.
So we have a solution, but every single day we witness the war for street parking. It's really bad on Monday evenings, as everyone has taken out their trash and recycling bins for Tuesday pick-up. I honestly have no idea where the cars go then. Over the near-decade we've lived here we've had to deal with all sorts of creative parking solutions. The most common of these are the people who park and partially block the driveway.
Most of the time, I'll let it slide if the car is a few inches over the line. If it's far enough to make pulling in or out chancy, I'll call the police and ask for an officer to come take a look. My calls have led to several tickets being issued. But yesterday took the freaking cake.
I've been out the door by 0650 these past few weeks to get to the school I've been working. Yesterday, I come out to find a red Hyundai SUV blocking close to a third of the driveway. I was in a hurry and figured that whoever had parked it would be leaving soon anyway, so I had to roll over the curb as I left and headed out.
Two hours later, I return home and the care is still there. meaning Kirsten and our neighbors had to roll their non-trucks out the way I did. Thoroughly annoyed, I called the police non-emergency line and gave a detailed report. As an aside, when I did my dispatch sit-along for the Citizen Police Academy, the dispatcher called up my number and there were all my other complaints.
Twenty minutes pass before my phone buzzes. the Community Service Officer is outside. I got to speak to him, and it turns out to someone I know. He says the car is far enough over the line that it can be towed. Not knowing when or if the owner will return (it's not uncommon to see cars on our street that have been tagged as abandoned) I give the go-ahead.
Sadly, the Facebook crash kept me from sharing the moment on a Livestream.
Now it's 1230, and I'm about to head back over for the afternoon shift at the school. There's a knock on my door. It's a frantic young woman with a baby stroller asking if I know what happened to her car.
Uh-oh.
I tell her the truth. It was towed for blocking the driveway. Suddenly, her actions become my fault. I'm supposed to tell her where to park. I was supposed to find her (I've never seen her before in my life) and ask her to move. It's my fault she left her kid's medication in the car. I keep offering to give her the non-emergency number for the SCPD so she can find out where her car is, but all I get is a sob story about how she's on benefits and can't afford a ticket.
Lady, look at where I live. My side of the street ain't exactly Bel Air. We live in the same "challenged" neighborhood.
Next comes the race card. I had her towed because she's black. I had no clue who the car belonged to, and honestly, African-Americans are not a common sight on this street. We lean more towards Latino and South Asian populations. I tell her this, and my reward having my wife called a bitch and my the same.
Getting tickets and having your car towed sucks. I get this. But she was the one who made the decision to park where she did. She gets to own this.
But I am worried about how worked up she got and the fact that she was blaming me. I told Kirsten we need to get a Ring camera and floodlight installed ASAP.
As much as I love the Bay Area, I really wish we had the means to move to Reno.
In our three-apartment building, we have a carport with three spaces and a generous patch of concrete for further parking. Since we're on good terms with our neighbors, we've agreed that Kirsten and I get two slots in the carport while the folks in apartments 1 and 3 get the remaining space and park in the slab in the back.
So we have a solution, but every single day we witness the war for street parking. It's really bad on Monday evenings, as everyone has taken out their trash and recycling bins for Tuesday pick-up. I honestly have no idea where the cars go then. Over the near-decade we've lived here we've had to deal with all sorts of creative parking solutions. The most common of these are the people who park and partially block the driveway.
Most of the time, I'll let it slide if the car is a few inches over the line. If it's far enough to make pulling in or out chancy, I'll call the police and ask for an officer to come take a look. My calls have led to several tickets being issued. But yesterday took the freaking cake.
I've been out the door by 0650 these past few weeks to get to the school I've been working. Yesterday, I come out to find a red Hyundai SUV blocking close to a third of the driveway. I was in a hurry and figured that whoever had parked it would be leaving soon anyway, so I had to roll over the curb as I left and headed out.
Two hours later, I return home and the care is still there. meaning Kirsten and our neighbors had to roll their non-trucks out the way I did. Thoroughly annoyed, I called the police non-emergency line and gave a detailed report. As an aside, when I did my dispatch sit-along for the Citizen Police Academy, the dispatcher called up my number and there were all my other complaints.
Twenty minutes pass before my phone buzzes. the Community Service Officer is outside. I got to speak to him, and it turns out to someone I know. He says the car is far enough over the line that it can be towed. Not knowing when or if the owner will return (it's not uncommon to see cars on our street that have been tagged as abandoned) I give the go-ahead.
Sadly, the Facebook crash kept me from sharing the moment on a Livestream.
Now it's 1230, and I'm about to head back over for the afternoon shift at the school. There's a knock on my door. It's a frantic young woman with a baby stroller asking if I know what happened to her car.
Uh-oh.
I tell her the truth. It was towed for blocking the driveway. Suddenly, her actions become my fault. I'm supposed to tell her where to park. I was supposed to find her (I've never seen her before in my life) and ask her to move. It's my fault she left her kid's medication in the car. I keep offering to give her the non-emergency number for the SCPD so she can find out where her car is, but all I get is a sob story about how she's on benefits and can't afford a ticket.
Lady, look at where I live. My side of the street ain't exactly Bel Air. We live in the same "challenged" neighborhood.
Next comes the race card. I had her towed because she's black. I had no clue who the car belonged to, and honestly, African-Americans are not a common sight on this street. We lean more towards Latino and South Asian populations. I tell her this, and my reward having my wife called a bitch and my the same.
Getting tickets and having your car towed sucks. I get this. But she was the one who made the decision to park where she did. She gets to own this.
But I am worried about how worked up she got and the fact that she was blaming me. I told Kirsten we need to get a Ring camera and floodlight installed ASAP.
As much as I love the Bay Area, I really wish we had the means to move to Reno.